Mates: A werewolf’s tale

by Rock Creek Werewolf   

The Mountain Peaks Pack receives a valentine. Bill is unsettled. Tom is bulking. Larry is eager to prove himself. And newly minted Alpha Ruiz is eager to scent his seer. Nando and Bill chance upon a tasty treat, and Paul focuses in.

Greetings, Gents. We’re back for another novella with the Mountain Peaks Pack. (IG: @Mountain_Peaks_Pack, in development). The pack settles in a new territory, but they’re one wolf down, and several candidate mondjugen (knowingly or unknowingly) present themselves. And new threats to the pack emerge. I’m really looking forward to writing this one out (I’ve got it outlined, and there’s adventure, mystery, and some steaming, page-melting sex, which I hope will be some of the best erotic horror you’ve encountered—truly, I’m excited to get going on this one). I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Stay tuned. I have an exciting announcement for this group coming in March. Onwards, gents!

Cast of Characters:

Alpha (Carlos) Ruiz, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, likes a tightly run pack, wants to dominate but not destroy, eager to prove himself as he and his wolves make their new home in Deer Park, headquarted at Mountain Peaks Gym.

• Larry Samuels, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, second in command, clever brunette gentlemen, distrustful of humans, mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Tom, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, black hair, stoic muscle daddy and gentle giant, with estranged children from before his wolfhood, mated to Larry, from Wisconsin

• Yousef Saad, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, Lebanese personal trainer, viral fitness social media start, and proud owner of Mountain Peaks Gym, coming into his own, owner of a German Shepherd named Frank, devout Muslim with a spanking kink

• Bill, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, hairy ball of muscle, sweet and playful, but a survivor, eager bottom with sleeve tattoos, general manager at Mountain Peaks Gym, and newly sworn in a warlock.

• Nando of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, Colombian and coco-skinned, tough and guarded after some tough prior packs, athletic and horny with a fetish for feet.

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

Frank, Yousef’s familiar German Shepherd and, formerly, his human lawyer and friend

Nicolás Raymundo, ‘Father Ray,’ a mondjugen in recovery (AA), a Catholic priest at St. Michael the Archangel’s, across the park from Mountain Peaks Gym

Mahmood (Mo) Saad, Yousef’s father, muscular and fit for his late fifties, a Lebanese immigrant and Los Angelino mondjugen concerned for his absent son

Paul, new U.S. Park Ranger at the national park to the south of the park’s territory, enthusiastic for all things wild, amateur wildlife photographer, gay and into yoga, with a crush on Alpha Ruiz

Liz Whitmer, neé Samuels, sister to Larry, and a witch in her own right. Gives her baby brother a hard time.

Alpha Toddson, leader of the South Territory, noble and clever, ruthless and sly, a silver daddy and uneasy frenemy of Alpha Ruiz

• Mullins, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, second in command, former Police Chief, newly divorced after his wolfhood, moustached, dedicated to duty and to making this new life work.

Reaching his tatted muscles up extra high, Bill hung the last of the Valentines’ decorations around Mountain Peaks Gym’s front desk.

The gym smelled of scotch tape, human sweat, and he cardboard boxes for the decorations. They had not cost much; he’d gotten a good deal at the close out sale at Party City up on the state route. The flowers and garlands were plastic or fabric, so they could be used in years subsequent as well. Mountain Peaks was reaching their monthly income goals, but it was prudent to stay frugal still in the first year.

“Not bad,” the ball-of-muscle wolf mused, stepping down from the stool complaining under his weight, and taking a look at the full effect. Bill smiled. A nice way to begin February.

The new gym had been open three months now. Yousef and he were working well together, and meeting their membership sign-up goals. That and the enduring popularity of Yousef’s personal trainer social media accounts meant they were sitting pretty.

Bill was surprised at how much he was enjoying himself. Managing the gym was the first thing since wolfhood that truly excited him. There was a brochure for the B.B.A. program at the state university, sitting in his binder. It was too late for the spring semester, but Bill was eyeing the autumn.

Fall foliage and lecture halls fell away from the wolf’s mind as the smell of dog entered his nostrils. Bill didn’t react until he felt a cold nose against his left calf. The wolf smiled and reached down, feeling about a bit until he could find the back of Frank’s head. The dog urged forward more, panting softly, and Bill was able to give him a good deep scratching. The German Shepherd loved that.

“You like ‘em?” Bill squatted down, face to face with the dog. Frank gave a grunt and started licking at his friend’s face. The wolf grinned back, and even gave a few playful licks himself back. “You like em, Frankie?” he used a more playful voice, indicating up at the hearts and garlands above the front desk, and along the membership sign-up desk. “You like, boy?”

Frank panted more excitedly in response to the wolf’s tone, his eyes following Bills prompting, nails clicking on the linoleum tile, but gave no special recognition.

Bill sighed. The man was in there. Somewhere. Not even three months ago, Frank had been a capable human attorney, gym member, and friend. His current state was… regrettable. Yousef had gotten him house broken easy enough, and had trained the dog with the basic commands: sit, stay, call, shake, heel, and so on. The dog was also acclimated to being in the gym setting with a hundred unfamiliar humans, and was a fan favorite on their Instagram feed (#FlexWithFrankie). But it just was not the same.

Bill felt rotten about it. He truly did. He was the warlock that had cast the spell, after all (albeit for a very good cause, and with two witches’ help). But a remedy that didn’t undo the entire thing (including addressing that nosey and threatening FBI agent who’d also been turned pooch) was proving elusive.

“We’ll get ya back, boy,” he whispered directly into the dog’s large ear. Frank looked about. Then he gave a bark. And then three more, each one louder.

Bill turned his head and gave a sniff.

Yeah, the mailman. Frank kept barking.

It was a cliché, sure, but Frank just couldn’t stand her. There had been scenes. Bill had just enough time to shuffle Frank into Yousef’s office, and the step ladder into the side closet before the postal carrier came in.

“Hey Judes,” Bill nodded at her. “Anything good?”

“Something Valentines,” the rosy-cheeked woman, wrapped up in a scarf and hat, indicated at a red envelope amidst the cards. The carrier looked at the card. “Always nice to get something amidst the bills and crap. I love this time of year. Hi Frank!” she shouted at the office door, which what shuddering behind the giant dog pawing behind it. She gave Bill a thankful look, indicating at the door what held in the beast of Mountain Peaks, and plopped the mail down onto the front counter. “Good boy, Frank!” she shouted. “My biggest fan,” she said, rolling her eyes at the barking from behind the office door.

Bill nodded sheepishly and thanked her as the carrier headed back out. Humming something or another, the wolf sorted through the envelopes. And gasped.

He’d almost dropped the red envelope. The valentine was addressed “Mountain Peaks Pack” instead of the anodyne “Mountain Peaks Gym.” The return address carried the embossed royal seal of Teodoro. The Wolf King.

Now, that was all well and good amongst wolves, but in the U.S. Mail?

Bill bit his lip. The Wolf King was known to be bold, unpredictable, impetuous. You had to be, if you hoped to rule over all wolves, everywhere, and survive.

But you also had to be careful. This was Bill’s third king. They tended not to last very long. Pack turmoil bubbled into violence easily, and unlike vampires or ghosts, wolves did not have the benefit of centuries to wait out their adversaries. And the threat of human detection was ever-present.

Bill paused a second, but then sighed. It was Kind Teodoro’s hide at risk and not his. So… Hurray! a valentine from the Wolf King!

He snapped his finger. The envelope popped open with the sound of a gasp. Bill grinned with satisfaction. He had that trick down pat now. The warlock had been practicing.

Bill pulled the card out. “My dear wolves,” the valentine read. “Had an amazing time this past Christmas. I savored your scents and holes. How lucky I am to own each and every one of you.”

Well, la dee dah, Bill rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be back again soon to claim what is mine.”

Back again… Bill learned on the front desk, starring at the hand-written note. Claiming what was his... Now that was less than helpful.

Yes, the time would come sometime soon to pay the piper, Bill sighed, but it sure wasn’t his problem to figure out that price. The wolf pulled out his Smartphone, snapped a pic of the inscription, and WhatsApp’ed it to Alpha Ruiz. Good deed done.

But in the interim, it was a compliment to receive the well-wishing of the Wolf King. That night… Bill whistled, smiling.

The Solstice moon rose high and strong that night. The forest smelled of wolf—wolf—wolf. Completely. The wolf—the wolf—giant, stinking, powerful, heaving, held court, grunting and spraying his musk and urine across the ground. The thick vapor spewed from his jaws as it met the cold air. The ground almost literally trembled as he tread. All were assembled around him. This would be fun.

The beast had bred several wolves already. The ground was coated with flicks of spit and of anal leaking’s, tufts of fur and even flecks of blood. The Wolf was not hesitant in his rutting.

More, the Wolf grunted. More. Next.

A wolf was shoved forward. Ah, yes. The strange one. The small one. The one who consorted with the witches.

Fuck him, Fuck him, another wolf grunted from the side. Core him out.

Yes, he must, the Wolf nodded. Right away. Yes. Right away. Not half a second must pass.

The smaller wolf grunted underneath him. He took the thick, turgid entry like a champ, but the grunts were labored, and his pelvis quivered all the same.

All howled. In two circles, one larger, one smaller around the two rutting beasts, the wolves paced and paced. It felt so good to pace. Smelling one another as they passed, one past another—part carousel, part meat-market. Getting all the good information. What this one ate, who that one fucked, who this one was jousting with, who that one had just been scented by. It was all so so good, a soup of smell. Praise Luna! Howling Hell!! And all with the wolf—The Wolf—here to bless them, rut them, scent them deep. It was a beautiful thing.

The small wolf, the strange one, gave a grunt. He struggled to stay up on all fours, but he did stay up. He joined the wolf—The Wolf—in a bellow as he received a load, deep—so deep—so infinitely deep, it seeded his wolf soul.

Claimed, the larger wolf—The Wolf—disengaged. Only then did the smaller wolf collapse to the floor, two others darting forward to lick at his leaking anus and the amazing slick that was emerging.

As the night progressed to the witching hour, and Luna arched across the heavens, two wolves in particular gained attention. A new Alpha, brand-spanking new, had transformed into a wolf, normal enough, but was now growing to a true Alpha’s size. Bones creaked and muscles groaned. By the end of it, he now rose a full shoulder above the rest, almost to match the largest wolf—The Wolf. The Alpha’s breaths were now almost bellows, his grunts octaves deeper. And his scent became… more. So much more. All the wolves now wanted to be scented by him. To stink like him. And to run with him.

But the second… what was this? All the wolves surrounded the next wolf. The faithful one, the one who bowed and murmured to one besides Luna. His scent was… strange. What was this? So interesting. Not bad, not good. Just different.

Protect this one, the wolf—The Wolf—grunted, stalking around him, forming a circle of his own.

Protect him? Yes. Yes! A wolf protects his brothers. Yes! Wolves grunted and bobbed in agreement.

No, protect this one, the wolf—The Wolf—barked. He will be useful. So useful.

So useful, the wolves agreed. All turned their pacing to surround this wolf with the strange smell. Strange bobs and bows to unknown spirits. But also, strange visions beyond this moon. So useful. Yes.

The wolf in the center groaned as streams of urine covered him. He was scented a hundred times over, a dense bouquet. And now to the scenting’s. The wolf squatted a bit to accommodate the first entrance. For he was to be scented. Yes, scented. Again and again. Leaving no doubt to any that this was protected by the pack—the packs. That wolf was important to them. That this wolf was hands off.

Useful, the wolves all chanted in their barks and yips, as the strange wolf was mounted a third time by the wolf—The Wolf. The wolf below him moaned in pleasure and in submission. So useful. In time, so useful indeed.

Luna zoomed through the infinite black above them, her light bone white.

Alpha Ruiz and his second ran together, shoulder to shoulder. The early February air was crisp, and the dusting of snow they’d received last night was just enough to give the woods a supernatural light. The scene smelled of rotting woods, frosted foliage, and the stale scent of the pack’s prior patrols. The two trotted a fast clip, ears high, taking in everything in their domain. The forest here had a lot of old-growth trees, so the gaps in between were generous. Generous enough for a powerful well-fed wolf like Larry, and his even bigger Alpha.

Alpha Ruiz was a sight to see. In wolf form, almost as large as a black bear now. He’d have put the former Alpha Pete to shame, and even Alpha Toddson would need to be wary.

Especially impressive was his speed. The Alpha’s bulk miraculously did not slow him down, and his endurance… well… endured. He even put Larry, a veritable sprinter, through his paces.

But these rounds were not a race. They had work to do.

“Here,” Larry bounded to the top of a ridge. He marked the three trees at the zenith with his urine. “And all along this line,” he pointed with his snout down the line of trees. “It’s mostly clay.” The type of soil was greedy; the scent would linger longer.

“Good job,” Alpha Ruiz nodded. He squatted and left some scat to compliment the urine. He snuffled into the underbrush. No other wolf scent. Good.

They’d been running double rounds, checking and scenting the borders with vigilant frequency since before the Solstice. The past nine months had been troubled ones. First the Haig incident (culminating in the national park becoming a prison of eternal mindless wolfhood for any pack member who dated enter) and then encounter with the predatory FBI Agent (along with the jousting with Alpha Toddson. The pack had moved north to occupy Haig’s old territory, albeit with great sacrifice. Even now, the claim was tenuous. The new territories had been established in a scramble: Alpha Dreyfuss to the west, Alpha McLeod to the north, and Alpha Lorraine to the East, with Alpha Ruiz’s hugged along the still verboten national park, and Alpha Toddson further south. With so many new neighbours and borders formed all at once, extra patrols were needed to ensure the lines held. The last thing any wolf needed now was a territory dispute. Good scents made good neighbours.

The wolves headed down the other side of the ridge.

“You’ve been doing a good job,” Alpha Ruiz offered, out of the blue. “As my second.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” Larry said, surprised, but working to keep his tone even. It was a surprise. Alpha Ruiz was not one to give out compliments. He’d taken to his Alpha role seriously; the easy-going days of Alpha Pete were done.

“Let’s scent the ground some more,” the Alpha grunted, not lingering. When Larry stepped to move forward, Alpha Ruiz nuzzled his side. It took two more attempts to move forward, and two more nuzzles before work-a-holic Larry got the hint.

Scenting via a mounting was not exactly the most efficient of methods for a territory. Urine, scat, or scratching at bark, a felled tree... really, anything was faster. But nothing packed a greater punch in terms of the overall bouquet.

Plus it was much more fun.

“Yaaaaassssss...” Larry seethed as he felt his Alpha’s weight on his back, and his hole become crowded with an entering cock. Larry tried to emulate the gruffness of his Alpha in front of the other pack brothers (except for time alone with Tom, his mate). But out here, there was no one to see. Larry allowed himself to moan freely.

Larry and his Alpha rutted then and there. Larry clenched around his Alpha’s cock, not want it to leave. The paw prints on the ground formed a peculiar pattern, and the wolves alternatively strove to maintain their balance, push forward, and push back. The clumpy winter soil was soon coated with Alpha Ruiz’s and Larry’s leaking slick and spit. Wolf dander filled the air. The ridge was the pack’s. It was a beautiful thing.

One… two… three… four… five…

Tom relaxed his arms, and the pec fly machine opened up. Tom’s chest and arms followed in a controlled opening, like a butterfly in the sun. Sweat ran down his face. He tensed and closed his wings again, holding steady for the needed rep.

Two… two… three… four… five…

Tom smelt the lubricant for the pec fly machine’s mechanics, the soapy spray people had used for the seat before him, and his own B.O., soaked into his UnderArmour tee, the logo stretched out across his bountiful manly pecs and beginning to fleck away from all the washings. Since New Years, Tom had been rededicating himself to fitness. It helped that he had a free gym membership at Mountain Peaks, and he and Larry had scored a second-story apartment above the Chipotle three doors down. So no excuses. Wolf magic aside (he was already the second largest in the pack), Tom was curious as to just how big he could take this bulk.

The wolf had needed to replace all his sweatshirts at least once already and had put on fifteen pounds of muscle in his human form. More than once, even Alpha Ruiz had blinked at how big his pack member was getting.

Speaking of, Tom was tentatively impressed with their pack’s new leader. He’d had his share of alphas. Good ones, bad ones. Ones who he’d sincerely mourned when they passed, those for whom he’d been dry-eyed when they were deposed or felled in battle. Tom tried to be stoic about it. It came with the territory of wolfing, the wolf told himself.

Alpha Ruiz was ‘by the book.’ Yes, Sir, No, Sir. He was wise to take advice and suggestions, but there was no “let’s hug this one out.” The door was not always open with Alpha Ruiz, but at least it was not always closed.

Tom missed Alpha Pete; he’d been a good wolf. A good Alpha. Spirited, as irreverent and independent youth in his day were called. But still, good. But the loosey-goosey-ness was hard for a pack to sustain, especially in these stressed times, what with moving territories and dueling alphas, kings and humans intervening. Discipline and toughness were needed, one needed to accept.

Alpha Ruiz was the best Tom and his mate could hope for right now, the wolf believed, and Tom was legitimately proud to see Larry made Alpha Ruiz’s second.

There were implications down the line for them, true. Larry was now on track to become an Alpha someday. Which meant their mating would fade as Larry’s Alpha-ness brightened. But not yet. And they’d cross that proverbial bridge when it presented itself. Whatever came, Tom would follow him. To the end, if need be.

Three… two… three… four… five…

The butterfly wings opened again. They were quite a sight to see. Tom’s pecs had plumped up even more than he’d thought possible, two mounds of black hair forest. He’d stopped worrying about the thinning hair on his head years ago; he more than made up for it with his gorilla pelt. The wolf was particularly proud of his shapely arms; the way the symphony of forearms, biceps, triceps, and delts wove and bloomed around each other, flowing down from an ape’s frame of shoulders and strong neck muscles. Tom loved the giantness of it all. A gentle giant, he hoped.

Four…. two… three… four… five… One more set. Tom’s nose twitched. Alpha was coming home. And his Larry.

And Yousef was coming downstairs from the small storefront apartment just above the gym. The wolf smiled. With Bill and Nando on site, they’d all be here, the entire pack.

He loved it when they gathered. It gave his wolf brain a zing to be among his family. Five… two… three… four… five…

“Hey Sir,” Bill mustered up a cheery chirp as Alpha Ruiz and his second arrived. “Card from the King!” He held up the opened red envelope, his ‘Mountain Peaks’ long-sleeved t-shirt falling down his right arm, revealing one of his sleeve tatts over his well-worked arm and pronounced veins.

The use of the title ‘Sir’ was hardly proper but was a necessary concession for the time and place. With so many humans in their midst and the danger of detection doubly high after the Haig and Agent Al episodes, the pack was being extra careful. During working hours at the gym, ‘Alpha’ just could not be used. ‘Sir’ would have to do.

Bill was still trying to feel his Alpha out. The wolf had loved Alpha Pete, shared his house and bed; they’d shared deep affection. Bill would readily admit they had not been mates, but still, it had been wonderful. Alpha Ruiz kept a stern demeanor with him in comparison; Bill’s charm and bottoming skills didn’t seem to lend him any favors. That, coupled with his warlock vows and curiosity about things beyond wolfhood… his pack position with Alpha Ruiz felt precarious. Maybe that was how Alpha Ruiz liked it, Bill surmised, but he certainly did not. Larry had also taken his second-hood very seriously. It made for a very different atmosphere than under Alpha Pete.

Alpha Ruiz’s eyes rose in curiosity at the red card. “Gimme, Bill,” the large wolf bid. He snatched the envelope. He flipped the valentine open and began reading hurriedly.

“Have a little discretion, pup,” Larry chided, from the other side. Bill turned to him; the second was sniffing the air and looking back and forth. No humans in the immediate front of the gym thought the cardio area further on was pretty packed. “Next thing you’ll know and a guest will be asking ‘King Who?”

“Elvis,” Bill answered, feeling a bit angry and the duration of the ‘pup’ moniker. “On his long-awaited comeback tour,” he joked, hoping it would take the edge off. He’d been a wolf almost as long as Larry. He was the general manager of the gym, unlike all these shift workers. Just because he was smaller didn’t mean he was a baby still in his stirrings. This just had to stop.

:musical_note: A’don’t be cruel :musical_note: Tom sang as he walked up to the pack. He wrapped his giant arm around the still-coated Larry from behind and nibbled at the second’s ear. His mate grinned despite himself. Tom was one of the few things that could make the pack’s second melt into smiles. “Mmmmm,” he whispered, nuzzling and sniffing at Larry’s hair. “Looks like someone got some,” the wolf teased, and then gave a tickle into his mate’s side. Tom was in good spirits. The scents of all the wolves were mixing. It was nice to have everyone together.

“Yes, indeed,” Alpha Ruiz looked up from the opened valentine, ignoring Larry’s doubling over in laugher from Tom’s hand. The Alpha flicked his wrist; the card fluttered in his hand. “Ted can be a real knucklehead sometimes.” He flipped the card over to the back, trying to find anything additional. “Luna knows what he means by this.”

“The humans send cards in mid-February,” Bill offered. “Tell each other they care for one another. And chocolates. Things like that.”

“Great, so he’s got a human familiar then, bewitching him, feeding him ideas,” the giant Alpha tossed the card down on the desk.

“You sure there’s not a cipher there, Sir?” Larry picked it up. Tom disengaged from the hung to help take his Alpha’s coat. “Some kind of clue?”

“Why not just text, Sir,” the gym owner and social media star Yousef came up to the desk then. He was decked out in an incredibly well-fitting and matching workout shirt and shorts in a dusty olive—this year’s color for athletics—and very expensive sneakers. Before wolfhood, Yousef had always been a black-top-black bottom kinda guy at the gym, but the new sponsorship deals required him to be in these fancier duds basically all the time. Yousef would be lying if he’d said he wasn’t enjoying being a bit of a peacock, wrapped and unwrapped (the shirtless posts on @Mountain_Peaks_Gym always got double the hearts and comments).

“I seriously hope you are joking,” Alpha Ruiz did not look over. One of the first things he’d ended as the new Alpha was the pack text chain.

“Jesus, tough room,” Bill risked an eye roll, and logged off the front desk consol. “Some good letters here, Yus,” he held up the rest of the opened mail. “John Oakley’s ready with the counteroffer on the hockey / baseball sponsorships. Finally agrees to meet.”

“Nice,” Yousef have a hunter’s toothy grin. He and Bill had really been gunning for that one, both to get the athletes (who would bring along their thirsty own social media followers) to use their gym and for the advertising potential with the broader market at games. Oakley was a big man in that field, and they finally were reeling him in. Bill and Yousef both liked playing shark. The hunter’s instinct bled into everything.

“Where’s Nando?” the Alpha ignored they small victory.

“He’s putting away the ring lights, the tripods, Sir,” Yousef nodded towards one of the studios. “We shot some more content.” @Mountain_Peaks_Gym had surpassed five hundred thousand followers over Groundhogs Day, an amazing feat for a non-national branded gym.

“Well, go tell him to get his tail up here.” Being one wolf down (the norm was seven, and the pack had currently a sweet six), the Alpha was always keeping track. Some of the more seasoned wolves rolled their eyes, but this was an insistent Alpha. “Bill,” he turned to the smaller wolf, who was putting on his coat. “Take him and go do the west and south borders. Needs to be marked again.”

“But I just got off shift, Sir,” Bill sighed.

“Stand down,” Larry interjected.

Bill blinked and controlled his face. He gave no reaction. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Thanks, Bill,” Yousef said, trying to soften the moment as he reached over to log in. “My turn at the desk anyways.”

“Stop, Yousef,” Alpha Ruiz stated. The wolf blinked, but he complied. “First…” the largest wolf said, “I unload in you.”

All the wolves have a collective shudder at the statement. Alpha Carlos was always very direct. Speaking of, he reached out and cupped his pack member’s well-turned ass with his large hand. The desk blocked them from view. “Been… what?... three days since I scented you?” he whispered into his pack member’s ear, giving Yousef’s cakes a squeeze.

Yousef looked down. “Yes.” He shuddered a little, shuffling to ensure his completely hard manhood was somewhat concealed in his designer shorts. He also shuddered a bit in annoyance that he needed to pause his schedule, and scramble to find front desk-coverage at this business he cared about so much. And also shuddered at just how much he wanted this, his Alpha’s load, in his ass, his Alpha’s hand, all over his glutes. Shuddered at being objectified, ogled, wolf-handled right in front of his pack brothers, like a piece of meat. Shuddered at the thought of his Alpha. His scent, his spit, his everything.

“Men’s showers are free,” Tom said, as he took the front desk without being asked. Even from the front, the wolves’ sense of smell gave them a pretty good ability to gage the locations of the humans going to and fro. “You need a bath anyways, Sir.”

The entire pack was allowed a moment of guffawing, as Alpha Ruiz took only a little bit of umbrage. Tom’s status as the longest lived of the wolves, and his size, rivaled only by their Alpha, and his calm strength, uninterested in alphahood himself, allowed him some leeway to make fund where the smaller ones dared not tread.

Church bells tolled then, signaling the hour. St. Mike’s across the park from them kept pretty good time. The tones tolled dully. Bill was a bit of a romantic and he smiled.

“Seems our local mondjugen agrees,” the Alpha nodded over at the front door. Father Ray was one of the parish priests, and also unwittingly a candidate for wolfhood, born under Luna’s fullest night as all mondjugen were. The pack still had an open slot, and they were growing more established in their territory. They all awaited Alpha Ruiz’s call on when. “We better get going, before I stink up the joint.” Alpha Ruiz gave a sniff back at Tom. But his mouth curled up a bit. Both in appreciation of his old friend and pack member, and in delivering a solid smack on Yousef’s rump. “¡Vamanos!”

“You didn’t need to be so gruff, Alpha,” Yousef said, his voice getting decidedly more echoey as they entered the showers. The room smelled of water, lingering man sweat on the floor, and the soap that the custodial service used. The wolf leaned over and flipped on one of the showerheads, eager for the water to warm up. That was Yousef’s main complaint about the property; the pipes ran iceberg cold at first, no matter the prior setting.

“Mmm hmmm,” Alpha Ruiz nodded, slipping of his shirt, and hanging it on one of the towel hooks. The room was two lines of shower heads, without dividers, and some Spartan tiled benches in the center, the final wall hosting the door and the hooks. It didn’t take long for the place to steam up. They’d left the lights off. No need. The white tiling borrowed what light filtered in from the hallway, and allowed them to focus more on scent, sound, tough, and taste. All would soon be put to good use.

Turning back to Yousef, the now shirtless powerhouse of a wolf looked upon his pack member over. “You’ve improved in your glutes, your quads, Yus,” he walked around his pup, sizing him up like an owner does his racehorse. He dipped close, his hand raised just out of the smaller wolf’s sight.

Yousef tensed, and gave the slightest whimper, anticipating.

But no spank came. “Nice work all around,” Alpha Ruiz clapped his hands, the noises echoing against the tiled walls. “Nice… fucking… hot… wolf…” They were speaking openly about their wolfhood, and both were fully erect in their remaining clothing. But neither feared detection, despite the echoing and the completely unguarded open doorway to the hallway and the men’s locker room beyond. Since they’d opened up Mountain Peaks Gym two months ago, it quickly became apparent that the witch Barb had left them some surprises; the gym’s layout and offerings of equipment and facilities kept changing. A pool today, and none tomorrow when no swimmers had reserved lanes. Triple the number of basketball courts to accommodate the youth tournaments Bill and Yousef had secured, but then just one court on the other side of the door, and floor lines being completely redrawn for senior dodgeball the next Monday. A sauna with more dips and turns than one could think possible, and in a different pattern with each new entry. The humans, dull and dear things that they were, never seemed to notice, but the wolves did.

And when the wolves needed privacy, the building seemed to guide the humans away. Such as now. With the men’s showers occupied with pack business (and this was pack business), all the human males working out would find they were of the opinion they didn’t need a shower after the gym or would choose to linger on the floor with the machines. Bill found it fascinating and sought to replicate the spells in his own training. Yousef found it humbling, an amazing gift from an amazing set of ladies. The rest of the pack found it cool, and treated the gym like their personal playground, rutting and pleasuring in their jungle of a gym.

The social media followers delighted in speculating just how large Mountain Peaks Gym was (‘How many fricking Smith Machines does Coach Yousef own?’ was one recent comment).

“Alpha, I’m glad you enjoy—ahhh!!” Yousef started to talk, and then grunted out the last past as his alpha did spank him.

“Thank you, Alpha,” Yousef breathed, working through the stinging pain and fireworks going off in his head. The wolf moved to take his own top and join his Alpha in his shirtless heaven.

“Stop!” the Alpha darted around to Yousef’s front, giving a bark right in his face. The smaller wolf held back a yip of surprise and stayed still. “We’ve been through this, pup,” Alpha Ruiz lectured, adding a bit of baby talk to his voice. “I say when you undress, puppy pup.” The wolf stayed still as his Alpha stripped the rest of the way in front of him; pants, boots, socks, all the human garments needed to protect, warm, and cover their frail pathetic human bodies. Yousef was admittedly still a pup; he had not yet danced with Luna twelve times. But he was wolf, and his fidelity to, his understanding of mankind was fading. Away from his family as Yousef was, it wouldn’t be long, Alpha Ruiz surmised, until his pack member would be like the rest of them. Tom, Nando, Bill and the departed Pete had only the loosest idea of the human they’d once been. Alpha Ruiz and Larry were tethered to at least one family member of their prior lives (Larry very recently, via his sister). Alpha Ruiz found the slight regression to humanity regrettable, though it was rude to say so. Yousef was right behind them. He’d taken to missing his family’s group calls entirely now.

And then the Alpha was nude. Gloriously nude. His size as a man truly was amazing, especially pronounced without clothing. Six foot seven, and all in proportion. It melted the mind of many a wolf. Alpha Ruiz, still ‘Carlitos’ to his mamí but ‘Alpha’ or ‘Sir’ to all wolf folk, continued to stalk around the still-clothed Yousef. The smaller wolf, big and little, stood at attention in his workout clothes and trainers. The Alpha was amazingly beautiful in silhouette, the mist beginning to bead on his hair, his pubes, and his bare skin, little glints of light dotting the wolfs powerful muscular maleness, an amazing sight in the dim light of the showers. Steam literally wafted off the thick wolf cock. Yousef would swear he could feel the heat radiating off of it. It and the accompanying planetary balls, which Alpha Ruiz loved to have licked, cast their own shadow on the floor, it was so substantial.

“When I say you undress, puppy pup,” Alpha Ruiz walked around to the front of Yousef, using diminutive baby talk that both pissed Yousef off and turned him on so very deeply. “When I say…” the Alpha reached up and gripped the two sides of Yousef’s V-neck collar. “You—stand down!” he paused, as Yousef worked to control his titillated shuddering.

Alpha Ruiz valued control. Including self-control for his pack members. They’d need to defend their territory someday, perhaps to the death, and a wolf needed to count on his own body. Shuddering, wiggling, losing oneself to physical sensation… that needed to be drilled out of them. So Alpha Ruiz included that in his regular scentings of his pack. And he made a point of ensuring they were kept regular.

“When I say you…” Alpha Ruiz started again, going very slowly. He did not take his hands off of Yousef’s collar. The wolf in front of him, right in front of him, was doing better staying still. “Good pup,” Alpha Ruiz whispered. He took two steps forward, his hands still gripping Yousef’s V-neck. He was now right in front of his pack member. A small peck forward, and their noses would touch. “Eyes up,” Alpha Ruiz directed when Yousef instinctively tried to look down. The other wolves’ irises met his own. And then it was just their two sets of brown eyes, one Latino and one Arab, their scents, their breath between them.

Alpha Ruiz was so proud of his pup. Not that he’d ever say so in those terms. A spoiled wolf would not do.

“When…” Alpha Ruiz whispered. “I say for you to undress!!” He barked the last part and tore without hesitation at the V-neck. The shirt surrendered to Alpha Ruiz and the two swatches fell to the floor, a $200+ high end work out shirt (available in ten colors and with a @Mountain_Peaks_Gym discount with the special code!) now sodden rags on the floor.

Yousef had anticipated that. But it was no less thrilling, frightening, orgasmic. “Unh!” he called out. The wolf shuddered now, reveling in the sudden exposure of his hard-worked chest, arms, and trunk to his Alpha, and at the brute force his Alpha had just shown. When Alpha Ruiz went full Alpha like this, it turned Yousef on in every way. Every ounce of him wanted to pounce forward. To cling to his Alpha, to pummel his mouth with desperate ravenous kisses.

But the wolf strained, resisting his urges. Alpha wanted it that way. He stayed still, Alpha Ruiz remaining right in front of his face. Humans spoke of a zone of privacy about their person, but wolves do not recognize the concept. Everything was Alpha’s. The pack’s homes, their possessions, what human wealth they could gather, their bodies, their holes, their souls. Everything was Alphas.

“When I want, I’ll ensure you’re undressed,” Alpha Ruiz took one half step back, the better to grip onto either side of the waistband of Yousef’s shorts. “I’ll ensure IT!” He barked again, and Yousef bit his tip and grunted as the shorts were torn off of him. His junk swung free, spilling forward out of his wild black bush. The wolf’s thighs-to-be-envied quivered.

“Thank you, Alpha,” Yousef breathed. “Thank you, thank you.” The scent was really getting to him. Alpha Ruiz’s musk. It was a seamless inspiration to serve. Humans found their inhibitions lowered and their courage emboldened through crude alcohol; wolf musk was ten times more powerful and one hundred times smoother. A wolf who had danced with Luna five thousand times might not realize completely the effect of musk upon his judgement, it flowed into their minds so seamlessly.

Including an Alpha. Yousef’s musk was powerful too, especially after that December full moon. And Alpha was feeling horny. Incredibly. And here was a nude wolf right in front of him, primed for rutting.

The theatrics and training fell by the wayside. A moaning, pulsing Yousef was maneuvered to the tiled floor, shoes cast aside. The pup was roughly entered then, on his back. The Alpha was on his knees in front of him, holding apart those muscular powerful legs he’d admired. And giving that bountiful ass, the one this pup was working so hard at, some gratuitous spanks. A few on one greedy, clenching, jiggling glute, and then the other, while he skewered the center. The scent of the wolf beneath him, from his curly black pubes, his hole slick, the tableau of wet, muscley hairy man pelt in front of him, created a powerful bouquet.

“Praise Luna,” the Alpha murmured, and fell into an animalistic rut. He jutted his cock in and out, carving along Yousef’s walls, making the pup mewl and gutterly grunt. Alpha Ruiz loved making his pack lose themselves in the rut. His Latin hips danced, ensuring he hit the pup at every single possible angle.

In a moment of inspiration, he reached down and flipped the still-skewered Yousef on his side. The pup’s bulbous ass was presented, the cheeks almost glowing, yearning for attention.

Alpha Ruiz gave slap after slap. Yousef took it like a chant. The glutes quivered with each impact, the flesh rippling under the force of his’s hand. On his side, Yousef, used one arm to steady himself on the wet tiled floor, and used the other to lift his right leg up, ensuring he was spread wider, his body surrendering completely to the process. Alpha Ruiz admired the sight—the way Juan’s muscles tensed and relaxed, the way his body responded to the correction. It was, in the Alpha’s view, one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

It had not always been Alpha Ruiz’s kink. It still wasn’t, not comprehensively. But the responses it elicited in Yousef made him a convert during their pairings. The Alpha could not and would not deny the beauty of a well-spanked ass. The way it quivered and shifted, the way it flushed under his hand, the way Yousef’s seemed to glow with pride and humility all at once. But Alpha Ruiz’s intent never wavered. Discipline came first. Always. He gave a particularly savage spank then, and the wolf below him exploded in shouts and liquid.

Yousef came buckets across himself and the floor of his beloved gym. Far more than a pint. He was coated. Yousef fell into a piggish grunting, a creature well spoiled.

The Alpha looked down appreciatively at his pup. He sneered in satisfaction. Alpha Ruiz remembered well when this pup was a human, not even nine months ago. He recalled the night Yousef was bitten, triple baptized, and sent into a fury of stirrings begging for cock in his mouth, ass, and to be soaked in wolf spit, urine, and cum. There had not been a slip of same-sex leaning in this pup’s brain brain, back in his mondjugen days. And now look at him!! Alpha Ruiz allowed himself to feel open pride. A champion wolf, a champion fucker. And a seer to boot now. His champion. Praise Luna!!

“What is mine…” the king’s phrase ran through Alpha Ruiz’s head. Was it Yousef? Technically, everything was the Wolf King’s tribute. But a seer was a valuable thing indeed for the pack, any pack. Alpha Ruiz would need to hold this one extra close.

The pup below him continued to mumble and gurgle in his cummy, sweaty, wet joy. The kid was totally debased, a mess of muscle and sighs. Time to shape up.

A slap across his face focused him. “Serve me,” the deep voice above him barked. Another at the side of his ass directed him. “Pleasure me. Milk me.” Yousef looked up at the beautiful God that was his Alpha and began undulating his own hips like a belly dancer, clenching and sliding on the sausage inside him. He milked out the semen his hole, his guts, his soul so gravely craved. They were both soaking wet, two glistening muscle Gods, their grunts and barks echoing among the showers’ drum of water and echoes. It was a beautiful thing.

Bill and Nando dashed up the hill and barreled through woodland. Their paws cut through the crusty leaves and needles. The only sounds they left were their pants as the two headed away from the roads and approached the southern borders of the territory. The scentless national park loomed on the horizon as they veered east.

Bill had been silent since the two departed Mountain Peaks.

“You wolves making your numbers? For the gym?” Nando tried. They skirted some denuded wild rose bushes and barreled right through a bald spot. The two paused a moment on the other side, scenting it. It only took a few dribbles.

Bill was silent. They plowed forward.

“Oh, suck it up,” Nando snerked a bit. They leaped over a drip of a stream. “You’re not the favorite anymore. So what? No use wallowing in it.”

“Shut up,” Bill responded, not looking over. It wasn’t in a wolf’s nature to automatically look at their conversation partner, actually. Scent was the dominant sense; a wolf’s brain wasn’t immediately interested in the look of another wolf. They didn’t have a face anyway, not really. The sneer of a muzzle was always accompanied by the sound of a growl. Sad eyes were accompanied by a whine and the sound of ears drooping. And every emotion and sentiment had a scent.

“No, you shut up,” Nando grunted back. They found a dip in a stand of birch to slip through and headed into denser brush. This required a crouch; the two darted forward through undergrowth. “Shape up or ship out,” Nando said as he exited the other side, raising up again and shaking his coat free of leaves and burrs.

Bill gave a breath of surprise as he wiggled out and gave a warning growl back. “Watch it, pup. I was here first.” There was a glow of yellow and purple in his eyes.

“And I’ll be here last, if you’re not careful, claro,” Nando replied. He showed no fear of that flare of magic, just flipped his nose and headed forward.

Through some trial and error (Tom was a more than willing test subject), the wolves had determined that witchcraft held no danger for their pack. At least not the kind practiced by Barb, Xochitl and the learning Bill. Spells, hexes, incantations—they were dangerous enough for human folk, but amongst the were, the magic just sort of dulled. A sleeping spell that could fell an entire bus of humans just made Tom give a passing yawn.

So there was that blessing; the pack was safe from the craft, Praise Luna. No one knew quite why. Wolf magic, Luna’s curse… it was just old. Older than the hills, as humans said. And old things have a staying power.

“I mean it!” Bill shouted. Nando leaped over a log, and he followed. Nando was getting on Bill’s nerves. He’d welcomed Nando into the pack. He’d been here first.

Nando paused suddenly. “Paramos!” he ordered. The wolf sniffed the air.

Bill felt a surge of annoyance. He sniffed the air too. His mood cooled. Carrion… sniff, sniff… a deer. Fresh. Someplace close….

“Come on…” Nando urged. When in doubt, always follow your nose.

Over a log, and under another. Crossing back across the trickle of a stream, further on in its run.

The wolves surged forward into a clearing. And there it was!

A dead deer. Laid out on its side. Obviously a deer strike. The tell-tale crushing of a leg and ribs, and the smell of chrome and motor oil. The corpse was fresh and unclaimed.

“Yes!” Bill shouted. He’d take this win. The wolf gave a general warning bark to the surrounding trees. You never knew when another wolf or coyote was nearby. And then he dug in. The stomach was already half-open, so it was easy to get his snout in.

“Bueno,” Nando nodded. He was about to dive in himself. But he looked up a moment. These thick woods. Virgin trees, even. It was an awfully long way from the human road. A long for this wounded deer to drag itself. A really long way…

“Come on,” Bill belched, his voice slightly muffled as he nudged about inside the corpse with his snout. “Get while the getting’s good.” Wolves never forgot the hungry times, and the next one was always around the corner. Even in their human guises, that gnaw never truly went away.

“It’s strange,” Nando murmured as he stepped forward. He gave a few sniffs. It was all natural—fresh dead deer, the smells of pine… and some… “You smell rubber? Like… here?” Nando asked, giving a few more sniffs.

“Probably from the tires,” Bill waived it away. “Enough!” He dove his snout in again. Wow, but this was fresh!

“Probably,” Nando murmured again. He gave up on the thought, and dug in.

Way up on his tree blind, Paul smiled. “Wow!” the U.S. Park Ranger breathed. He took some more photos, zooming the lens in on the two wolves way below in the clearing.

Two males, the park ranger assessed. He moved his eye away from his Nikon D500 and thumbed through the view on his camera. It had been a big purchase, the camera, but Paul loved the side work as a photographer; he’d even been nominated for a national prize, and made runner-up by the National Park Service for a shot he got of a bobcat up at Glacier National Park. The human shivered a bit and snuggled into his insulated winter park ranger uniform and blanket. His rubber boots were at his side on the blind platform, covered with mud.

He looked at the images already taken. Two wolves bound over the tree log. A second, more athletic one, both mid-stride.

Paul bit his lower lip and brought the camera back to his eye. He took a few more rapid-fire shots. The human’s thumb rolled over the focus wheel, and the camera clicked some more. 10 frames per second. Thank God for digital.

“Giant fuckers,” Paul marveled absolutely quietly, aiming the camera again with his gloved hands, the fingers cut out. He could hear them grunting from way up here. Hell, he could almost smell them from up here.

Amazing shots! The park ranger was almost breathless with excitement as the two creatures dipped their snouts in and out of the deer corpse. One snarled at the other, paused to see his companion’s reaction, and then dived back in, his head almost fully inside the ribcage. The other paused a second, gave a chuff of frustration, and then dipped to the other side of the corpse, pulling at the left lower leg muscles.

Paul took more shots. They had to be record-setting in size, these boys, especially in the shoulders. Almost sloped backs, like a police dog. Enormous suckers! Amazing!

He took more shots. Many many shots. The camera whirred.

Gents—Really enjoying writing this novel, and I hope you’re enjoying reading it. I’ve launched an IG (Mountain_Peaks_Gym) and BlueSky (Mountain-Peaks-Gym) to play with this world further. If you’re on those platforms, give me a follow? Greatly enjoying the comments, encouragement, questions, and friendly critiques. It keeps me engaged and going with this novella. If you can spare a moment, I’d truly welcome your thoughts as well. You may not remember it, but I’ll never forget it.

Stay tuned. I have an exciting announcement for this group coming in March. Onwards, Gents!

“Oakley, you’re muted,” Yousef alerted.

… “Shit! Thanks! Jeez Louise! You’d have thought we’d have all learned by now!” the man on the screen laughed. Bill and Yousef offered a chuckle as well. “Anyways, guys, I was saying that the lawyers have signed off on the contract, so we should be ready to sign and start scheduling the roll-out.”

“Awesome! Yes!” Yousef pounded his office desk in excitement. The surface vibrated strongly from his well-built arms’ power, the pound echoing against the wall. Bills’ eyes widened a bit; he was legitimately afraid the desk was gonna break. Such was Yousef’s excitement. This sponsorship deal was big.

He and Bill rose from their chairs and hugged each other. An official sponsorship for the region’s minor league hockey and baseball teams: a major win for Mountain Peaks Gym.

“Thank you, Oakley,” Bill offered back at the Zoom screen where the team owner looked on from an apparent home office, pennants for the Timber Bears and the Snowy Owls on the wall in the background. “From the bottom of my heart. Truly, this is amazing for us.”

“And for me, guys,” Oakley offered. From what the wolves could see on screen, the team owner was a larger man—large, rounded shoulders and a muscular neck. Obviously, a football player’s build, with a trim beard framing a full face. “Now, Katie from marketing is gonna be calling you tomorrow for the marketing campaign, schedules, all that stuff. Should she use this email?”

“Yes, please. We’ll be ready,” Yousef offered. His happy grin shone like a light bulb. Yousef knew you were supposed to keep a poker face in business, but damn it, this was amazing!

“Love the enthusiasm. And let’s get you boys out to a game!” Oakley smiled. “Our Timber Bears face off against the Wildcats this Friday. Gonna be a barnburner. You free?”

The wolves agreed and settled on the particulars with the number of comped tickets and how to get their jerseys. They’d need to wear Timber Bear gear while in the arena (Yousef’s notoriety on social media was increasing, and with it the need to be conscious about crowd photos and tagging).

“Looking forward to meeting in person finally,” Oakley said. His eyes turned to someone off-screen, and he whispered a few things. “Sorry guys,” he returned to the conversation. “I gotta go. Next meeting. Running over a bit, apologies.”

“Of course,” Yousef nodded.

“Yeah, will be in touch. Look out for Katie’s outreach, and we’ll email the final docs for signature,” the human shuffled in his seat, and looked ready to leave the room. “Oh… and guys?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy Valentines Day tomorrow!”

“Ah!” Bill laughed, “You too!” The red ‘leave’ button closed them out. A pause, and then wolves organically embraced in a sighing hug.

“Fucking yes!” Bill offered; his face muffled in the larger Yousef’s well-muscled chest. They’d worked so hard to compete for this contract, to get the financing, to prepare their pitch.

“I know, I know!” Yousef smiled back. He loosened his hug for a minute, and the two looked at each other. Yousef sniffed the air a bit, and Bill nodded as he sniffed too. Their pelvises were pressed together, and neither’s arousal was a secret. Each thought the other smelled soooooo good.

Without words, Yousef lowered the other wolf to the floor of the office. They began making out, unhurried at first, but then harder and harder. Bill reached down for their zippers, and then both wolves were set free, swinging metronomes, grunting, ravaging in victory.

Business partners did not mates make, but Yousef and Bill definitely enjoyed one another. Alpha Ruiz was wise to allow the continuation of the prior Alpha Pete’s practice of open season on pairings. More stern Alphas acted as gatekeepers, but wolves had to do something with the pent-up energy, and it usually led to assassination attempts and coups; frequent trysts made for tight packs. Yousef and Bill took advantage of this liberty. Enthusiastically.

Bill latched on to Yousef and rolled him over. The larger wolf was hard—fully hard, a giant wagging wang, impossibly big in mortal circles, thought normal among the Were. The smaller wolf practically drooled looked at the angry, pulsing thing. Pinned on his back, Yousef moaned gratefully Bill went down on him. He ran his hands through the others’ brunette buzz cut, his pumped muscular arms pulsing as they surged back and forth like pistons over Bill’s noggin.

Bill was reduced to passionate gurgling. He’d been practicing reducing his gag reflex. The wolf would perfect it one of these days. In the interim, his guttural retching demonstrated his dedication. The very shape of Bill’s face was altered as his lips stretched to the hilt, a perfect circle, and his cheeks collapsed. The wolf’s muscular neck thrust his face forward, pummeling his mug repeatedly and mercilessly into Yousef’s wild bush. Carlos forbad shaving. Alpha’s call. It was a beautiful thing.

After the fifth retching sounded, Yousef bid him to cool it off with a reassuring pat. He was a kind fellow, Yousef. Bill withdrew with a proud grin.

The wolf stood. They’d removed Bill’s shirt somewhere in the process. He gripped the bands of his athletic shorts and tore those off too. Neither was concerned. They were getting new clothing from Yousef’s sponsorship deals by the forklift. The entire pack was decked out.

Yousef signed from the floor. Bill was the most fun with which to rut. They’d been doing a lot of it lately, ever since Pete left them. The two weren’t mated. But he was having a lot of fun along the way. None of the implicit power and ownership that pairing with Alpha Ruiz carried. Nando was always trying to get away with something. Tom and Larry were fun and all, but with Bill, it was so much more joyous.

Yousef positioned his hard member and threw his head back panting as the standing Bill squatted onto a happy landing.

The kickboxing class was in high gear, so no one noticed their hollers of ecstasy wafting across the gym’s main floor. All the wolves present, however, could and grinned at the blended wolf musk.

Paul clicked ‘upload.’ He looked down at his laptop’s clock and swore. The human was running late this morning. A lot of introductory meetings with local community leaders in his new role as the national park’s chief ranger. The Outlook calendar was packed.

The man had to laugh. The ranger’s new team was running ragged with the aggressive plans he’d requested, and here Paul was, getting sucked into a wildlife photography subreddit at 7:30 in the morning. Paul played ‘watch the pot boil’ for another thirty seconds until the uploads were confirmed. He shut the laptop with a satisfying snap. The park ranger was damn proud of those wolf shots from last week. It would be nice to return home later to a day’s worth of comments on the watermarked samples. Maybe he could even get some prizes for them. He made a mental note to look up the deadlines for submissions.

The ranger headed over to his bathroom, his big bare feet padding on the linoleum. He stepped out of his navy blue briefs and tossed them in the hamper. Paul had a narrower waist and hips, and a nice small but round ass. He had the figure to wear an exciting pair of briefs or speedo, “to show off my assets,” he’d joke to his friends when they gathered for an Atlantis cruise or boy’s trip to Puerto Vallarta.

Paul was disciplined and focused on his career. However, he’d be the first to admit he used to be a bit of a party boy. The rural lifestyle of a park ranger didn’t exactly lend itself to living in the gay hotspots, so Paul hoarded his leave for trips to the coast. Entering his mid-thirties meant recovery from a night out drinking took longer, and the nights clubbing were less frequent (a lot less). Paul also appreciated the mellowness that came with it. He could be serious when he wanted to be but didn’t let go of being flirty and maintaining his sexy body. Yoga and triathlons were his thing.

The human turned on his shower. He let the water to heat up and began doling out the daily pills into his hand: Vitamin D, berberine, turmeric, probiotic, Prep, fermented beet…

The smartphone on the sink counter made a bubbling ping. Paul gave a knowing smile, not looking down, and tossed the pills back. He opened the app. His suspicion was confirmed. That Latino guy with the coco skin, ‘Feet Lover’ was at it again. Paul did have practically swim fins down below. Made it really hard to buy shoes, actually. He moved to tap the ‘message’ icon.

But no, he shook himself out of it. Paul turned the phone off. Feet Lover would need to wait. No time for Grindr right now.

Paul showered, dressed, and did his hair. Some mousse, but not a lot. Just enough for a bit of texture. Paul liked the juxtaposition of his work; some days, he was in the rough woods, bandanas to hold back his curly mop, rough forest green duds, boots, mud and muck, the works; other days it was a clean-shaven face, perfect hair, beaming smile, and a spit-n-polish green dress uniform. Every day was different. Today was the latter.

The phone started pinging more and more as the ranger headed out to his car, text messages this time. Valentine’s Day messages now, from his buddies in DC (he’d most recently been stationed on the National Mall), his family group texts, from his nieces to their “Guncle,” and more texts of thanks for the Snoopy valentines he’d sent around.

Yeah… Paul sighed and leaned back in his driver’s seat. The messages were nice, but in a way, it made him feel lonely. No valentine for him this year, alas. He’d been broken up with Andres for two years now. Plenty of fun and hook ups in the interim, but nothing serious. It made for a pretty quiet moment in the car, in these messages of heart emojis, in his life. Maybe it was time to change all that.

Paul looked over at his black backpack riding shotgun. One last check. Schedule for the day, binder for talking points and notes. Business cards, so fresh off the presses they were practically still warm, the embossed National Park seal shining like a new dime. And his change of clothes and yoga mat in the back seat for the end of the day. Paul was lucky; they’d scheduled it so his final meetings were up in Deer Park, so he could use the gym right after.

As Paul turned his eyes forward, he noticed a flash of red. The second pouch was unzipped. He opened it a bit and gave a small grin to himself. The last of the Peanuts-themed valentines was still in the plastic case, envelope and all, blank and waiting.

“Maybe…” Paul mused. Who knew what this Valentines Day would bring? The studly park ranger zipped up the backpack, turned the key, then grabbed the radio. “Base, this is Chief Ranger Austin. I’m 10-8 and en route to...” he looked at the directions. “To Everett. First stop is the police station.”

“10-4,” the radio chirped back.

Paul walked out of the police precinct into the mid-morning sun. That had been an interesting meeting.

It was a welcome surprise to find the police chief was family. Paul thought he had a great rapport with her. But she’d become cagey when he asked about the reasons for the renovations that were currently going on in the precinct building (they looked pretty major). But the park ranger got what he needed; an introduction to local law enforcement south of his park, a pledge for mutual support, especially for suspected poaching and drug activity on the margins of the national park property that skirted the state route, an up-to-date list of contacts, radio channels, and the low-down on current operations and surveillance.

The bull dyke (she’s used the term herself, so Paul didn’t feel sheepish about using it) had softened up when he shared who he was driving to next. “Tell ole Toddson I said hello,” the chief offered cryptically. Paul figured there was a history—deep history—between them. There always was with these rural officials who held their roles for decades.

“Tell the chief I said hello right back,” Mr. Toddson gave a laugh when Paul introduced himself. The park ranger had been escorted into the property, a large catering venue dressed up like a hunting lodge, by a mustached muscle giant who met him at the door. The guy hadn’t said much, just checked a clipboard, gave some sniffs at their air, and then brought Paul out to an observation deck (screened in with some clear plastic sheeting for the winter). Toddson had come out a few minutes later.

“Sorry to make you wait buddy,” the silver daddy apologized. Paul’s eyes rose a bit despite himself. This guy was huge—muscles all over. Even more than Mr. Moustache who had brought him in. “We just moved into this property, and it’s a thousand things all at once,” the host said. He sniffed the air a bit, and then visibly relaxed. “You’re the new lead up at the park, huh?”

They discussed hunting permits, boating license processes, the status of the new planned visitors center, observation platforms, at the like. Toddson was all business. “Park’s vital to this region,” he nodded. “And I want to really turn this property into an outdoorsman’s paradise. Got Cabella’s on the line earlier; they’re sending a team to scope out the east lawn for a possible store.”

“It’s a nice property,” Paul nodded. They both soon as Mr. Toddson pointed out the slots of land where the store and additional spots for trailer hookups could go. “Funny no one already developed it when interest rates were lower.”

“Not everyone is as… focused as me,” Mr. Toddson said, self-satisfied.

Oh God… Paul sighed inside. This was the worst part of his job, so far removed from photographing bison and showing kids nature. “We should have you up at the visitors’ center site” the man offered. “See the new e-vehicle charging stations they’re installing.”

Mr. Toddson thanked him but quickly demurred. “No, no! Always busy. Best leave the park to you rangers. But my company is always available, if there’s ever a larger issue, like if you need a meeting venue, or gotta wine and dine someone. And if you aren’t getting what you need from the fed,” Mr. Toddson gave a wink, “I got a lot of sway with Congressman Lucas on Natural Resources.”

Typical local tycoon, thinking he ran the world. Paul expressed his thanks, but said the congressional engagement wouldn’t be necessary.

“You say that now…” Mr. Toddson rolled his eyes. Paul nodded, trying to make nice. He didn’t like to play dirty like that. There was just something about this guy… The ranger was decidedly ready to leave.

The man and the other got up and exchanged handshakes. “Who all you seeing next?” Mr. Toddson asked as he escorted Paul to the door.

“Mayor next, then sheriff’s office,” Paul ticked them off from memory. “Then a roundtable with the chamber of commerce. Heading up to Deer Park later in the afternoon.”

Mr. Toddson gave a theatrical whistle. “All the way up there, eh?” Like it was the North Pole or something. “Who all you seeing there?” he asked, slightly more pointedly.

Paul didn’t care for the nosiness. But none of these were internal meetings, so he couldn’t claim privacy. “Basically, the same. Mayor, police, their chamber. There’s a church up there that has an established outreach program for kids my rangers work with.”

“St. Mike’s, yes,” the man nodded. “Good group.” They got to the door, and Paul donned his coat. “There’s a new gym across the way from them, I hear,” the host said.

“Yeah, Mountain Peaks,” Paul smiled. He’d been really pleased with it since signing up. “I go there. Great yoga classes.”

Mr. Toddson gave Paul an once over with his eyes, very direct. Was he… Paul thought for a second. Never mind. If he was family too, Paul didn’t want to know. Guy seemed like a creep.

There was a moment of silence between them, and Paul eyed the door. “You enjoy your yoga, Paul,” Mr. Toddson gave him a satisfied smile and a reassuring pat on the arm. “Don’t let that park,” he eyed the border on the near horizon, “work you too hard.”

The door was buzzed open, and Paul headed out, his pith ranger hat under the crook of his arm. “And tell Yousef and Bill up at Mountain Peaks I said hello,” the host called after him.

“Who are they?” Paul called back.

“Owners,” Mr. Toddson said. He shook his head. “Never mind. You take care of yourself, Ranger Austin. Looking forward to working with you.

So many hellos, Paul shook his head himself once he shut his car door. Gotta be some drama there. Well, Paul assured himself, let Mr. Toddson’s drama be a one-man show. He put the car into drive.

The belfry rang out the four o’clock hour. In yesteryear, a shift of boys would be arranged to pull the ropes at the right time; these days, no human hands were needed.

Father Ray felt it lacked the personal touch. Once he’d been installed as pastor, he’d insisted that wedding and funeral bells be hand-rung. The priest learned to live with the rest of the ringing happening via a machine, every hour—on the hour. The old girl was over one hundred and twenty-five years old, the priest looked up at the vaults and arches in the nave. Extraordinarily beautiful. There used to be a lot of wealth up here, Father Ray knew, way back in the logging days and when the lead mines were still open. The priest was glad they’d invested more than a bit in the church at the time. St. Mike’s was their legacy, one he was glad to lead. Despite the automated bells. He had to believe St. Mike’s (a she, always, in his mine) also did not approve.

But back to business. He and two of the attendees were putting back the rest of the chairs when the parish secretary called him into the office. The new park ranger lead was here.

“Greetings,” Ray said as he came down the stairs, finding the visitor on the benches outside the small church office. “We were just finishing up with our recovery group.”

“Don’t worry about it, Brother,” Paul said, getting up, his hand extended. “I was enjoying the music,” he nodded over at another door ajar. The joint choir was in the middle of their rehearsal.

“Father,” Ray correctly in a kind way. “A lot of beautiful things here at St. Mike’s. Including our youth outreach,” he said, getting them on-topic.

“Sorry. Father Ray. Outreach which I hope we can continue,” the park ranger said. The priest and he walked along the hallway that ran along the cloister, with stained glass windows. The winter sun was setting, the windows alternating blues, reds, and yellows onto the grey stone walls inside. Paul admired the light while he explained he had a minor in education and really valued getting kids into the park. “But I have to admit; the arrangement is a little unorthodox, out of sync with the public schools.”

“It was grandfathered in,” Ray offered. “Been a tradition here, since before the park service ever came.”

The men talked some more about how funding was doled out, reservations for camp facilities, and so on. “Stay for dinner?” Ray offered as they wrapped up. “We have a Valentine’s Day dance. Kids, families. It’ll be fun.”

Paul smiled and chose his words carefully. “I think you should enjoy your communities’ company. I’m not exactly made to feel welcome.”

“Our Lord welcomes all who come with open hearts,” Father Ray offered.

“Not my people,” Paul tried to be polite. “Father… I look forward to working with you. I don’t want to make a—”

“Don’t say you aren’t welcome,” Father Ray interrupted. He stood a little straighter. “I’m the priest here, and so long as it’s my voice that says mass in this old girl, I say who’s welcome.” He looked back up at the line of small vaults in the hallway. “There are prayers that must be carefully worded, ceremonies that I cannot perform… But,” the priest emphasized. “You are always welcome here.”

Paul was touched. He hadn’t been raised Catholic but knew the meaning of that promise.

“If not here, then where this evening?” the priest asked as they headed to the front doors. “You have family here?”

“I’m running over to the gym,” Paul nodded across the city park. They were on the front steps now. “Get a yoga session in, and then home. I’ve been on my feet all day. A nice book and some wine. Go through some more of the shots I’ve taken in the park this month. I’ll have a valentine next year.”

Paul noticed Father Ray hadn’t followed him down the steps. He looked back and blinked when he found the priest’s face had fallen. He was standing just inside the threshold of St. Mikes. “I… I don’t go over there,” Ray said, looking out at the park and the buildings beyond. “I… never mind. I… I have things to do. For the… Valentines party. Tell the gym that St. Mike’s says hello, and that our faith strengthens us. Take care, and may God watch over you, friend.” And then he practically rushed inside, the large church doors closing behind him.

Small towns… Paul shook his head. Every person had a conflict, and a “tell ’em I said.” Seems like all they had were ‘tell ’em I said hi’s.” For his next assignment, Paul would put in for the Statue of Liberty or the Presidio. Big city posts were crazy busy, but there ‘no ‘tell ’em I said’s.’ Or hell, try for the Smoky Mountains and at least get to go to Dollywood, the ranger smiled. He loved country music too. A very bad gay, he knew, but he much preferred Dolly and Reba to Gaga and Madge.

Down the rest of the stairs and onto the sidewalk. Paul fetched his gym bag, but left his car parked on the street; the gym was too close to justify moving it. The city park, more of a village green, was empty of people in the waning light, but there was plenty of birdsong. The park ranger was no birder; he’d always be drawn to mammals for his photography. However, Paul could recognize the white-dabbled starlings as they prepared to flock and murmur in advance of their evening roost. Speaking of photography… Paul pulled out his phone. The human smiled. His alerts showed over one hundred responses to his uploaded wolf shots. Animals were amazing, Paul smiled. They always managed to bring people together.

More togetherness on Reddit that with all these regional stakeholders, the ranger lamented as he plunked his phone back in his gym back, shivered a bit, and picked up the pace to get to the gym. Everyone single one of his contacts today bidded him to say hi to someone else. Didn’t anyone talk anymore? He’d need to navigate all these village politics carefully in his new role. The park ranger really did want to make a success of the new slot, his first as a park chief.

Amidst the twittering starlings and the dimming sun, Paul remembered the old quote. He couldn’t remember the author, but it went something like “God created the universe, Man built civilization, and the Devil made the small town.”

Paul smiled as he entered Mountain Peaks’ lobby and fished out his keys for the fob pass. The Valentines’ Day decorations were a nice touch. Some workmen were gathered around a tatted-up front desk clerk, all wearing ‘HAL’S COMMERCIAL HVAC and AC’ on their navy blue hoodies.

The clerk gave a wave as Paul scanned himself in. Paul took a second to scope the workmen out; they were awfully hunky. Beneath the biker beards and neck tattoos. He and the front desk clerk, obviously family, shared a knowing wink, sharing the shared joy of some righteous studs. Paul always did have a kink for rough trade.

But that was just a fantasy. Yoga started at half past the hour. Deb was a pretty good instructor. She didn’t really go into the chakra stuff or call it her ‘practice’; Paul really didn’t either, so the teacher and venue were perfect. It had been a great two months of classes. Certainly, the human needed it. Triathlons were tough on his back.

Paul made a note in his Smartphone at that thought. He’d been meaning to explore the possibility of starting a triathlon, maybe a spring and an Olympic, in the national park. A lot of sign-offs for that, since it was a federal property. But no time like the present.

Phone tossed in his bag, Paul stripped off the uniform and got into a tighter tee and shorts. The assigned studio wasn’t even twenty yards off.

“Downward dog!” and they were off.

Paul had to admit: whatever that HVAC crew did, it was working. The air was much fresher than normal. Actually, it made for a bit of a draft, and Deb had to turn the heat up twice during the session.

However, Paul had something surprising to distract him from the chill. A powerhouse of muscle, a mountain of a man, Latino… wow… just wow… was in the class. Paul wasn’t sure if this was his first time or not; he’d definitely have noticed if the man were in past classes. The dude was a two people down, and one row up from him, giving Paul an amazing view. A giant. Like, would put the Rock to shame—giant. Had to be six—five, and a power lifter. Had to be, with that chest, torso, and arms. The stringer tank was painted on him, and the shorts fit better than any athletic-short-Facebook-ad ever could.

The dude seemed to be new to yoga. With each position, the stud looked about to compare himself to the other class attendees as he performed the dogs, lizards, rabbits, and the rest of the menagerie. But the guy was absolutely no stranger to the gym. Marvelous shots of ravenous wolve he’d photograph himself, views from hunting lodges of a mountain lake, and radiant church windows be damned. This stud was the most beautiful thing Paul had seen all day.

Paul caught himself missing an entire new position call, he was so taken. Hot damn… he laughed at himself. Worse than Thumper getting twitterpated. It took a friendly kick from Deb to make him move into the next position. Triangle. Meaning he was now staring right at the other man, with the guy’s muscular back on full display. The guy had on an athletic stringer tank, with lats basically exploding outwards and ridges upon ridges where the rhomboids, traps, and deltoids all met.

Paul almost lost his balance as he adjusted himself. If this dude was going to keep coming to the same class, the park ranger would need to ensure he wore compression shorts. Damn…

The class was all too short, and all too long. Short because Paul wanted to watch the guy more. And too long because he was so hard, and the class was largely women. Paul didn’t want to look like a creep.

With Deb’s call for the end of class and a wish for a happy Valentine’s Day, the class gathered to shame the peanut butter blossoms one of the attendees had brought. The giant athletic man rolled up his own mat, toed on some sneaks, and headed out with his towel. Paul rushed to roll up his own and follow.

“Great flexibility,” Paul called in the hall, as the guy as already halfway down it. He had to raise his voice a bit; the music from the cardio area was more prominent here.

The muscle stud looked behind him, startled. “Oh, me?” He looked at Paul. He sniffed the air.

“Yeah,” Paul felt a little self-conscious, but also a little bold. “Good class, huh?”

The giant sniffed again. It looked like a nervous tick to Paul. The man visibly relaxed, and then looked over at the studio door and nodded. “Yeah, Deb does a good job. Glad we got her.” He had an Tejano accent. Paul could tell. He’d done some TDY roles at Big Bend National Park and had worked in the Rio Grande Valley. A lot of sunburn, but the best tacos.

“Great gym, huh?” Paul walked with him, trying to continue the conversation. They entered the main gym floor. It was filling up with the after-work crowd.

“Yeah, pretty good,” the man nodded.

“Paul,” the park ranger extended his hand.

“Oh…” the other looked legitimately surprised. “Uh, Carlos,” he smiled back.

“Got any Valentine’s plans?” Paul asked, indicating at the garland along the wall. He winced inside. Too forward? Or a neutral and seemingly blameless question?

“Nah…” Carlos shook his head. “Sent some roses to mi mamí.”

“Mama’s boy,” Paul nodded, giving a friendly nudge. Too forward? Jesus, Paul, pull yourself together.

“Do not knock it. She makes a great pico de gallo.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime.” Paul was feeling bold. The giant didn’t seem uninterested, at least. He scanned the giant’s muscles. No tatts or other clues on being gay. But he just had a vibe that Paul read as liking guys. Here goes nothing… “I’m new here. Can you recommend any good gay bars?”

It was a cringeworthy question, Paul knew. But it established quickly and unambiguously that he liked guys and was seemingly neutral. Who didn’t know where the gay bars were?

Some banging and tinkering distracted the park ranger. He looked over to see one of the workmen closing up a ladder, left over from the earlier work. When Paul turned back, he cursed silently. Carlos was gone.

Damn it!

Next time, Paul thought to himself. He turned to head to the locker room but got turned around a bit. This had been a persistent problem. There was just something weird about the layout of this gym. Paul was a trained trailmaker and confident in any wilderness. He could use a compass, navigate by the stars, all of it. The human was proud of his sense of direction. But here, equipment that used to be on the left was on the right, and mirrors were installed this way were later that way. There was seemingly an endless number of exercise studios, though the assigned room for a class was always the closest one. It was all so strange. Paul probably would care more, but he also felt a sense that he should not care. It was also a beautiful place. The equipment was well maintained, everything was racked and re-racked in order. There was just a sense of… fun about the place. Paul couldn’t quite describe it.

He shook his head. Catch you later, stud, Paul thought to himself. Next time… Anyways, gotta shower… he thought.

But then a big sense of something overcame his intentions.

No, he didn’t.

Paul was sweaty from yoga, from the by-the-end overheated room, and from the entire day of meetings and driving. A shower was what was needed.

No, it’s not, Paul got the sensation.

Yeah, no… no shower, the human thought to himself. He started walking to the locker room. He could do without. For whatever reason.

He headed past a line of cardio equipment, all of them full, and tried to scan the sides of the main floor, looking for some signage to guide him. That’s when he heard the loud voices at the front desk, just twenty feet away and behind the stand-alone wall that separated the lobby from the equipment areas.

“I need to see my son!” a deeper voice insisted.

“Sir, claro, you need to calm down,” a familiar voice replied.

Humans are a nosey lot. It’s one of their main failings (one of many). Paul was no exception. He drifted to the front to see what was going on.

“Please, he won’t take my calls. I’m very worried,” the voice continued. Paul moved to get within view of the desk. The dude with the tatted-up arm muscles was still in the manager’s seat with a middle-aged Middle Eastern guy at the counter. He wore a trimmed beard and was fit, tan, looking half angry, half worried.

Paul raised his eyebrows when he saw the giant muscle God Carlos step into view at the front desk, still in his workout gear, whispering to his tatted colleague. Did Paul’s crush work here too?

“He’s very busy,” the tatted guy said. “Can you come back—”

“I’ll wait until closing, if that’s what it takes. I need to see Yousef Saad. He’s the owner.”

“I—I know that,” Mr. Tattoos tried to conceal his exasperation.

Carlos broke in. “Sir, if you don’t calm down, I’ll need to call the police.”

“Fine,” the middle eastern guy said, his gravelly voice staying even keeled. “Then there’ll be a police report, and as the owner, he’ll have to be present to speak to the officer. Works for me.”

The muscle giant stared at the man, and then sighed. “I’ll call him again, claro.”

“Thank you. I’ll wait,” the father said, and sat down a bit theatrically in the waiting area.

Drama drama drama, this town, Paul signed. He turned and headed back into the gym. Whatever that was about, he rolled his eyes. Paul was no stranger to the insanity of the general public. Working on the National Mall for three years was enough to learn that everyone and anyone had the capacity to go from reasonable and pleasant to bat-shit-crazy-insane in an instant. He didn’t want to get involved.

The gym’s to and fro’ing seemed more straightforward now, and Paul quickly got to the locker room. His towel and sandals were on the top shelf. The inclination to shower came back to him, and then as quickly came the sensation that he had no need to shower, could not shower, must not shower.

What the fuck? Paul shook his head. He hadn’t partied and played in years. Was this a flashback of some kind? He’d never experienced these weird sensations before.

Now, he just wanted to get home. Paul started changing. He’d gotten down to his athletic shorts when his smartphone issued a muffled bubbling chirp from the bag. He opened the app. ‘Feet Lover’ ‘s profile came up, with a flag on the message box.

**++ You’re close, papi??? ++**

That he was, Paul’s eyes rose. Less than fifty feet.

Another bubbling ping came in.

**++ You looking? ++**

Paul gave a boyish grin and started typing. Before he could get half a thought out, another bubbling ping.

**++ ..Cause I am ++**

Why not end the evening with a bang? He’d been a nun way too long. A flash of Father Ray crossed his mind’s eye. Paul messaged back.

**++ Where u at? ++**

**++ Meet me in sauna. Bring those feet ++**

Paul put on a towel, put on his shower sandals, giving a smile at his size fourteens, and headed over. The slam of the locker door echoed through the empty locker room.

It was only when he met the man in the hall outside the steam room that Paul put two and two together. ‘Feet Lover’ was the guy that signed him up at the gym originally, before New Year’s. Well, if he was an employee here, then Paul was unlikely to get into trouble. The park ranger got a bit excited. They were a long way off from an Eagle, Steamworks, or the Midtowne. Paul didn’t have many gays friends here yet, so didn’t have a connection for private parties. Maybe Mountain Peaks had an underground scene of its own?

Maybe that was what had freaked Father Ray out. Closet case. Gotta be it.

But it was hard for Paul to think any more on that. This hookup what hot. He almost did not believe it was the right guy. Paul felt legitimately flattered he’d been picked. The man was handsome, incredibly well-built, and had a sensual manner about him that just couldn’t be taught. Paul felt himself grinning like a fool. Especially after a long day of being a strait-laced professional, and the physical unwinding of the yoga class, he was so so ready. This was gonna be fun.

As was the custom with hookups, there was little chit-chat besides ‘hey’ and ‘hey.’ The man introduced himself as Nando, and Paul gave his name as well. Nando indicated with his eyes to the sauna and in they dove.

At first, they just sat. Paul enjoyed the good sweat, rolling his shoulders and breathing in deeply, but with Nando’s urgings, he turned to face the other on their bench. He kicked off his flip flop and offered the foot up to Nando for a rub. The other gave as sexy a sigh as possible as his hands clasped the large extremity. He breathed in deeply when Nando’s well-skilled hands got to kneading.

He sure knew what he was doing. Paul almost had to clench his teeth at the intensity and skill of it. Nando’s strong, obviously well-practiced hands cradled Paul’s foot, his thumbs pressing into the arch with rhythmic precision. He began by kneading the ball of the foot, attacking with deliberate, circular motions. Paul could hear the feet bones cracking. The coco-colored fingers traced over each toe, one by one, rolling them lightly between thumb and forefinger, stretching and then squeezing. It was luxurious. He felt spoiled. Finally, Nando’s palms glided over the heel, grounding his motions with a steady, comforting warmth, leaving the entire foot feeling loose, light, and completely at ease.

Paul’s eyes popped open at the first sensation of wet warmth. Nando was sucking his toes now. Enthusiastically. Well... who was he to complain.

The guy got more and more ravenous. Until half of Paul’s foot was up the man’s mouth. But it was a marvelous feeling. The park ranger was half in rapture, half on the way to laughing, resisting the ticklish sensation of that devilish tongue.

The guy stood up then, carefully putting the foot down on the bench. Nando dropped his towel. He was naked. Muscular. Amazing. Aroused. And how… Paul gasped.

Nando stepped forward.

Paul didn’t understand at first. But it soon became clear. The hook up intended to go all the way.

Paul looked down again. Jesus, this guy’s big….

It was turgid, dark, heavy, visibly pulsing. And dripping didn’t cover it; pre-cum came in a steady stream, glinting in the few lights the sauna offered. Oh Jesus… Paul stared.

He found himself being directed to lie down onto his back. He looked around from his turtle position. The sauna seemed… larger. The door ought to be within sight, and the box for the coals right there. But now, there are just more slats of wood and corners in every direction. And the steam was thicker, heavier, more somehow.

“Wait…” Paul breathed. He wiped drips of water off his brow. “We safe here?” he whispered.

“Very safe, chico,” Nando urged. “No one will come here. If you don’t want to be found, Mountain Peaks makes sure of it. Come on.” He moved to lift Paul’s legs.

“Gotta take this slow at first…” Paul sighed, laying back.

“Yeah?” the guy whispered. He moved in.

“Out of practice—uhn!” Paul whispered back but gasped as the larger man inserted two fingers into him, without ceremony. And then three. “Uhn!!” He didn’t see any lube, but it had to be somewhere. The digits just slipped right in.

“Oh my God…” Paul panted, both in pleasure but also in wonder. There was little pain. Far too little. Hell, he hadn’t bottomed since before Christmas!

After that, it was almost ritual-like. Nando leaned in and made out heavily with the park ranger. Paul readied this top, tugging at the man’s massive cock. Thick as a coke can. Enormous.

Then Paul’s hand was batted away, and Nando helped him lean back. Paul looked up at the steamy ceiling. What light that peaked in was shrouded in wet. He needed this so God-damned bad.

And he was entered.

To the hilt.

Paul considered himself sexually experienced. Truly vers. But this… okay, he was a convert. So long as this top was available, he’d be a greedy power bottom forever. Hot damn, but this guy had skills! The human moaned unashamedly as his sphincter stretched out tight as a drum.

The stud above him grinned as Paul writhed and twitched. The park ranger was surprised with himself. He was used to ensuring some performative moaning, but his usually rehearsed role kept getting coopted with real grunts, gasps, and convulsions from his skewered body. God, this guy was a master sex top!

The top, this Clydesdale of a man, from Paul’s prone perspective, started thrusting with his Latin hips. He’d been shorter before, Paul was sure (the ranger was six two in his socks), but he seemed massive now, towering over the bottom now. Nando reached down a muscular arm, one firm hand grabbing onto the park ranger’s right shoulder, the other clutching onto the left upper arm. Steadied and anchored, the giant stepped on the gas. Paul gave a grateful grin as he was taken over completely. He writhed again, luxuriating in the feeling of the man’s steel-wire pubes grinding into his mancunt. Paul’s grunts were drowned out by the constant slapping sound of his ass against the piledriver of a cock. He’d been turned into a cock-sheath, and it was glorious.

The full engorged buck ploughed in mercilessly. Paul awkwardly maneuvered his feet to caress the buck’s face. The top moaned all the more. It all culminated in a crest with a drawn-out grunt from above. Paul gasped and gasped; he could feel the heavy load pouring into him. The ranger closed his eyes and just breathed. Though he was conscious enough to shake his head and keep his hand on Nando’s arm. He would not allow him to withdraw. No fair stopping now. This big galoot had to have a second round in him.

After fifteen minutes of being railed by round two and gasping in legitimate surprise by a round three, Paul whispered uncle, and they disengaged. The ranger received a further surprise as Nando dove into his hole without hesitation. The man grunted as the other gobbled up his Santorum, noisily and enthusiastically. Paul wasn’t usually into raunch like that, but it was incredibly hot to be in the moment. The park ranger panted in the steam as he was performed upon. In a daze, the well-fucked man found himself being helped up and then guided to turn and bend over, leaning into one of the wooden benches. Paul gave a spoiled grin as the gobbling sounds continued, the tongue going way way deeper this time. He began to moan, his own cock hard again and wagging heavily in between his wide stance.

Then, without ceremony, a hot stream of water blasted on his back. Paul had a moment of confusion, realizing Nando was playing watersports. He felt a flash of annoyance. It would have been nice to be asked. But it had been going so well. Paul didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Nando must have been tanking up beforehand, or else had a monster-sized bladder. The stream went on and on. Paul’s size-fourteens found themselves completely in a puddle, the hot hot liquid running down his muscular legs, well-turned calves, and ankles. Paul had to guide the stud away from peeing on his face or head. But it finished nice enough, the friendly dick that he’d received so much pleasure from giving a few final dribbles, and then done.

“You’re a hot fuck,” Nando whispered simply as they shared a final kiss, both grinning like fools. “Hot feet, hot man,” he broke from the kiss and gave Paul a final once over.

“Thanks,” Paul whispered back. Hook-up etiquette demanded there be no lingering, so the next statement took him by surprise.

“I’ll be seeing you a lot more around here. I’ll always be able to find you now.”

“I’ll be around,” Paul said, trying to be non-committal. Not if I block you, he thought to himself. Paul had endured a stalker during his junior year in college, so he was naturally guarded and realistic about these one-time trysts and the easily made promises post-coitus. So long as things didn’t get crazy or possessive, a friend with benefits was just what the doctor ordered. This vers man enjoyed bottoming, but he was no sub.

Nando smiled and then was gone.

Paul remained in the sauna for another fifteen minutes, just staring at the ceiling. The coals hissed and the heat fumed. Somewhere, some water dripped. That had to be in the top five fucks of his life, the park ranger marveled. Maybe the top. Probably the top.

His hole twitched. Paul gasped as a dollop of globby seed belched out, searing hot as it ran along his cheeks.

The twunk gave a small, self-satisfied laugh. No, this was definitely the top fuck.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he gave a whisper, thanking the hook-up gods for their kindness. Paul got up at last. His towel was still on the wall hook.

He headed out the door of the sauna, which strangely was now just one small room, like Paul remembered it originally… Paul paused. His confusion wafted away like the steam that spilled out from the sauna’s door. It didn’t make sense. In the hall, he set in his mind to clean up. However, Paul found he felt he shouldn’t shower.

But he definitely needed a shower, he told himself. Something was urging that he shouldn’t, but Jesus Christ! Paul had just been cored out, eaten out, soaked in piss. Fuck, he could smell himself. The shower room was there, that’s what it was for, and he was gonna use it.

The determined Paul walked down the hall and entered the tiled room.

And found a younger clothed Arab guy—super muscular—sitting on the benches, head in his hands. The guy looked up, in surprise.

“Hey!” the man protested. “Showers off limits!”

“Sorry…” Paul said, feeling weird, but feeling super gross too from the fucking. “They weren’t roped off. Look, I’m filthy. Won’t take a minute,” he said, as if it weren’t self-explanatory.

He walked over to one of the stands without seeking permission and turned on the showerhead. Cold water came out.

Behind him, he heard some sniffing.

Paul looked back. The guy was standing now. “Apologies. Um… HVAC work. Was checking on some stuff,” the guy said. He had olive skin, short curly black hair, just like that guy out front. Hell, there was definitely a family resemblance.

And HVAC work? Paul didn’t care enough to point out that it didn’t make any sense. But whatever. He just wanted to shower.

“Where are Carlos and Nando?” the man asked then.

“Huh?” Paul looked over. It was kinda creepy that the guy was clothed and in the showers. “I… I’m cleaning up, buddy.”

The other man paused a second, and then rolled his eyes. “Latino guys, big guy and his buddy?”

Was this a police sting? Paul tensed up. The one guy worked here, for Christ’s sake. No money exchanged hands; everyone had been willing. Christ. “Look guy, I don’t know,” Paul said, and turned back to the shower, eager to get out of there.

“What’s your name?” the man asked from behind Paul.

“What’s your name?” Paul shot back, and then stepped under the hot water. He pumped for soap and foamed it up in his hands.

“Yousef,” the man answered readily. “Look, I’m not a perv. I own this gym… I just…”

Again connecting two and two, Paul cut in. “Your dad’s up front,” he blurted.

The other gave a pained look. “I know…” Yousef answered softly.

“So you should go say hi,” Paul said, keeping his face towards the tile. “And I’m going to finish showering and head home,” his voice echoed in the tiled room.

“It’s complicated,” the man responded.

Jesus Christ! Tell me your life story already! Paul thought with exasperation. He’d just had a fucking for the history books, and now he was trapped in a he-didn’t-even-know-what drama.

“You can leave your muscles with me when you decide to head up front,” Paul kept it terse. “They’re not doing you any favors in the bravery department.” He started rushing his washing, eager to get out of there.

When he turned the showerhead off and turned to get his towel, the man called Yousef was gone.

“Weirdo,” Paul shook his head.

The forest ranger headed to the locker room to get his stuff, dressed in his final change of clothes, some black sweats and a hoodie of his own (the uniform, boots, and belt safely in his gym bag). And out he went. Paul pushed the encounter out of his mind. Again, the Devil made the small town. He chose to focus on the sauna marathon fuck right beforehand. Wow… he savored the well-worked feeling of his hole as he walked through the back halls of gym from the lockers. Just wow…

Paul got out to the main floor without incident. It was only when he was about to round the corner and enter the lobby that his phone emitted the familiar bubbling ping.

“Next time, chico,” Paul smiled to himself. It was so nice to be desired like that. To be used like that. Like a fucking animal. Still, he didn’t want to try his luck after the amazing hook up. He had a thirty-minute drive still, and the game was on tonight.

Up at the front, the guy with the tatts on his arms was still at the front desk, phone in his hand. Paul looked over and could see the older Middle Eastern daddy still there, sitting at the visitors’ seats. “He’s coming up, Sir,” the desk clerk called, “just another minute.”

“Thanks,” the man said from his seat. He looked more exhausted than anything.

Paul headed for the door. He paused for a minute, fumbling for his keys. They weren’t immediately at hand, and the human recalled they were in the front zipped pouch. He moved over to the waiting chairs where the still-visibly upset man was sitting.

Paul moved over to the last of the chairs and opened up his bags. As he searched around, the human noticed his smartphone screen lit up. The Grinder pings, of course, but also a whole lot more alerts from Reddit. Paul opened the latter app and looked at the screen briefly. A user account he didn’t recognize had messaged multiple times. The last, top of the list, said in all caps:

**++ WHERE DID YOU SEE THESE WOLVES! INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT! DM ME IMMEDIATELY!! ++**

On my own good time, Paul rolled his eyes. People online could be so impatient! Paul tossed the phone back in his back and reached in deeper. He fished out his keys, and also a square package of tissues.

“Would you like?” he held them out, and the sitting man accepted them gratefully. He pulled one out and started dabbing an eye.

The park ranger’s bag open, Paul spied the flash of red alongside his laptop and notebooks. In that moment, he felt a bit puckish. Carlos, huh?... Paul chewed his bottom lip. He’d already received the top fuck of his life tonight… why not bet that the good luck would hold… “Oh, why the hell not?” he wondered out loud. The sitting father, waiting for his son Yousef, looked up in surprise. Paul apologized, indicated it was nothing, then opened the top pouch and fished out a pen.

Gents—enjoying the ride, and hoping you are too. The latest chapter is below. Your comments (good and critical) are welcomed. It means the world to me. The conversation is just as fun as the writing. Happy reading!

I’ve launched an IG (Mountain_Peaks_Gym) and BlueSky (Mountain-Peaks-Gym) to play with this world further. If you’re on those platforms, give me a follow?

Cast of Characters:

Alpha (Carlos) Ruiz, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, likes a tightly run pack, wants to dominate but not destroy, eager to prove himself as he and his wolves make their new home in Deer Park, headquartered at Mountain Peaks Gym.

• Larry Samuels, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, second in command, clever brunette gentlemen, distrustful of humans, mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Tom, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, black hair, stoic muscle daddy and gentle giant, with estranged children from before his wolfhood, mated to Larry, from Wisconsin

• Yousef Saad, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, Lebanese personal trainer, viral fitness social media start, and proud owner of Mountain Peaks Gym, coming into his own, owner of a German Shepherd named Frank, devout Muslim with a spanking kink

• Bill, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, hairy ball of muscle, sweet and playful, but a survivor, eager bottom with sleeve tattoos, general manager at Mountain Peaks Gym, and newly sworn in as a warlock.

• Nando of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, Colombian and coco-skinned, tough and guarded after some tough prior packs, athletic and horny with a fetish for feet.

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

Frank, Yousef’s familiar German Shepherd and, formerly, his human lawyer and friend

Nicolás Raymundo, ‘Father Ray,’ a mondjugen in recovery (AA), a Catholic priest at St. Michael the Archangel’s, across the park from Mountain Peaks Gym

Mahmood (Mo) Saad, Yousef’s father, muscular and fit for his late fifties, a Lebanese immigrant and Los Angelino mondjugen concerned for his absent son

Paul Austin, new U.S. Park Ranger at the national park to the south of the park’s territory, enthusiastic for all things wild, amateur wildlife photographer, gay and into yoga and triathlons, with a crush on Alpha Ruiz

Liz Whitmer, neé Samuels, sister to Larry, and a witch in her own right. Gives her baby brother a hard time.

John Oakley, owner of the regional minor league hockey (the Timber Bears) and baseball (the Snowy Owls) teams; large and gregarious man, contracting with Mountain Peaks Gym for sponsorships.

Alpha Toddson, leader of the South Territory, including the human city of Everett, noble and clever in the guise of a local well-connected business leader, ruthless and sly, a silver daddy and uneasy frenemy of Alpha Ruiz

• Mullins, of Alpha Ruiz’s pack, second in command, former Police Chief, newly divorced after his wolfhood, mustached, dedicated to duty and to making this new life work.

Yousef, Bill—Many apologies, but need to rain check on tonight’s hockey game. Oakley Industries = jealous mistress Have last-minute budget mtgs based on pending potential tariffs, cannot miss. Have arranged six (6) comped tickets at will call under Yousef’s name. Please accept with my compliments. Go Timber Bears!—J. Oakley

Timber Bear gear set aside for you at gift shop! I believe Katie + marketing set the sponsorship roll-out for the wknd after President’s Day?

Father Ray shepherd out the last of the congregants from Evening Song when he saw him. The worried man on St. Mike’s front steps looked lost, unsure, but also intent.

“Sir?” the priest called. “Want to come warm up?” Best start out neutral with the troubled soul.

The priest enjoyed the Vespers, especially the Magnificat. He’d really scored a coup with the new organist, having poached her from right out under the noses of St. Cecilia’s over in Danby Junction. Father Ray remembered giving a sugary sweet “Go in peace” when St. Cecilia’s reverend mother had expressed her outrage. It brought a smile to his face still.

He used that smile now to greet the troubled man at the foot of St. Mike’s. It was beginning to flurry, and February’s gusts was unforgiving, coming at irregular intervals.

“Come inside, sir?” Father Ray bid him in again. The man oppositive him looked up, a bit surprised at the beckoning. The man looked older to Father’s Ray’s eye, but fit, Arabic-looking. Someone who’d seen the world. He was gazing up at the church front facade but not approaching.

“You all right, buddy?” the priest approached down the stairs. The man looked pretty put together; he wasn’t homeless, by any stretch. The nice watch on his wrist meant he could afford at least a motel room instead of St. Mike’s drop-in center. A non-descript pack was on his back. The clothes were a bit tight, but that was the fashion these days, Ray waived the observation away. But the priest’s attention went to the core of it; it was obvious the guy had been crying.

Father Ray’s instincts kicked in; he was needed.

“Sorry,” the gravelly voiced man offered, finally getting focused. He shivered in his coat; it really wasn’t thick enough for this climate. He rubbed his nose with his hand again. His voice, slightly accented, Father Ray could tell, broke a bit as he spoke. “My son… I… don’t know what to do.”

“Come inside for one,” Father Ray said. He reached out his hand. “Come on inside. It’s snowing. Have some coffee. Warm up.”

Mo followed him in. He took a second more to admire the church’s handsome rose window. There were two lancet windows on either side, completely blackened.

The coffee in the side room at the back of the nave was exhausted, but the hot water urn was still plugged in. The two men poured it into the available Styrofoam and took the cups and some tea bags over to one of the back pews.

Father Ray made the sign of the cross and sat.

“I apologize, I don’t…” the other said as he stood for a second, unsure of what to do.

“Don’t worry about it,” the priest raised his cup. “You’re welcome here. Please sit.” They both too a swig of tea. St. Mike’s nave was empty above and beyond them. The steam from the tea wafted up in between the two.

“It’s a… it’s a nice space,” the man observed, still standing, arching his eyes across the architecture of the vaults, columns, and windows.

“That she is,” Father Ray nodded, smiling. “Her name is St. Michael’s,” he tried a tactic to get through this poor soul’s avoidance efforts. “What’s your name, friend?”

“I’m… I’m Mo,” the man introduced himself, then took another sip. “I mean… my friends call me Mo.”

“Well, any person coming into my doors seeking help is my friend, Mo,” Father Ray replied.

“I’d… I’d have gone to an imam, but there’s none near here,” Mo apologized, his eyes still dazzled a bit by the stained glass and the archways. Or else it was a way to avoid eye contact. “And I just cannot go home. Without helping my son.”

“Don’t worry about all that,” Father Ray waived it off. “Our house is open to anyone in need. How can we help you? Is your son… um… I mean, was he arrested or something?”

“No,” the gravelly voiced Mo shook his head as he sat, putting his backpack alongside him in the pew. “He’s…” the man paused, then gave a laugh. “He’s incredibly successful, actually. But he…” the man’s voice broke completely, and he fell into a light cry. “He won’t see me.”

“What’s his name, your boy?”

“Yousef,” the man looked up, giving a brave smile, the smile of a father.

“Twenty bucks for parking!” Larry groused as they were beeped in by the ticket attendant. “This game better be good!” The arena’s concourse smelled like stale beer, heated pretzels, and salty popcorn.

“Shut y’all’s yap,” Liz jabbed her baby brother in the ribs with her elbow. “You just got in for free.”

Larry grunted, but didn’t say anything more. Bill and Yousef, to their right, exchanged grins. Liz had a knack for putting Larry in his place. Alpha Ruiz and a still—spaced—out, freshly-scented Tom followed them. The Alpha had attended to Tom immediately before they’d piled into Tom’s Cherokee and gone to pick up Liz.

“Behave yourselves!” Alpha Ruiz barked, but mostly at his Second. The six of them, Alpha Ruiz, Larry, Liz, Tom, and the glorious in victory Bill and Yousef, were at the game. Nando was on patrol duty.

First stop was the gift shop. Their Timber Bears gear had been set aside at the counter. Most of the wolves were able to get into an XXL jersey (Tom just barely), but Alpha Ruiz had to be special ordered an XXXL. And even then, it was painted on, pecs straining, shoulders surging, lats fanning biceps exploding out of the poor, poor fabric. The nipples poked out lewdly.

It was a beautiful thing.

“Does it look ridiculous?” Alpha Ruiz asked, rolling his boulder shoulders, looking in his faint reflection in the glass between the store and the concourse hallway. He winced at the reflection.

“It looks amazing,” Bill offered, running his hands across his Alpha’s torso, enjoying himself but also trying to not make it look too gratuitous. “And I can add some panels on the side seams later.” Comforted, the Alpha nodded. He was an all powerful Alpha, but everybody—everybody—feels insecure about their looks, and of sticking out, at times.

“So what section?” Larry asked as they exited the store. He’d been against going. It was a risk to have the pack all out at once like this, inside, among so many humans. Especially after all the law enforcement attention that Agent Al had brought.

Speaking of…

“Sweet Jesus,” Bill stopped in his tracks. The trailing pack bumped into his behind, like the cars of a freight train. They could smell him before they saw him.

Across the concourse, with several officers in blue, was a German Shepherd, athletic, strong, pulling eagerly against his leash. He wore (proudly?) a matching vest with yellow warning letters cautioning ‘no petting—I am working,’ and was led along the lines of people coming in, sniffing at the bags.

“Well…” Yousef sighed.

“Looks happy as a clam to me,” Larry grouched again. “I’m not sorry at all.”

“Ay!” Alpha Ruiz batted the back of Larry’s head. “Who wound you up? Gonna have to scent you immediately when we get home,” he asserted.

Larry quaked a little in anticipation.

“Come on,” Bill eyed the dog, “Let’s go. This way.” Better they left before the K-9 officer caught wind.

Going counterclockwise along the concourse, Tom was all grins. It had been ages since he’d been to a hockey game. The crowds, the craziness of food lines, beer lines, toy lines, screaming kids, laughing dads, and everywhere a sense of chill, of being somewhere.

He almost gasped as they entered the arena, the entire space tinged a ghostly blueish white, the rink spread out like a picnic blanket below. The space smelled of ice and energy and the gasoline fumes from the exiting Zamboni. The arena was clean, bright, tip-top. Yousef and Bill both raised their eyes, glowing grins on their faces. This sponsorship deal was gonna be so cool.

“You’re in a good mood, bro,” Tom nudged Yousef’s side as they went down the stairs.

“I could say the same for yourself,” Yousef said back. Tom’s smile went from ear to ear.

“I grew up with this,” Tom shook his head. “Used to go every week to a game with my dad, my brothers. And my baby girl.”

The arena horn buzzed, followed by a thousand cheers. The audience was full of Timber Bear beanies. Liz gave a laugh as Tom fished one out of the gift shop back and put on her little brother. Larry struggled a bit but accepted it after a second and finally cracked a smile.

The buzzer sounded again. The pack and the witch rose and put their right hands on their hearts.

Father Ray had the needed training to bring out hard stories. Mo was from Los Angeles. His son lived in town, had made a great success of himself in the fitness industry. But he’d become non-communicative as his coaching had gone viral. The Saad’s were a tight-knit family; always had been, back in Lebanon and even more-so in California, those of them who had gotten out during the war.

Father Ray sighed at the mention of war. It wasn’t worth the effort to ask which war. There were far too many.

“He’s missing group calls, not phone his aunts, won’t return my calls, won’t…” Mo’s voice broke again. “So I…” he gathered himself, “I come here. I went…” he paused to thank Ray as he took an offered tissue. “I went to see him, at his gym. The staff almost turned me away. Almost made a scene,” he laughed.

“Did he come?” Father Ray asked. He sat up a bit at the mention of the word “gym.”

“Yes,” Mo looked up. He wiped his eyes again. “My boy came. We talked in the lobby. He was nervous. Kept looking around, saying I should not have come.” Mo shook his head. “Said he loved me, that he’d be better keeping in touch. But that I was not safe here… Brother.” Mo looked over at Father Ray. “He’s my boy. I’ve always protected him. I’m supposed to keep him safe. Always.”

Mo’s weathered eyes glistened as he asserted these things. “He will not answer my calls, Mr. Ray. My own son refuses to see me. What is a father without his child?”

Father Ray scanned his brain for the best approach. Settling on a verse, he started in. “Mo, the pain you feel is deep, I know… In my faith, we remember the words of the Prodigal Son. Luke 15:20,” he recited the parable from memory. “‘But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.’ The son comes back. Keep giving him your love and signs of welcome. Your love is steadfast, I can see that. Love like that has the power to heal, even from afar.”

Mo smiled faintly, but it quickly faded. “You are kind… Father, yes?” The priest nodded. “Father, you are gracious, but the Koran says, ‘Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves.’ He is… my son is…” Mo smiled then, recalling his Yousef’s headstrongness and independence, “He’s his own man. Always, since he was little.” He sighed. “My prayers may not reach him if his heart is closed.”

Father Ray reached out, placing a hand on Mo’s shoulder. “Even so, never underestimate the seeds of love you sewed in his heart. I’m sure you were a good father to him. That never goes away. What we do in love, Mo, often takes root in ways men cannot yet see.”

“I tried to see him today, again,” Mo lamented. “I went to the gym again. Right across the way,” he indicated with his hand in the general direction. “Yousef would not see me.”

“Yousef… he works at the gym… across the park? That Yousef? Mountain Peaks Gym?” The priest crossed himself. He sat up in the pew.

“Yes,” Mo nodded. He smiled, showing a father’s unedited pride. “He looks great! He’s really put on a lot of muscle. Completely giant… I was…” The Arab father looked down. “I was afraid it was drugs. It cannot be that.”

“I think he’s mixed up in something dangerous then,” Father Ray said, breathing more deeply, thinking of Yousef’s referral to Pete at the precinct. “I’ve met your son… he… he keeps some dark company,” the priest stood up in the aisle.

“My boy would never hurt anyone,” Mo was absolutely floored. “Dark company? He wouldn’t. You’re wrong. Look!” The man opened his backpack and pulled out an opaque glossy grey plastic bag. A grinning, winking black wolf was on the side, ‘Mountain Peaks Gym’ arching over his winning bicep. “He’s created a gym out of nothing. He’s got a real business!”

Mo flipped the bag over, dumping gym schwag onto the pew seat next to him. He picked up a folded t-shirt and held it up. The same grinning logo, the same font, the same winking wolf. “See!” Mo looked proud and desperate at the same time. “I’m…” his voice broke. He sniffed the air a bit. “I’m proud of him. I just don’t know what I did, what I did to drive him away from his family.” The man gave another sniff and blinked, shaking his head.

His attention faltered. A brief wave of light-headedness washed over the middle aged Middle Eastern daddy, his eyelids fluttering as he blinked to steady himself in his seat.

Ray sniffed the air inadvertently too. “I… you…” he could not find words. He felt unsteady himself.

“I’m proud of him.” Mo repeated, looking down at the shirt. His speak slowed. He brought the t-shirt to his face to dry his eyes. And then he paused. The fabric right against his face. And then he sniffed. And sniffed again. Father Ray watched, the visitor’s face went a little slack and his breathing cooled. Mo didn’t react further for a space and then brought the shirt completely to his face. He sniffed. He sniffed again.

Then he inhaled deeply. Long and deep.

Another deep breath. His hands tensing, his fingers gripped. “Ah, Allah…” the man panted, muffled beneath the shirt.

The shirt inadvertently covered his eyes. If Mo could see, he would have viewed a sweating Father Ray, also sniffing the air, and the odor of the shirt. Amidst the freshness of the new garment… that odor…

Ray clamped his eyes shut, trying to close out the memory of his encounter with the prisoner Pete Townsend, the one Yousef had connected him with. That… demon thing…

They both sniffed. And sniffed. And panted. And quaked.

“And did you tell the night staff to fill the soap dispensers?” Bill asked.

“Yes,” Yousef said, looking intently at rink.

“Co-sign the check for the fifth Smith Machine?”

“Yes!” Yousef asserted, his head bobbing, following the players as their soared. Tom, on the other side of Bill, gave a whoop at the news of a fifth Smith Machine.

“Stuff the rest of the promotional bags?”

“Yes!” Yousef said, exasperated. “Fully stocked up. Take the night off, Bill!”

Bill rolled his eyes, and went back to his phone, typing in additional notes. “Just checking.”

The pack was seated in a row of six, with Tom and Alpha Ruiz on the two ends, their size really requiring the aisle seats to have any hope of comfort.

“Y’all really ought to contract that bag stuffing out,” Larry observed from Yousef’s other side.

“Or get a temp,” Liz, one further down offered, between sips of beer.

“I’m work’n on it, I’m work’n on it,” Yousef stressed, half exasperated, half clowning, as he starred Larry down.

“Here I thought viral social media whatever’s lived the good life, y’all hanging out with the Kardashians n’ shit,” Larry said.

“I don’t hear you complaining when you got to do chest day today for free,” Yousef said back. “Back off, bro.”

Larry gave a subtle growl.

“Shut it!” Alpha Ruiz barked from the end. He was enjoying the game.

Larry nodded. He looked forward. The action picked up, and the crowd’s noise with it. Praise Luna, but he needed to be scented, and good…

“Y’all gotta be careful with that shit anyway,” Larry said, thinking of scent.

“What!” Yousef shouted back. The crow was getting really loud as the playing intensified.

“I said, y’all gotta be careful!” Larry leaned over.

“Why?” Yousef leaned back to his seatmate.

“Cause if you’re touching all that schwag, you’re gonna leave a scent!”

“Leave what?”

The crowd had died down before Larry could adjust. “A scent!” he shouted back. A few spectators around him looked back at him.

“Sorry,” Larry gave a small wave. He brought his voice down. “I meant, you’re touching all that stuff. We got the HVAC fixed so the gym should be good for doing away with our dander and musk. But if a mondjugen gets a hold of one of those bags…”

“Won’t happen,” Yousef shrugged. “We set up the registration system to flag them. If we run into them, we plead a system error, tell them to come back later to register, and give Alpha his option.”

“And if they take the bag home?” Larry pressed.

“Won’t happen.” Yousef said. “We say we’re out. Talked about this. Right, Bill?” he turned to his partner, engrossed in his phone.

“What?” Bill looked up.

The pack’s second sighed. “It’s a wonder you two don’t get concussions attacking your own reflections in the exercise studio.”

“Behave, boys,” Liz said from the other side. “If I wanted to hear bickering all night, I’ve have gone to coven.” She and Alpha Ruiz toasted their plastic beer cups; each took a sip.

“Enh…” Larry smirked. “Can’t be any mondjugen in that gym anyways. Not amongst the likes of all those scrawny mother fuckers y’all train,” he jabbed Yousef in the ribs.

“Oh, fuck you, Larr—” Yousef jerked his head over. The Wolf was interrupted by a bang and scuffle on the ice. A Wildcat had shoved a Timber Bear hard against the side wall, and the recipient had thrown his helmet off, fists flying. Sticks flew and punches were thrown as the athletes heaved and seethed in the middle of a quickly thickening mob.

“Kill! Kill!! Kill!” the wolves all jumped to their feet, roaring and waving their fists.

The spilt tea spread out across St. Mike’s aisle.

A warm, buzzing sensation spread through Father Ray’s head, making everything feel slightly detached.

“The… fuck?..” Mo blurted, almost slurring his words. Both their vision blurred at the edges, and the lights from the chandeliers seemed brighter and fuzzier than usual.

“Your son’s in league with those demons!” Ray clutched his forehead, scrambling to get away. The man was barely able to keep his balance.

“He… the fuck, buddy!!!” Mo snapped to it, offended. “My boy wouldn’t… I mean, what the fuck?! Who the hell are you???” the Los Angelino stood too, very defensively. “He woulnd’t!” the protective father shouted. “He woul—” ** ++ SNARL!!!++ **

The stone church walls echoed the animalistic noise.

Father Ray gasped, backing up four steps in a panic, almost falling in between the pews opposite.

The guest in the pews clutched his mouth, almost doubling down in the seats. “Ya allah!! I’m sorry! That’s…” he panted as he stood erect again, his hand barely drifting down, his eyes fearful. “That’s been happening too… when I…” he swallowed, trying to get his jaw right. Mo brought his hands into a praying clasp. “When I get upset,” he looked up at the priest, his face fearful.

“Oh my God,” Father Ray continued to back up, almost panicking now. No, no… he was barely holding it together with his recovery. But the demon… the longing… the…

“I’m not scared for myself, buddy. I just want to know my boy is all right,” Mo pleaded, walking out from the pew into the aisle.

The priest backed up in panic, not thinking. He banged into the wall alongside the main church doors. Flailing, Ray’s arm got tangled in the ropes wrapped around a tieback hook. As the priest withdrew his arm, the ropes slipped out. They whipped up, and a giant whooshing was heard.

Both Father Ray and Mo looked up as the heavy black curtains were quickly drawn back. The action revealed the two lancet windows, on either side of the central rose. They were tall, narrow with the pointed arch pointing to the heaven. In the center panes were featured two bearded saints. The ancient looking men wore heavy brown and white floor-length robes, one holding an empty bowl and with a rope belt bearing three knots, the other a book.

In the nave below, both men drew back. As if it were a stage play, the cloudy skies outside gave a lightning strike, illuminating the colored glass.

Ray was intimately familiar with these saints, their prayers, their stories, their protectorates. Mo didn’t know them at all, but his and Ray’s eyes both were drawn to the depicted men’s companions. For around each of the crystal saint’s feet crouched a wolf, meek and mild, depicted in grey and white shards of glass encased in lead piping. The artist had chosen yellow for the eyes, a fleck of green around the coal pupils.

“Jesus Christ!” Father Ray breathed. He crossed himself. He’d ordered them be kept covered. He’d needed them to be hidden. He didn’t know why. God help him, he didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t bear to look at them. Looking at them gave the priest the same feeling as a bottle of scotch—something he wanted, wanted desperately.

Both the men grunted. The scent of the t-shirt was sooo good.

It was as the first period was ending that Alpha Ruiz picked up the scent.

The wolf’s brows furrowed. He took a sniff. Then two more urgent sniffs. His eyes narrowed.

Manoeuvring his arm around Liz, he got his second’s attention. “Hey… why is Nando here?”

“What?” Larry looked back, confused.

“Nando,” Alpha Ruiz asserted. He sniffed the air again. “He’s here. At the game.”

“If he is, I’ll beat his butt,” Larry took his nose to the air himself, inhaling. “Fucker’s on patrol duty tonight… Jesus, you’re right.” It was definitely Nando’s scent, amidst the soup of human smells pooling in the arena.

“I’ll go look,” Alpha Ruiz stood, and got into the aisle. Larry stood to follow, but the Alpha chided him. “One of us may as well enjoy the game,” he waved his muscular arm for Larry to sit, the poor jersey sleeves doing yeoman’s work to stay intact. “I got this.”

“Okay, Alpha,” Larry said at the departing Wolf. His gaze lingered on the Alpha, admiring the wolf’s backside as he headed up the stairs. Larry sighed. Praise Luna, he wanted to be scented. No, he needed to be scented. He ground his ass into the arena seat, desperate for some sensation. He sighed, not wanting to ruin the game, but impatient to get home.

Liz didn’t ask if everything was good. She could see from the body language it was not.

Alpha Ruiz rounded the concourse counterclockwise, following the scent. It was definitely Nando. Disobedient little fucker. The Alpha had half a mind to spank him. Was supposed to be on patrol duty…

No… Alpha Ruiz grinned. He had a full mind to spank the wolf. And ensure Yousef was forced to watch, and maybe even hold Nando down for his Alpha. Fuck… the Alpha grew hard, so hard his grin grew into a chuckling grimace. That’d be hot, he nodded as he turned to face the wall by the men’s room to adjust himself.

The scent was getting hotter. Stupid little fucker. Hotter, hotter. Right behind this group of U.S. Park Rangers… right behind…

“Oh! Hey, Carlos,” one of the rangers looked around when Alpha Ruiz was almost upon him. It was Paul, in a casual forest greet jacket with the National Park Service patch.

“Ay! Hey…” the Alpha said, trying to play it cool, but obviously confused. He sniffed. He sniffed again. Nando ought to be right here!

“How are you?” Paul asked. He blinked a bit, agog at the wolf’s amazing muscles squeezed into to the tight jersey. He gave a confused look at the third sniff. “What? Someone let one?” he sniffed the air himself. He didn’t smell anything.

“Was Nando here?” Alpha Ruiz asked, looking around.

“Nan… who?” Paul asked. He was still distracted by the muscles. Jesus Christ, those pecs. Those nips! Paul mused what he’d love to do to them.

“Uh… never mind,” Alpha Ruiz said. “I thought he was here.”

“Is that the Nando at Mountain Peaks?” Paul asked, getting it together, hoping his erection wasn’t showing. It was.

“Yeah…” Alpha Ruiz, smelling the human’s arousal acutely, the emissions of musk from his hole and pits, the pungency of his pubes blooming. All of that information gathered along with Nando’s stink, and the Alpha put together two and two.

Nando had marked the guy. Which meant, the Alpha gave a knowing grin, as Nando belonged to Alpha Ruiz, so did Paul. Understanding the situation a little better (and trying to save face), Alpha Ruiz sized the human up. Good chest, nice trim waist, an ass that could fill out his jeans, and a nice woodsy smell. Not a bad human to own.

In the silence, Paul sought to fill it. Humans are always trying to fill the silence. It is one of their worst traits. “Enjoying the game? I brought my entire park staff here,” he indicated to the other U.S. Park Rangers, all in matching jackets. “Team building, you know.”

Alpha Ruiz nodded. Yes, teams were important.

“It can be tough, being in charge. You want them to like you as much as fear you, huh?” Paul continued.

Alpha Ruiz nodded again. “Yeah,” he allowed himself a friendly smile at that.

And then it hit him. “The Valentine,” Alpha Ruiz blurted.

Paul’s eyes rose.

It had been a welcome surprise. Though he hadn’t immediately connected who it was from. The Alpha could still see the inscription under the dancing beagle and the yellow bird thing:

”Happy V-Day. Thought I’d take a chance. It was great to share our yoga class together. Maybe it would be great to share a drink together? Let me know? 555-468-2327.—P.”

“You need to sign your whole name next time, Ranger Paul,” Alpha Ruiz tut-tutted. “I thought it might be our Pilates instructor Patty.

“Poor Patty,” Paul smiled, looking a little sheepish.

Alpha Ruiz felt flattered. This human was cute. The Alpha was a little thrilled he already owned him. Like finding twenty bucks in your pocket you hadn’t expected.

The second-period buzzer gave an echoey ring through the concourse. One among the human’s pack urged him they needed to return to their seats.

“Gotta go,” Paul turned and gave an urgent shrug. “Gonna see you around the gym then?”

“And for a drink?” Alpha Ruiz replied back. He was surprised at how cute he was finding this human.

Paul blinked. It was obvious he was not expecting that. “Yeah!” he nodded. He looked back at his group. “Can I get your digits real quick?”

The Alpha gave the human his number. The human gave him some more effusive thanks. Humans are so cute when they’re giddy! And then the ranger was gone, back into the arena with his green flock.

Carlos, Carlos, what are you getting yourself into? The Alpha asked himself as he retraced his steps down the concourse. He still missed Hakim. Heck, he still loved Hakim. But the intensity of their mating had faded upon Alpha Ruiz’s attainment of alphahood. The two callings could just not co-exist, and so the love of pack won out. Alpha Ruiz would always pine for Hakim, he was sure, and the warlock wolf’s fate of eternal wolfhood in the national park was painful to contemplate. But it was just that. Pining and pain, not life shattering grief over the loss.

But a human? Alpha Ruiz gave a bemused grin. It wasn’t unheard of. Wolves, just like warlocks and vamps, could keep familiars. His very own Yousef had a familiar dog, Frank, right? So it was worth exploring.

But his pack… Alpha Ruiz hesitated. They needed him. They depended upon him. And he loved the knuckleheads, and their dedication, each of their personalities, and their sweet sweet holes. The pack would always come first, Alpha Ruiz asserted to himself.

But he deserved a little freedom, a little fun…

Still… just to make sure…

Alpha Ruiz took out his phone.

What’s your birth date?

Paul blinked, looking at the text of Carlo’s message.

July 2nd

A little early to be marking things like that on the calendar, but Paul still felt a zing. The guy was interested!

What year?

A little forward.

Why? You have an age max? LoL

Tell me, pup

Paul felt another zing. He wasn’t really into the puppy play scene. But that kind of terminology hinted at the guy on the other end of this text chat being at least a little dominant. It had been a while, but Paul enjoyed that in a lover. It was nice to let go and be submissive after a day of being a professional manager. He’d never done anything hardcore like chastity locks or other gear, but ‘yes sir’ was a thrilling phrase to speak sometimes. The U.S. Park Ranger texted the year.

The screen indicated three periods for a little while, as the recipient wrote a response. Finally, after a far-more-excruciating time period that Paul had anticipated, the response came back.

Thanks, pup

We got a Shakespeare here, Paul sighed to himself. Still, he tried not to read too much into simple text messaging. Tone was so easy to misconstrue. He’d had to give warnings to his own ranger staff about that, and the dangerous use of emojis in FOIA-accessible emails and texts on government phones. And Carlos was so fit, so massive, Paul was willing to forgive a lot at first. He sighed, imaging the man on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. Made for a nice fantasy.

But a drink first, Paul promised himself.

The second period game buzzer sounded. The second period started. Paul went back to his team building exercise with the park service. The human would figure out a new hook to draw in that giant, cute, pile of muscle Carlos soon enough. Besides, these Timber Bears were pretty damn good.

So… not a mondjugen, Alpha Ruiz double checked on the PackApp app. Incredibly useful, the wolf thought as he closed it. How’d we ever get by without it?

So Paul must want to become a familiar, get glamoured, the whole bit. The pack could use every hand it could get, Alpha Ruiz nodded to himself, still walking. And it would be fun to have a human toy. It wasn’t the human’s fault he was just a man. Maybe they could find a good use for him…

He was rounding the corner into the pack’s section entrance when his phone dinged.

The Alpha looked at his glowing screen, expecting another flirty message from the auditioning familiar. Instead, his face fell.

“Shit…” the Alpha picked up his pace, barrelling past the usher who was trying to close the black curtains to the section entrance. “Shit shit shit…”

Father Ray had tried to keep the glass covered up, tried to protect himself…

“Uhn!” the priest grunted then. He almost lost his footing. There was a gurgle and a crack. Father Ray felt him shoulders jerk. He shrugged his arms, and they decidedly did not come all the way back down. Ray felt one pant leg get tighter at the thigh, and then the other. His clerical collar constricted suddenly and then popped open. “Fuck… Fuck… fuck…” Father Ray panted, still looking up at the windows where the beautified and the beastly dwelled.

“You, too?” a gravely voice called from behind him.

Father Ray looked back at the pews. Mo was in the center aisle, gripping one of the pew side panels for balance. The side seam of his pants had split at the thigh on both sides. The buttons on his button-up were seriously strained, the top three giving up and popping out, making way for the absolutely blooming pecs the older man had absolutely not walked into St. Mike’s with.

Mo’s neck twitched, right in front of Father Ray, and the vistor’s neck… widened. Grew thicker. Some fabric someplace on the man made a ripping sound.

“I… thought it was only me. I thought I was going crazy,” Mo lamented, his graveling voice deeper, out of concern but also as his vocal cords changed. The man gripped the pew more tightly, stretching and working out the tension in his arms, as much as trying to steady himself. “Ray… Father Ray… what is happening to us?” he asked, fear on his face.

Lightning flashed again, and for an instant, pools of yellow light cast down into the church, directly upon the two mondjugen.

Ray looked up. He gasped. Mo followed his line of sight.

The lancet windows had the same dimensions, the same lighting, the same subjects. But Father Ray would have sworn on the Bible that the two saints had been depicted in heavy floor length robes and toga raps. Now, each servant God, in the bloom of youth, was in a white tunic, legs bare past the knee, the better to depict their full, well-turned calves.

Mo marvelled at the sight. Just as he and the priest were growing, the men in the windows were also more muscular, their new athleticism strongly hinted at beneath thin linen, and simple leather belts at the waist. The dull, lifeless eyes had turned alive, intrigued, looking not up at heaven but down, interested, at the accompanying beasts.

The wolves that had been depicted earlier as meek pets at their feet where now of a more powerful breed, their backs at waist height, their shoulders humped and powerful. They looked upon the men that shared the panes with them intently, but the glass and lead and light did not demonstrate adoration or submissiveness.

“Get out!” Father Ray panicked. “Get out!” He tried to run up the nave, to get to a fire door, a phone, anything. But then his cravings asserted themselves. His nostrils flared. “Give… give me the shirt!”

“No!” Mo shouted back and made for it. The two dove and fell into a tumble on the floor, fighting for the fabric.

“Let go!” the priests snarled. A real snarl. One that should have freaked him out, but the shirt, the smell, the feelings it gave him were of paramount importance. He swung a punch.

Mo ducked it and put his experience with wrestling to good use. “No!” he snarled back. “It’s mine!” His gravelly voice echoed across the nave.

“You know, we should get a temp to stuff the goodie bags,” Bill said, finally putting his phone down. The to-do list was full. The players zoomed in front of them, their silent soaring punctuated by gut-vibrating booms when they struck the walls. The warlock wolf took a sip of his beer. “We can afford it now.”

Yousef looked forward at the game but gave an uncertain nod. The players zig zagged in front of him. “I just get a little nervous. We just went all in the on the team sponsorships,” he said, sipping his own beer. He looked over at Bill, starting in more emphatically, “And the viral video ad money may run out. We’ve been lucky so far. But there’s always another trainer waiting in the wings, ready to get slurp up our traffic.”

Bill mock-gasped. “We could work it into the HIIT class routines, bro! Get them to stuff the bags!” He grinned.

Yousef gave a grin. “Yeah, right between their intervals. I like it!” They both took another sib from their Timber Bear branded cups.

A timeout was called then, and the arena’s Kiss-Cam came on. Couple after couple came on the jumbotron, looking up, then smiling, then smooching. After four couples, the camera flipped to Larry and Liz, sitting next to each other.

“Fuck no!” Liz laughed. Up on the jumbotron, the crowd saw her theatrically put her finger into her mouth, pointing her thumb at her neighbor, while the crowd laughed.

“Mama didn’t raise y’all to talk like that,” Larry chided.

“Shut it!” Liz chided. Then, the Kiss-Cam still on her, she lunged over Larry’s lap, grabbing for Yousef’s manly muzzle, and gave the surprised wolf a smooch.

The audience cheered.

“Lover boy,” Bill nudged his companion. Up on the Jumbotron, the giant Yousef gave an embarrassed grin.

“Fine, fine, we’ll hire a temp for the goodie bags,” Yousef said as playing resumed. “Just so long as we keep checking birthdates too. Gotta be safe.”

Bill paused. He remembered something. “Yousef… about that…”

“What?”

“I gave one to your dad.”

“What?” Yousef jerked over to look at Bill.

“He came back today.”

Yousef was speechless.

“He’s upset, Yousef. He doesn’t understand why you’re cutting him off.” Bill looked sheepish. “I said you were busy. Said that building up the gym was important to you… I gave him one of the bags. It felt…” Bill searched for the words. “Yousef, I wanted him to be proud of you. What you’re building. What we’re building.” Yousef looked down, running his hands across his face. “I don’t want him to know… about all this,” the wolf sighed, the ‘this’ needing no further elaboration.

“You don’t have to be ashamed,” Bill asserted.

“I’m not,” the muscular Arab wolf replied, a hint of a growl in his voice. “But… it’s dangerous. My dad… he’s protective of me, of my family. And he wouldn’t understand.”

“But you can’t just ice him out,” the littler muscle wolf Bill replied. They both looked out at the game. The puck darted across the ice as the Timber Bears’ winger hounded Wildcats defenseman like a shadow, bumping him along the boards with relentless hits and jabbing at the puck. The Wildcat finally broke free, spinning sharply to evade the bear, but as soon as he crossed the blue line, the instigator was there again, stealing the puck with a perfectly timed stick lift.

Tom, to Bill’s left, leaned forward, grinning. “He’s like a dog with a bone,” he marvelled. “Amazing players all around.”

“Yeah,” Bill nodded. “Oakley’s done a good job building the team.”

Yousef just starred out at the field.

“Don’t blame your dad for caring about you, bro,” Tom leaned over, whispering at Yousef. “He’s just doing what a father does.”

“I know,” Yousef whispered. It was all so Luna-damned hard. Maybe the goodie bag would sate him. Show him his boy was making something of himself. Besides all those videos online. And Yousef did want to make his father proud. What son didn’t?

He’d figure out a way to get back with this dad. Someday soon. Virtually at first? Maybe he could call his baba once the human was safely back in L.A.

Yousef blinked. It was accurate, but it felt thinking of his own father as a human, as something different. They were still the same flesh. Weren’t they? Howling Hell, who the hell knew?

The goodie bag could be the conversation starter, Yousef focused. So what was the harm in Bill giving it to his dad? Not like Yousef’s dad was a mondjugen, anyways.

I mean, what are the odds? Yousef gave a short laugh.

The buzzer sounded for a time-out, and an advertisement came on the jumbotron. A professional, polished woman appeared and started into her spiel. “Cook, Retana, and Associates are proud to support of the Timber Bears. And we hope you’ll let us support you with your financial advising, tax filing, and…”

Tom looked up, quaking.

“My baby girl…” he breathed. She was a woman now. He did the math in his head. Hell, she’ll be thirty next year…

“Tom?” Bill looked over at his pack brother.

“Nothing,” Tom smiled, then grinned. Truly grinned. He was so Luna-damned proud of her.

And then their Alpha arrived.

One look and they were all on their feet. The Second spoke first. “What’s the threat, Alpha? Nando okay?” Larry was all business.

“Nando ain’t here. It’s Alpha Lorraine’s pack,” Alpha Ruiz was panting. He drew his second close. “They offed him.”

“No…” Larry whispered.

The two’s body language was enough to get the others on their feet and into their coats. The offing of an alpha was not frequent but was also not rare. And in these days, after pack rosters and territory lines were still fresh, why should it be surprising when this or that wolf took a chance?

“Who gave the alert?” Tom called from the other end of the aisle.

“Alpha Toddson,” Alpha Ruiz indicated from his phone. They all winced. Their friendly neighbor in the south. He’d done the pack dirty before. However, no Alpha would lie over something this grave.

“We all gotta protect the border,” Larry said as the pack headed up the arena stairs, dragging a concerned Liz behind him, weaving around people coming back with their second rounds of popcorn and beer. “No tell what will happen next, or if any refugees some our way.” Pack coups seldom stopped with just the Alpha. “Nando’s out there alone,” the Second fretted.

The pack moved wordlessly until they got to the parking garage. The line of cars was vacant of people, so Alpha Ruiz started stripping off his jersey right there. “Tom, you’re with me,” he ordered. “We’ll ditch the clothes here, and head out to the woods.” He eyed the trees that met the side of the parking garage, and the fields beyond. “The rest of you… Jesus, help me with this!” he yelped. The 3XL garment wouldn’t come off.

Some helpful hands and undignified wiggling got it off him without a tear.

Alpha Ruiz rose to his full height, bare chested and beautiful.

“All right, all right, jaws off the floor, pups,” he waived off the gawking pack (Liz had wisely already claimed shot gun while the getting was good). “Larry, you drive,” he tossed the keys at the other wolf. “Get the girl home, then bring the car back to Mountain Peaks. Start doing clockwise and counterclockwise patrols, all of you, and scent everything. I don’t care how fresh the last visit was. Hope you drank a lot of beer tonight!”

Tom shared a quick kiss with Larry and then followed his Alpha in stripping. Bill and Yousef gathered up the jerseys, clothes, and shoes. The Alpha and his second were fully nude then. Muscle upon muscle, the glory of wolven maleness. The Alpha came forward and clutched his seconds in his arms. They shared a deep kiss, tongues dueling. Larry was almost lifted up off the floor, just his toes still keeping him grounded as he moaned into his Alpha’s mouth.

Alpha Ruiz gave a final smack and moved his nude self back a step. “Take care of my pack,” the wolf ordered, and then fell to all fours, becoming full wolf. Tom too. Their tails and ears flared out, their backs jutted up, and their human voices gained a deeper timber. And off the two went on all fours, running towards the back entrance, down the slope of the parking garage.

“So much drama with y’all” Liz tried to lighten the mood when the rest of them piled into the Cherokee, the suspension complaining at their collective muscular bulk.

“Save it,” Larry said, and put the SUV in reverse.

The wind whipped by the front doors of St. Mike’s. The cold had gotten worse as night fell. It was still flurrying, and wafts of dry crystal wafted across the sidewalks and gathered at the bases of the bushes. All that was there was the wind.

Then the church doors burst open, and all hell broke loose.

Two men in ripped clothing tumbled out of the church doors, pulling with their hands and teeth at a shredded t-shirt.

“It’s mine!” Mo shouted. His shirt was half ripped off, all the buttons popped, and a newly muscular set of pecs, plump, round, amazing, were on display.

“No! No!” Father Ray shouted back, his shoulders widening visibly, jerk by visible jerk. “Give it to me!” He tugged at the nearly destroyed garment and tried to mash the fabric he’d gotten a hold of into his face.

“Unh!” Mo grunted too, desperately tearing at it. Both of them were desperate for more of the smell. Their fear and confusion were palpable. But this was an addition neither was yet equipped to handle.

The two played tug-o-war so strenuously, the garment tore completely, and the two found themselves on their respective asses on the church steps, chewing, sniffing, mashing the fabric into their faces.

When Mo had gotten his fix, he snapped back to it. He was almost shirtless, his sweaty muscles steaming liberally in the cold night. “What the fuck,” he whispered, instinctively trying to adjust himself. He got up to his feet. As he did so, he felt a pop and a twitch. His pecs both jerked and ballooned out a further size. Mo looking down at his chest. Wonder, horror, sheer amazement—the budding hairy flesh! He brought his large hands up to examine them. Mo had come into the church a fit man, for sure, but not this. Certainly not like this. The two mounds on his chest now no longer fit into his human hands. Menacing black chest hair, with a little of Mo’s sexy salt-and-pepper, burst through the gaps in his fingers, a healthy manly forest.

“The fuck!!!” Mo honest-to-God whimpered. Unthinking, he gripped at the torn t-shirt but then grunted. The scent was now too faint to give him any relief.

Father Ray was curled up in a ball, clutching his stomach in pain as his abs contracted and released, contracted and released, an eight—pack popping out. His clerical shirt was torn open on the back where his lats and traps had broken free. His priest collar was till popped open; any layman could tell his thick neck could never accommodate that again. He pressed the shirt rag to his face, huffing in deeply.

God… he lamented. Please God… The feeling was not unlike his old craving for alcohol. Only this one went deeper, was more smooth, flowing deep deep deep into his brain, until there was no spot where the scent ended and his own thoughts began. “Sweet Jesus…”

The two men looked across the stone stairs at each other. It was inexplicable, it was horrifying… and it felt amazing…

A vehicle’s headlights dazzled them then, driving up past the church, pulling an immediate and illegal U-ey, and parking right in front of them, two wheels on the sidewalk.

Mo was a Los Angelino and a bit of a car snob; even in his distress, he was incredulous that anyone was keeping that old a Cherokee on the road. But then the bottom of his mind dropped out.

The smell.

Fresh. Strong. Full.

The smell…

An incredibly muscular guy, brunette, wry smile, incredibly built, in a tight-fitting hockey jersey stepped out of the beat-up Jeep. His smell…

“Oh God…” Father Ray panted to Mo’s left.

The man looked up at Mo and his companion, incredulously at first, but then his mouth moved into a smile, like the Grinch inspired to steal Christmas. “I see y’all are in need something. Something warm,” he called.

Mo nodded, shifting from one foot to another, dazed. He heard another pop in his body someplace, and felt his shoes get instantly slightly tighter. His toes scrunched up painfully. Al Allah… He just didn’t know what to make of this. The guy smelled so wonderful. It was easier to just float in that wonderment. Even from this distance…

“Y’all come on up here in the Jeep,” the man bid, waving his arms. The lifting of his arm released more of the wonderful, glorious smell. “Ain’t safe out here tonight.”

In a trance, Father Ray and Mo stumbled down the stairs and managed to come up close to the man.

On closer inspection, the man was an Adonis. Bulging round pecs, powerful arms, a primed and ready athlete. He smelled amazing. Not quite the same as the shredded t-shirt; it was a distinct musk, but there was a similar quality to it. The quality of being irresistible and mind-emptying. Mo struggled to make sense of it, but every time he tried to assert some kind of logic to climb out of this, the musk greased the ladder and caused him to slip further.

The man smiled as the men stared nervously into his chest. “Come on, pups. Gotta trust me,” he said in a friendly way, like a farmer coaxing a skittish lamb out of the brush. “Y’all come right this way.” He moved between the two of them, raised his arms up, and lowered them across their shoulders. His ripe sweaty armpits were inches from Mo’s and Father Ray’s noses. Point blank range.

Neither man was exactly touchy-feely and this guy was still a stranger, but for some reason they suddenly felt more comfortable. The sensation entered their minds so smoothly, the highest end of bourbon could not have done more damage. As he guided them into the Cherokee’s creaking back seat, the priest and the Muslim both blushed and grimaced as they tried to sit and accommodate their incredibly hard and unforgiving boners and their new and novel bulks.

“Now all y’all behave yourselves,” the driver turned, barking at them, his tone turning sharper. Mo and the priest both shivered and shrunk back. The man put the Jeep in drive, then gear shifted. “I just sent the rest of the pack out on patrol and dropped my sister off. Was gonna park the old girl, and then y’all two turn up. Good fresh mondjugen,” the driver sniffed the air appreciatively. “Good and poppered up too. Gott get you inside, keep you out of trouble until things cool down.”

The driver drove out onto the street and sped to the street corner. Unthinking, acting on instinct, Father Ray turn to look back at St. Mike’s. It had been his charge, his sanctuary. And then he recoiled.

The two lancet windows were illuminated from the nave within. On either side of the rose window, they beamed out onto the city park. Two manly saints, in brown loincloths, their bare pecs bulging, their arms blooming, the artist a master of capturing male beauty in glass. And each gasping, enraptured saint petting, enamored, fawning upon with a large, very large, very very large grey wolf. The beasts equal to them in height, and yellow eyes beaming, hungry tongues wagging.

The snow whipped across the church steps and into the bitter night. All that remained were scraps of the t-shirt, the winking wolf character’s eyes visible on one swatch. The Cherokee’s red taillights shrunk and disappeared.

Yousef, Bill—Gents! Awesome game, huh?!?!? Our bears always come through. Caught the game highlights. You enjoy? We set on dates/location/time and social media coord. for launching M.P.G. sponsorship? Katie awaiting your confirmation. Go Timber Bears!—J. Oakley

Greetings, gents. Getting into the thick of things. Hope you enjoy the latest effort. If you have any kind of reaction (good, bad, questions, critiques), I’d greatly welcomed your feedback. It makes the writing infinitely more fun to hear people’s thoughts.

I’ve launched an IG (Mountain_Peaks_Gym) and BlueSky (Mountain-Peaks-Gym) to play with this world further. If you’re on those platforms, give me a follow?

Happy reading!

Bill dashed through the white pines. Every few stands, he’d couch, sniffing frantically, triangle ears perked.

Still nothing. Nada. The early March woods smelled like… well, woods. And car exhaust, and heavy sap. And ice. Lots of ice. Praise Luna! Bill shivered. It was as cold as a bitch out here!

This region of their territory held a lot of man-planted pine, reforestation efforts in the areas near the converging state routes. The long artificially straight corridors between the trees made patrolling for strangers easy but keeping one-self hidden hard.

The wolf gave another cautionary sniff. Nothing unfamiliar. He got up on his four legs again and dashed three stands over. Bill tried to keep it random. Three, then two, then four, then one, then two, and so on. The pack was still on high alert.

It was two weeks since Alpha Spencer had taken control of the eastern territory. There had been grand pronouncements about seeking peaceful existence with their neighbors, a new golden era without that awful Alpha Lorraine. Alpha Ruiz and several others had even met with the new Alpha along the borders, and things seemed blessedly steady with their neighbors, Praise Luna. But the Mountain Peaks Pack practiced ‘Trust, But Verify.’ Patrols were still heavy on their eastern border, in case any stragglers tried to escape or the rosy pictured shared by the new Alpha was not the whole truth.

It would be Alpha Ruiz’s call if they’d welcome a straggler in or send him home. Bill himself had once been a straggler.

The pack was one wolf down, Bill noted, since Alpha Pete’s departure (Bill just couldn’t bear to think of him without his honorific). However, a wolf claiming asylum could very well be the perpetrator of a failed assassination attempt himself, or a spy bent on collecting intel on the Mountain Peaks’ weaknesses.

It was a heavy time, Bill sighed. He was no stranger to internal and inter-pack strife.

On to another stand of trees. Larry had most recently scented these woods, Bill could tell.

A howl made his ears perk up. Interesting… Bill fell to the earth, nose working in overdrive, going as far as he dared. The state route, serving as the marker between the territories was within site. Bill found the wind to be favorable and took another whiff.

Amidst the car exhaust and burned rubber and oil slick, he got the scent. It was a wolf, no doubt. Not one Bill knew personally, but with the scrambling of packs and their loyalties this past summer, hardly surprising. Strong. Healthy. Bill sniffed. Virile. Maybe someday, he’ll scent me, Bill mused wickedly, feeling his hole pulse. The wolf loved being used as Alpha Pete’s hole when they traveled. Alpha Ruiz was more of a homebody, keeping his land and his pack close, Bill lamented. To each his own, but the playful missed being played with, and the prior happy-go-lucky days.

Why not? Bill thought. I’ll take a chance. Bill gave a howl back. Hello! it meant. The road traffic was loud enough, it served as a bit of a white noise machine. The howl wouldn’t travel far.

It traveled far enough. The wolf on the other side, barely in sight, howled back. A signal of welcome, a signal of ‘border,’ and a signal of ‘go no further.’ But it was given in a cheery white picket fence manner. Bill have back a few howls, as if the border were a white-picket-fence and the wolf was just gardening on the other side, trowel in hand. Bill have back a few howls, signaling a “right back at ya,” and giving the wolf equivalent of a fist bump. The other wolf signaled back ‘Thanks.’

Would that all border engagements were this easy.

“What’s your name?” Bill howled. He’d risk it.

But the other one, across the border, had gone back into the cold, cold woods.

Okay… Bill started onwards. It was nice to encounter someone friendly. He paused to piss against a stand of trees, as close to the state route as he dared. Maybe the scout on the otherwise would pick up his specific scent. He shivered again, holding on to that warm hope.

“So here I used a narrow lense,” Paul indicated at the shot of a bobcat, running through snow after a just-off-screen snow hare. “It really captures every whisker, huh?”

“Neat,” Alpha Ruiz nodded at the shared Zoom screen. What he did not say was how hungry all these pictures were making him.

Paul had shared a few of his wildlife shots during their three past dates, but a Smartphone screen just did not do them justice. He’d walked the guy through the process of downloading Zoom, and they’d set up an evening date after Paul’s shift at the National Park to go through some of the human’s favorites.

The U.S. Park Ranger clicked to the next image, revealing a elk buck, fully antlered and his mouth steaming as he called out his rut in a dewy fall field.

“Really proud of this one!” Paul beamed. He curled his toes in his stocking feet, hoping to get a good reaction.

Paul’s email alert blipped onto the screen. He tried to mask his annoyance. at the interruption. Another email from that damn Reddit poster. DonForWolves42 or whatever his real name was.

“Neat!” the man Paul knew as Carlos responded.

Paul had welcomed the curiosity at first, happy to receive some praise for his photography. But the dude from Reddit kept asking more questions about the wolf shots he took. The name of the national park wasn’t enough. The poster wanted more and more details. Coordinates, exact times, what he used for bait, on and on. When the guy asked, “do you happen to know their names?” Paul wrote him off as a crank. He’d replied with the National Park’s public affairs point of contact for further questions (sorry Herb… Paul had thought in his mind, thinking of his supervisee at the park’s central office) and the National Park Service’s http address on hunting permits

The emails kept coming. The insistent probing questions kept popping up. Paul hoped they’d peter out and filtered out his comments on Reddit. People online could be so strange.

Another email blipped on his screen. “One More Question” was in the title line.

I’m so sure, just one more question, Paul rolled his eyes. He closed his Outlook completely.

“Sorry about that,” he said to his Zoom screen. “Uh, work shit. “Unnnhhh, work shit,” he theatrically rolled his eyes. “You know how it is. So… next pic. A beaver!”

“Really neat!” Alpha Ruiz said on the other end, his stomach gurgling.

And without scent, it was getting stale. But he could see the human beaming with pride.

“Yeah, he’s giant sucker!” Paul gushed. “Took me three hours to get that close where he’d come out of the da—”

“Hey, you wanna come over?” Alpha Ruiz broke in. This little familiar was a chatterbox. The wolf really was taking a shining to the kid. But these scentless photos were a bit much. He’d scoped the pup out enough. Time to have some fun.

“Huh?” Paul got shaken out of his narrative. “Like to your place?” Paul felt a small thrill. The two had enjoyed some flirtatious dates, and a little handholding. But Carlos had not made any moves, and Paul didn’t want to rush things. The giant man was incredibly sweet and seemed like a keeper. So an invite over, impromptu, on a weeknight… hell yeah!

“Sí,” the speaker responded.

“Where you live, Carlos?” Paul asked, un-sharing his view, the creature he thought of as Carlos blooming out to cover the entire screen.

“Come to Mountain Peaks,” Alpha Ruiz smiled at the name. “I’ll be there.”

“Wait, you live at Mountain Peaks?” Paul asked, a little incredulous.

“Above the store,” Alpha Ruiz winked. “Come on over, pup. Dress warm. It’s cold out.” And then the call closed.

Paul got up, lamented his current state of dress: thick socks, boxers, and one of his Colorado State sweatshirts. Jesus, Paul, he chided himself. Way to frump it up!

The human went over to his closet to find some good jeans and a clean dress shirt. He got himself together and packed a small bag. Paul wasn’t exactly sure if this was going to be an overnight thing, but it didn’t hurt to grab a fresh pair of underwear and socks. He could do the morning pills, including his Prep, when he got home. Paul had already done a #2 before the call, so no need to clean out. A fresh bottle of poppers and some lube in a Ziplock, and the human was ready.

Boots and his coat were essentials. Jesus, it’s cold! Paul fretted as he padded out to his car. It was already dark, everything swaddled in snow and patches of black ice. But Paul felt warm inside. He still wasn’t sure of Carlos’s intentions, but it was nice to be wanted. It had been more than a little while.

Here’s to giving him something memorable, Paul thought as he revved the engine up and urged the heater to hurry.

Most of the pack dreaded front desk duty. The forced cheeriness, the annoying customer service complaints, the endless fight for who’s Spotify playlist got featured. But Bill enjoyed it. He was really proud of what he and Yousef were building with Mountain Peaks, and he was naturally a people person. Granted, these people were merely humans, but still, that was not their fault. Bill sometimes daydreamed he was like Sleepy Beauty or Snow White, the humans flocked adoringly around him like the woodland creatures in the old cartoons. He was getting his own yoga instructor certification and also led kickboxing. The male humans at the gym kept flocking to him. It was enjoyable.

Plus, in the wolf’s down time, the front desk’s semi-idleness afforded the warlock a chance to work on his spell formulation and casting. The forest animals made perfect test subjects

“Hey Brian,” he called at a sheepish-looking man rushing in. “Kickboxing started five minutes ago, bro.” It was Mandy’s night, not his, to instruct.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” the guy gave a disheveled sigh. He smelled like computer printer ink. Brian held out his fob.

“Fitness doesn’t just happen. You have to prioritize it!” Bill said, holding the scanner out to beep Brian in.

“Yeah, I wish!” Brian groused, and rushed off to the locker room, his winter coat open and flowing.

“Wish indeed,” Bill chuckled, and flicked his wrist, wishing the human a little motivation. A perk of being a member of Mountain Peaks, Bill liked to think, was getting a little help if you were nice to the staff. And Brian (along with being hot in a disheveled grad student sort of way) was nice.

A visible zap of yellow zoomed across the room and struck the human square in the rear. Brian jumped, faltered in his steps, rubbed his rear while he confusedly looked around, and then waived it off, heading into the locker room. He broke out into a smile. It just felt so good to be here.

The front door dinged, and Bill looked over. “Oh hey, Paul!” the wolf waved a tatted arm as the ranger came in, winter weather sneaking in behind him. It was horrifically cold that evening. Bill was in a coat at the front desk; even Mountain Peaks Gym’s mighty heaters often could not keep up with this weather.

Paul came in with just in a heavy coat, some jeans, and winter boots. No gym bag… Bill noted. And he could smell the poppers.

“Hey bro,” the U.S. Park Ranger shivered, red faced and shivering, swinging his arms, trying to keep warm. “Cold as a bitch out there,” he lamented, on the verge of shivering.

“First door on your left and up the stairs,” Bill pointed.

“Oh… uh, thanks,” Paul said. He looked weirded out a bit that Bill knew where he was going. It wasn’t exactly everybody’s business, you know….

“He’s up there waiting,” Bill indicated the human should get going.

Paul thanked him and headed over. He found the door—had this door already been here?—unlocked. He opened it and started in. As the U.S. Park Ranger did so, he felt a weird, well, a weird shock on his rear. The man spun around, reflexively batting at the perceived poke.

Over at the front desk, Bill could be seen looking away, reading a New Yorker, the dandy on the cover performing his perpetual examination of the butterfly.

Weird, Paul arched an eyebrow, looking around more. His teeth gave a chatter. Oh, to hell with this! Paul turned and started up the stairs. He just wanted to get into Carlos’s arms and warm up. The door swung shut behind him.

The wolf downstairs smiled. He was especially proud of that spell, having perfected it since the first, disastrous (later, admittedly convenient) use on the busboy Daniel back at the diner south of the national park. Associating it with Alpha Ruiz’s gift would control the thing and keep the U.S. Forest Ranger close.

Have fun, horny Paul, the warlock wolf mused. It shouldn’t take long.

Alpha Ruiz was getting some mineral waters out of his fridge when he smelt the human. The wolf smiled. It was gonna be so nice to just lair up.

The knock came at the door.

“It’s open!” the Alpha called out from across his efficiency.

The handle turned and the battered metal door squealed a bit on its hinges. “Sorry,” the human Paul peeked in. “The doors aren’t marked. I’m looking for—oh, hey Carlos!”

Alpha Ruiz smiled back. Alpha Peaks Gym always seemed to be a giant maze and yet led one right where one needed to go. “Come on in, pup,” he called from the kitchenette.

“Thanks,” Paul came in, giving a theatrical shudder. “Cold as a bitch outside!” the human repeated his line, as they were prone to do. The Alpha could smell the ice in his hair, the road salt on his boots, and the man’s body odor, both in his clothes and on his skin as they were revealed.

The Alpha came over from the kitchenette, bringing the water, while Paul looked about the place. Alpha Ruiz kept things simple: a black futon on a black wire frame, a mish mash of throws and two pillow cases Bill had made him. Coffee table that also served as his food table (when he elected to eat in the form of a human), with some protein shake bottles on top. On the other side of the room, a flat screen tv bolted to the wall, and a small bookshelf for the odds and ends, including lube, some black leather garments and gear folded, a sliver ring on top, like from a bull’s nose. The windows featured just basic Venetian blinds. The room had no other adornment to speak of.

“Sorry,” Alpha Ruiz could feel Paul judging him. He turned off the main lights, leaving just a side lamp and the light from the open bathroom door to light the place. “Bachelor pad,” he shrugged sheepishly. “Just moved in, and it’s been a bit busy… with work,” he added at the end.

“I get it,” Paul replied. “No worries.”

“I am worried. Worried you’re gonna freeze to death,” the Alpha said in a playful manner. He came over, giving Paul a bear hug. “You’re cold, chico!” He hugged the human tighter.

“I know,” Paul said. The room was warm, thankfully, and Carlos’s body even warmer. The freeze lingered around his feet; the boots had not yet thawed.

“You want something besides water? Hot tea? I got a hot plate,” the larger being led Paul to the futon.

“Sorry to be a bother, but yes,” Paul replied, sitting to unlace his boots. Hot tea sounded good. He set to removing the boots and getting them by the door before the ice melted too much while the Alpha set up the kettle.

“Want me to log in to my iCloud?” Paul called over from the futon, in his stocking feet. “Pick up where we left off?”

“You’re still too over dressed, chico,” Alpha Ruiz called back. Modest little human.

The human chuckled a bit. “Okay, bro…” And he was silent, save the sound of fabric rustling. “Okay, bro…”

Carlos could hear the sound of fabric rustling. Then the wolf could smell the human’s giant bare feet. Good little human.

When the giant muscled wolf came over with some mismatched mugs, Paul was in his boxer briefs and undershirt. He’d pulled on a throw over his shoulders. Winter’s chill lingered. “Thanks,” the human breathed gratefully, taking the hot coffee mug, savoring the heat in his hands.

“De nada,” Alpha Ruiz met like with like, and stripped off his shirt and jeans, revealing just his red checkered boxers. “Come here,” he got down onto the complaining futon, and wrapped the blanket around them both. “Tell me more about your photos.”

The two cuddled, enjoying each other’s body heat. A ruffled grouse came on the screen, and Paul chattered away proudly, while the Alpha started licking and sniffing at the human’s neck and collarbone.

It was a slow night. The weather was awful. So slow there was barely any smell outside at all. Bill tore open one of the unsold ‘Mountain Peaks’ branded hoodies from its plastic bag, and donned it, eager to keep warm. He yearned for his fur coat.

As the last half hour of operating time drug on, the wolf checked the numbers; they only had about five members left in the building. He had half a mind to shoo them all home and close early. He eyed the clock. Eh… just thirty more minutes till closing. Let them finish up.

And then the bell rang.

Bill looked up. Nando came in, shutting the door behind him. “Ay! Fucking cold as a bitch outside!” the wolf fretted, stomping his boots on the welcome mat.

“I’ve heard,” Bill said, and went back to his magazine. “Watch your mouth in here.”

“Fuck off,” the other wolf said. The cold had made him grouchy. He went to go hang up his coat in the manager’s office. “Where’s Alpha?” he asked as he came back out.

“Upstairs,” Bill didn’t look up. “He’s got company,” he called, when Nando moved to go to the door. “Said not to bother him.”

“The pet ranger?” Nando looked disappointed.

“Yep,” Bill said. He wished Nando would leave.

“Que loco,” Nando spat. “What a waste. Those sexy feet… And I saw him first!” he lamented. But there was nothing Nando could say or do. Anything of his was Alpha Ruiz’s.

Bill could tell from his pack brother’s scent that the wolf had not even been scented by his Alpha in a while. Bill sniffed again. Wow! Three whole days!”…

“Go get Larry to plough you,” Bill pretended to be engrossed in the ‘Talk of the Town.’ “If you’re feeling antsy.”

“Not the same, bro, and you know it,” Nando was cranky. “I shouldn’t have to beg for it,” he fretted. “Or settle for second best from the Second.”

“So sex it up next time he’s near,” Bill shrugged. “That’s what I do.”

“That’s all you do, Bill,” Nando groused. He moved out from behind the desk, knocking over some of the office supplies as he passed, including the small 4x6 of Yousef and Bill cutting the present location’s ribbon.

“So go… whine about it to someone else,” Bill said back, his eyes narrowing. He purposefully did not look up.

“Heh,” Nando looked up at his pack brother. “Hell, if the pack mattress can’t keep our Alpha interested, ain’t no hope for the rest of us at all.” He headed back into the gym.

Bill slammed the magazine down, got up, and followed the wolf. A small shimmer lit up the counter, and a white flame appeared, waving and flickering into a more stable opaque sign. It read “Front Desk on Break; Ring Bell for Service.”

The wolf stalked into the gym’s labyrinth. The complex was so big and ever-changing that even Bill still marveled at it. Barb did some amazing work. Yousef had asked about how it worked (the social media followers were fascinated by all the different and seemingly contradictory rooms and equipment, and the discrepancies on just how many pools, machines, and studios there were. But Barb has just winked (“the better to keep you wolves up there and not in my town,” she’d said) and inquired about Bill’s homework on spells and hexes and the like.

How many rooms are there in the facility? “More than enough,” Bill would answer. “What are your training goals?” The woodland creatures were always so ready to gush. It was endearing.

A few sniffs, and Bill knew Nando was near. He found the wolf in one of the free weight rooms, doing bicep curls against the floor length mirror.

Nando raised his eyebrows as Bill arrived, staring at him via the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

“Hey bro,” he offered, breathing out as he raised the 45 pounder.

Bill walked right up in front of him, getting between Nando and his reflection. “I don’t appreciate your smartass mouth, ass hold. Keep your thoughts to yourself when I’m working here.”

“I don’t take orders from the runt,” Nando spat back.

The forty-fives thunked to the floor as Bill shoved his pack brother.

“Mother fucker!” Nando shouted, almost tripping over the weights. He got into a crouch. “Did I hit a nerve?” he taunted.

“Get out!” Bill snapped back. He snarled, a loud, unedited one.

Nando roared back. In the process, his snout jutted out, and his skin exploded in fur.

Okay, so we’re doing this. Fuck yes! Bill nodded. He fell to all fours and started pacing around Nando as his claws and jagged teeth grew in.

Two incline benches went flying. The rack of E-Z bars toppled. Growls and whines and barks and yips echoed throughout the room, and into the hall.

It was coming to blows. And then, the two went flying. “Enough!” a large wolf was now in between the two. Both had been so focused on butchering the other, they hadn’t picked up on Larry’s scent approaching.

The wolves were in a frenzy now, and it truly took a lot of Larry’s strength and agility to get a hold of them; Bill by the scruff of his neck, and Nando held down to the ground by the Second’s rear paw.

Above them, Larry’s tail trashed angrily.

“Stand down, y’all runts!” Larry flung Bill across the room, skidding into a pile of dumbbells. He kicked Nando with his rear paw, so the two quarreling brothers ended up further away in the chaotic room.

“Fucker started it!” Nando whined from his heap, his ears down.

“Not so big now, huh, Nando?” Bill shouted from the other end. He sought to get up but exhibited a limp.

“Silence!” Larry asserted. “Jesus Christ… Stand down! Or…” he lowered his tone, “I’ll cast you into the national park myself.”

Bill and Nando both shuddered. Eternal mindless wolfhood, for the rest of their days. Poor Seth, Poor Pete, Poor Zach, Poor Hakim…

“Just tell him to get out of my face!” Bill blurted.

“Stand down!” Larry growled, and kicked aside a bench press, showing amazing strength.

The two wolves were silent then, the room hosting the sounds only of their collective breaths, and the far-off sounds of Bill’s ‘Mountain Peaks’ Spotify playlist.

“You each need a scenting,” Larry asserted. He stalked over to Nando and took a hold of him by the scruff. “Calm you idiots down, bring you to heel,” the wolf muttered.

Bill surveyed the room in dismay. All the equipment knocked over. The floor padding torn up. Kettle balls and medicine balls scattered like marbles.

“Close up the gym for the night,” Larry said, his voice muffled as he drug a semi-compliant Nando off into the hall. They moved in wolf form, without fear. They’d found the halls and stairwells of the gym would lead away any human patrons. Mountain Peaks was very accommodating that way.

“This’ll be remembered,” Nando called, before he wailed in dismay as Larry batted his snout hard.

“Shut it, runt,” Larry barked. He opened his mouth quick and bit again, gaining a better hold.

And then they were gone.

This’ll be remembered… the words rang in Bill’s ear. And he nodded. The warlock wolf agreed.

The wolf moved back to human form, muscley, powerful. He snagged a jock from the laundry cart in the hall to ensure a bit of modesty as he repaired the room and nursed his pride. Bill tried to be cheerful about it; re-racking the weights and putting the balls back on their shelves was a mini-arm workout. The warlock in him never really was one for levitation.

This dude’s an amazing kisser, Paul marveled. Carlos (for he still thought of the Alpha by his first name, being an ignorant human) had a devilish and assertive tongue. It was thick and pulled no punches, now completely in the U.S. Park Ranger’s mouth.

Paul moaned, sucking on it as hard as he could, his own lips literally stretching to accommodate the living thing invading his gullet. The U.S. Park Ranger had tried to go through more of the wildlife photos, but after a few minutes, it was clear that Carlos had his mind of other matters. Paul didn’t complain. The human was in heaven. All thought of ‘taking it slow’ went out the window. Indeed, the U.S. Park Ranger was moaning like a creature quite spoiled. It felt so God-damned good to be just flat out mauled like this. The two made out in their underwear and t-shirts without words.

They’d done some light petting for a while, in between sips of tea and then beers. “Tell me more,” Carlos had bid as he continued to lick, nibble, and kiss the human.

Paul enjoyed the attention. Finally, after an hour or so, he begged relief to go to the bathroom. Carlos nodded and asked him to bring some bottled water on the way back.

Paul shook his head at himself when he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Flushed face, mussed up hair, grinning like an idiot. Lips swollen from use. Careful, buddy, he cautioned himself. This one’s a keeper. Don’t go crazy like it’s just some hookup. Paul loved sex, but this guy…. He… he thought back to Carlos. A bit quiet, a bit stoic (maybe because he was ESL?), but so kind, so genuine, so physical. Paul hoped, truly hoped, it would turn into something more.

Jesus, he was horny…

Grinning like an fool certainly wasn’t helping. He, he winked at himself in the mirror. Paul just had not felt this aroused in so long. So aroused that he needed to sit on the toilet and angle his cock down to pee; his erection was that hard.

After Paul washed his hands and opened the door, he started. Carlos was now lying on the still folded-upwards futon, treating it like a chez lounge. The man (for Paul still thought he was a man) was nude—amazing, pumped, olive skin across voluminous mountains and ridges and valleys, with a darker crotch thatched with black pubes. The most muscular man Paul had ever seen, either in photos or real life (AI pics… those were another story).

“Come climb up in here, pup,” Carlos beckoned him over.

Paul complied, climbing. That cock…

“Something wrong?” Carlos asked.

That cock…

“Come on,” Carlos bid, putting his hand around it.

One could spend an adult lifetime reading erotica about ‘beer-can thick’ cocks online, but to see one in person was another thing entirely. Paul’s eyes widened at its size, girth, and length.

“Come on,” Carlos bid again, slightly louder.

Paul’s pelvis did the thinking for him. The human climbed up onto the futon, his own dick painfully straining in the boxers, and then into Carlos’s arms. The human felt a little zing at complying. as he was folded in. The U.S. Park Ranger soon found himself wrapped up in the larger man’s arms and legs, the giant maleness between them running up from Paul’s crotch to his sternum, pulsing, hot, thick, smelling of male.

And then the human was just feasted upon.

Carlos aggressively kissed him. Paul gasped as the kissing progressed to licking. Long wet passes across his gasping face. Across his tongue, over his forehead, tracing his cheekbones and jaw line. Okay… Dude’s got a tongue thing, Paul noted, and then gasped as the wet rough muscle slathered all across his entire face, from cheekbone to cheekbone, across his nose.

Paul made to wipe his face off but found Carlos holding his hands down. Mmmm… the larger man moaned deeply.

Paul enjoyed being devoured for the next fifteen minutes until his entire face was wet, sopping wet, and smelled of Carlos. Paul’s hands were then finally free, as Carlos ran his strong arms across the human’s back.

Paul enjoyed the rub but grunted in protest when he felt the sudden and purposeful rip. “Hey!” he said, as Carlos ripped the back of his undershirt open.

He grunted again as a hand suddenly grabbed his jaw and held his head still. Paul sputtered a bit, but the hand held firm. Carlos brought Paul’s face close to his own. The human had no choice but to watch as Carlos brought a finger to his lips, indicating he should be silent.

Paul would have nodded, but Carlos’s hand held firm. He wasn’t used to this, this level of dominance. This… Paul was scared. He shuddered over his entire body, surprised at just how much it thrilled him.

The human had always suspected it was all just play-acting, dom-sub play. Something for leather meetups and in staged stuff online. But here was an actual dominant man, and Paul felt himself wanting this, each action of control met with a yearning for more.

“The boxers,” Carlos whispered.

Paul and he looked back at each other. Carlos let go of Paul’s jaw, and the human remained still. Very still.

“The boxers,” Carlos said again. Paul remained still and. And then nodded.

The other man smiled. Hands flew down. There was a violent rip.

Paul grunted and gasped in advertently, his own cock and body throbbing as he was suddenly naked, the underwear now just a couple swatches of red plaid.

“Nice,” Carlos whispered. He brought one of the scraps up to his face and sniffed in deeply. He sniffed again, speaking slowly through the fabric. “You smell so go—” sniff “—so good, pup.”

Paul gave a short laugh as he sighed. This guy was so unexpectedly kinky. But also had a way of putting him at ease.

The larger being below cast the fabric to the floor, and his hands went downwards again. Paul leaned his face into Carlos’s chest and collarbones, moaning as he found his hole now receiving attention. The man below him was not just kinky. He was a Master, expertly prying at and playing with Paul’s anus. Like a pianist tickling the ivories.

Paul mewled and grunted as fingers entered him. Two… three… Christ—four? “Oh my God…” Paul gave a grateful lament. He was so open. And then he felt the poke.

Paul looked up. Carlos stared at him intently. More intently than any lover Paul had ever encountered.

“Sit on it, pup,” Carlos whispered.

There was no choice but to comply. There was nothing in Paul’s mind now but horniness. No other option entered Paul’s mind. The human stopped clutching the dom and gathered his wits enough to rear up and get into a kneeling positing. He licked his hand, taking time to give a saucy wink, and reached back, finding Carlos’s thickness. Both he and Carlos moaned as he gripped it, ensuring the needed slickness.

If Paul had his faculties together, he’d have leveraged the lube and poppers. But he didn’t have his faculties and would probably struggle to ever find them again.

The U.S. Park Ranger got up on his haunches. The man below smiled, appreciating his tight chest and tummy, a true find, an amazing specimen. The wolf’s nostrils flared. He was going to enjoy taking this one. Together, they positioned the cock, and Paul sank down into heaven.

He was so full now. So very full. The human grunted, gasping without shame. Paul was so stretched out. All the usual sensations of pressure and fullness came, but there was also a more powerful sensation. Of Righteousness. This was right. This was what Paul needed. This was what Paul was for.

The human reveled in it. On and on, the tightness went in deep. So deep. So very deep. It was when Carlos bottomed out and the human’s sensitive rear felt the scratch of his pubes and another switch clicked on in the bottom’s brain.

Serve. Serve him.

Paul started bouncing on Carlos’s member, eager to give back.

The human lost track of time. Lost track of the number of positions. Lost track of the yelps he gave as the dom stabbed into his insides, over and over.

Carlos was a generous top, changing the rhythm and aim frequently. Paul considered himself an experienced bottom, but this was another level.

It progressed until Paul reached near exhaustion. He found himself on top of Carlos once more. The top urged him into a crab position. Paul performed the maneuver, now leaning back, on all fours, lowering himself up and down on the still erect, inexhaustible penis. His own bobbed up and down like a metronome, flopping about lewdly in Carlo’s face in its hardness. His face exhibited true exhaustion, surrender.

Carlos observed this, and the human’s scent, so so tired and so so ready for the next step. The wolf looked up from his position on his back, staring at the penis. “Make it dance, pup,” he said deeply.

It had to be past midnight by now, Paul marveled. He’s lost all sense of the hour. He grinned at the stage direction and worked on putting on a show. Paul’s groans came extra loud, his hips bobbed and shook and swayed with exaggeration. The U.S. Park Ranger was rewarded with Carlos’s blinks and jerks of his jaw and neck. At certain point, it was all too much for Paul to take in, so he threw his head back and closed his eyes, focused on just bring a good ass for Carlos to fuck.

“Human,” Carlos reached up, slapping him back into focus.

Paul looked down, feeling something hard now encircling his cock. Carlos had produced a metal cock ring, silver, large, still cold. It was around Paul’s cock like a ring toss in a carnival game, his balls still swinging free. His mind lingered on ‘human’ for second, but the man could not focus.

“I’m so proud of you, pup,” Carlos breathed. And then, he worked Paul’s balls up into the increasingly crowded ring. One of them popped up past the band without issue.

“What?” Paul asked. He felt… he felt something. “I’m not into…” he tried to speak.

The finger went up again. Carlos shushed him. “Watch, pup.”

Paul looked intently as Carlos worked his fingers, pushing Paul’s remaining ball up from below. The testicle was squeezed, Paul gave a small yelp, and it finally popped through the ring, his. The skin was red, stretched, veiny, visibly throbbing. Paul’s entire manhood now stretched, exposed, red. encircled.

Paul gasped. He felt a zing. He felt a zing! He started breathing hard, Carlos’s hands cupping and caressing his cock and balls. The zing never stopped…

“All right, Mountain Peaks Pack!” Yousef said with a smile from the incline bench. Tom leaned in with the Smartphone, the ring light at his side. “Let’s focus on building that upper chest with incline pec flies!” the hot Arab wolf gave his delivery the right emphasis. He’d been improving a lot with the delivery.

The gym wasn’t full of the early crowd yet, and he’d wanted to take advantage of the morning light. “Grab your dumbbells,” the wolf leaned forward in his perch to pick up the two fifty-fives. His tri’s, delt’s, and bi’s all exploded out of his Mountain Peaks tank as he brought them back up.

The wolf had a smile on his face; a real one. Yousef 1)teaching and helping make people fit. “Keep a slight bend in your elbows and move your arms in a wide arc—imagine hugging a big tree,” he smiled at the camera, his pecs pumping within the screen’s view, his chest cleavage dipping down below the scooped fabric of the tank. “…Until you feel a stretch across your chest,” he gave a quick sweeping indication with his chin. Tom and Katie could add the color-coding animation later. “Control the motion as you bring the dumbbells back together at the top, keeping your chest engaged the entire time—this is all about form, not speed! Mountain Peaks Mayhem!” he did another rep. “And… out!”

“Got it,” Tom tapped ‘record’ again. “That third take was definitely the best.”

“Howling Hell,” Yousef half sighed, half laughed. He was feeling super fatigued. Workout demonstrations looked so easy on Instagram, but the focus on form and the multiple takes (along with Tom’s jokes intended to make him laugh when he was trying to be so serious) really tuckered the gym owner out.

“Got another shot in you?” Tom asked, taking the glasses down from atop his head, He squinted as he scrolled through the Smartphone. “Could do simple push ups? Show form? Haven’t seen that done yet.”

“Simple. Accessible. I love it,” Yousef smiled. He was getting the hang of the social media angle. It was all a part of being a shark. Yousef’s dad would be so proud.

Yousef paused at the thought of him. He hated they’d parted on bad terms. The muscular gym owner hadn’t heard back from him these past two weeks. No more family call invites. No more texts. The whole effort just fell silent. It killed the Lebanese wolf, right in his heart. He’d been a dedicated and good son. Family had been everything. Back in L.A. Way back in Beirut. Back when he was human. They’d been his everything.

Which is why he had to protect them from this. All of this. The pack had almost perished twice this year, and now this assassination business to the east. Cutting off his human kin was the kindest thing Yousef could do.

Miss you, Dad, Yousef murmured to himself as he got down on all fours. He forced a smile on his face and then got into a push-up position.

“Ready, Yus?” Tom asked, positioning the Smartphone into a good clean shot. He wanted to ensure to capture Yousef’s pecs, arms, and back as he went through the motions. The fucker truly was a vision, Tom thought. Praise Luna, for bringing such beauty into the world.

“Yeah…” Yousef said, working out the script in his mind. They’d always tried to ensure the instructional videos were no more than twenty seconds, to get the TikTok and IG crowd. “Let me do one rehearsal…” he said, looking forward. The fitness trainer started in on his push-ups. “Hey Mountain Peaks Pack! Today, we’re gonna get back down to basics, and show the proper form for push—unh! Frank!”

Yousef fell to his left side, forearm on the ground, needing the other to fend off the aggressive licks of his German Shepherd. “Where’d you come from, boy? Huh? Where’d you come from?” Yousef asked, his voice falling into half-baby talk. Tom kept filming, smiling. It was obvious how much the wolf loved his pooch. They could use this as stock footage.

“Sorry, Yus,” Tom finally put down the Smartphone and rolled himself down onto the ground to join them. “Thought I closed the office door.”

“Frankie’s an escape artist,” Yousef kept his baby-talk tone, nuzzling his face against the panting dog’s. “Aren’t you boy? Huh? Aren’t you? You’re an escape artist.” The two wrestled a bit on the floor, and Tom smiled, kneeling at the side. He treasured Yousef and Frank’s transformations and their acceptance of Luna’s gifts. It was a beautiful thing.

Yousef’s phone rang in Tom’s hand. The gym owner eyed it on the phone next to them and blinked. “Shit, sorry, gotta take this one.”

“Sure,” Tom got up, grabbing a hold of Frank’s collar. “See you at the front desk?” He gave Yousef an arm up and the wolf sprung to his feet, phone in hand.

“Oakley!” Yousef tapped to answer, giving Tom a nod before he left. “Talk to me, bro!” he turned back to the phone. The L.A. style of business had stayed with Yousef on his migration to the mountains. He walked the phone over to one of the empty exercise studios and put it on video.

Oakley was at his desk in the arena’s offices, team pennants and frame team short on the wall behind them. “Yus! Cold as a bitch outside, huh?

“Yeah, I know!” Yousef exclaimed.

“We got the numbers for the cross-promotion,” Oakley said, in his shirtsleeves and tie. “Looking pretty good.” The team owner took his reading glasses off, looking pleased.

“Nice,” Yousef smiled. He really enjoyed their calls. Oakley shot from the hip; the sponsorship was an enjoyable one, as much colleagues as contractors. “We just shot three new vids. Gonna edit them and post before noon. Katie’s waiting to cross-post.”

Yousef and the production crew were getting into a good groove. Mornings were best for posting, to ensure maximum opportunities for reposting during lunch breaks, so the content could peak in time for bedtime doom-scrolling. Anything to get people into the gym the next morning, and to a hockey game the next weekend.

“Hey, when we getting the hockey players in here?” Yousef asked. They’d discussed a photoshoot, and several from the Timber Bears were already members.

“They get back from the away games tomorrow,” Oakley looked someplace off screen, squinting at an unseen calendar. “Sooo… Thursday?”

“Yes,” Yousef nodded. “Bout time.”

“I’ll come too, finally get a chance to see the place in person, brah,” Oakley nodded, giving a sheepish smile.

“Yeah,” Yousef smiled back. They’d not yet met in person. Zoom, email, and phones had worked so far; Oakley kept a pretty tight schedule with his self-named industries group and was on the road a lot. With the potential for tariffs, they’d stocked up on all manner of components over the autumn, Oakley had explained, and they were running triple shifts to work through the backlog. The different work sites took a lot of TLC.

The two chatted a bit more about the team sponsorship and the projected activities into March. They were both smiling the whole time. Yousef felt good; really, Oakley was a gentleman. The wolf had really lucked out on this partnership. “Hey, sorry,” Oakley was looking off screen again. “Gotta jump off this. My ex is pinging me.”

Yousef raised an eyebrow.

“The shysters are calling about some tenant crap with our old condo…” Oakley squinted at an unseen screen. The man sighed. “Never get married,” he gave wink at Yousef.

“Happy to jump off,” the wolf nodded. “Say hi to her from us here at Mountain Peaks.”

“Oh, actually ‘him,’” Oakley noted, still smiling.

“Apologies.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Oakley seemed in a jovial mood. “Brett and I had something good for awhile, but that while just didn’t last. He’s down in Fort Lauderdale now. We’re good now that we’re over a thousand miles apart,” the guy laughed. “Got a lot of joint property still.”

“Sorry the good didn’t last,” Yousef adjusted the phone. The guy had such cute dimples; he hadn’t noticed before.

“Eh,” Oakley waived it away. “Amicable. Shysters were mad we didn’t duke it out, so they could bill us longer. Besides,” he smiled back at Yousef through the screen. “Always a chance I’m going to find something better.” That wink again…

Oakley apologized that he really did have to go this time and signed off. Yousef felt himself grinning a bit too much. Calm down, boy, he cautioned himself. Don’t stick your prick in the payroll.

It did feel good to flirt though. The wolf smiled again and headed back out into the gym. If the old human Yousef could see him now… the wolf marveled. Surely, that small little human would be jealous of him now! Surely. There was no doubt at all in Yousef’s irrevocably and completely wolf-warped mind.

His nose twitched. The U.S. Park Ranger? Alpha Ruiz? It was a strange mixed scent of the two. Yousef looked curiously towards the front.

As he arrived to join Tom at the front desk, Paul was emerging from the door in the side hall. The human was in some track pants and a far-too-large T-shirt, obviously borrowed from Alpha Ruiz by the stink, under his own winter coat and boots.

The U.S. Park Ranger winced when he saw the two observe him. “Yeah, yeah,” he tried to laugh it off. “Walk of shame.”

“I’ll say,” Yousef nodded, smiling. Paul had been scented good and deep. Kid practically reeked. Yousef had to hide his smile. Any wolf within a mile of this human would be able to tell he’d been rutted by Alphan Ruiz multiple times.

“Let me slink out with my dignity,” Paul offered a small joke. Yousef nodded but cocked his head. Paul looked… different. Something about his eyes.

But no time to ponder it further. The human headed out the front door, blinding light from the ice-y day shining in.

“Another ass to manage,” Tom whispered, mostly to himself. He looked over Yousef and noticed a grin. A lingering, shining grin. “You’re…” Tom peered in, “you’re interested in someone.”

“Huh?” Yousef blinked himself out of it. “What, Paul? I mean, he’s nice and all, but that’s not for me,” the wolf shook his head no.

“No, before,” Tom asserted. “When you came up. You’re…” he paused for dramatic effect. “You’re into someone.”

“Never mind,” Yousef spoke louder. Tom dropped it, giving a smile of his own.

The two worked wordlessly for a few minutes, Tom folding the clean towels into rolls, Yousef checking gym patrons in and responding to some quick emails with vendors and the clothing sponsorships. Finally, the tension broke. “Tom…” Yousef said, as he logged out to the front desk consol.

“Yeah, pup?” Tom responded, turning from the towel bin.

“I’m not a pup.”

“You’ll always be my pup,” Tom gave him a pat on the rump. He remembered this wolf well during his triple baptism, his initial stirrings, his first everything.

“Sure…” Yousef sighed in satisfaction at the pat. He didn’t press the issue. “What’s it like… I mean… how do you know you’re mated?”

Tom was a bit surprised. “Someone in the pack?” he asked. He’d not smelled anything.

“No,” Yousef shook his head. “I mean, how did you and Larry know?”

“You just know, pup,” Tom leaned back on the front desk’s high office chair. He got a wistful look in his eyes. “The second Larry woke from his triple—”

“Wai, YOU turned him?” Yousef interrupted.

Tom looked over. “Yes.”

Yousef was quiet for a minute. “That’s hot,” he finally offered.

Tom’s nostrils flared. He could smell the younger wolf’s musk blooming.

“Yeah,” the larger wolf breathed. He looked back and forth. The front area was vacant besides them, and the early morning class attendees had already arrived. “Come on,” he directed, and the two wordlessly ducked into the gym’s small office. The lights went out at the same time the lock clicked shut. Tom’s own musk spilled out, flooding the room, as he flipped down the front of his gym shorts.

“Ohhhh yes!” Yousef panted worshipfully, gracefully coming down onto his knees and diving forward. And then his mouth was full.

“Oh pup…” Tom gasped in the dark, barely heard over the energetic smacking of wet lips, wet flesh, gulps, and gurgles. Pup was sooo Luna-damned good at this.

Yousef needed this. He’d been so horny lately. The busy work schedule with the gym, the social media accounts, and the patrols. He rolled his eyes in gratitude at the silhouette above him. It felt so good just to be a self-indulgent slut for a moment. Not that he was being totally selfish. The wolf perked his ears as he plunged his own throat with Tom’s thick head, picking up on what techniques elicited moans, sighs, grunts of pleasure.

The wolf above him grunted, and swayed his hips, keeping the dick a live thing, a moving target for Yousef’s mouth. A true deep throat poke was elusive. Yousef’s muscular throat strained and pulsed visibly. His nostrils flared the entire time. He drew in his pack brother’s scent. The wolf’s brain was alive with sensation.

It was a quick session. Mid-thrust, Youssef gave a wail as Tom pushed him back. “NO! More!” Yousef panted, feeling robbed. “More! Oh! Enhhhh! Enhhhhhhhhh!!” The wolf gasped in surprise as the angry red pole wagged in front of him, then sprayed his mouth and beard with thick, white heat. Yousef held his mouth open like a baby bird, moaning out his desperation to get more of it inside him. Yousef could not live without his pack brothers on him, in him, all through him.

The wolf came in his gym shorts, still on his knees. The fabric stained visibly, soaking his pups in his own spunk.

The small office was a hothouse of humidity and smell now. An exhausted wolf leaned forward and mashed his face into his pack brother’s pubes. He snuffled and licked at it.

“Fuck…” Tom swore in a drawn-out sigh as the smaller one wiped his muzzle against the others’ bare thighs. Even in the dark, Tom could see Yousef’s playful, beaming teeth.

The lights came on, and a few lucky stray gym towels were at hand for the mopping up.

“I didn’t know he’d be my mate,” Tom explained when Yousef brought up Larry again as they tidied up. “It’s when they become wolf that Luna’s light leads two mates together. And when I smelt him, saw him… I just knew.”

“So, you just—”

“Yus,” Tom gave a happy sigh, like an uncle talking to a nervous teenager getting ready for his first homecoming. “You’ll find your mate someday,” he brought the younger wolf into a hug. “And it will be wonderful and scary and amazing and powerful. More powerful than you. More powerful than the two mates combined. And I have no doubt you’ll find him soon. Hell, a seer like you, you’ve probably already got him in your eye already.”

“No…” Yousef looked down, still in his big brother’s arms. He was excited about someone. But it wasn’t like how Tom was explaining it.

Tom finished the hug with a comforting strong squeeze, and then begged off, saying he had business elsewhere in the gym. They ducked out of the office. Yousef watched his pack brother go and then flipped out his Smartphone. Mountain Peaks Gym’s Instagram was going crazy with hits from the latest instructional video posts.

Still, why worry about a mate? No new wolves were in their midst, nor none in the near future. The borders had held. The pack was strong. And Yousef was in an amazing mood, actually. Through it all, life was good. The pack, the gym, the growing business, the chats with Oakley, the little moments like the one he’d just savored. Yousef’s father would be proud. So proud, the warped mind of the wolf said, even of those little sexy moments. What father would not be proud of his son being desired, being plucked like that, all the time, on demand? Maybe someday Yousef could ensure the old man understood.

He headed out the back, getting ready to transform and perform his duty for the pack, checking the territorial lines. In time, Yousef mused, thinking of his dad, he’d find the words to explain everything.

Praise Luna… cold as a bitch outside! The wolf dashed off into the woods on all fours.

Ray zoomed through the water, performing a pretty good front crawl. He’d never been much of a swimmer in his youth and when rearing his boys, but since Mo’s partial retirement with the buyout. However, he’d gotten the knack during his last two pastor assignments, at Catholic high schools, that hosted natatoriums. He’d picked up the practice.

The mondjugen was so glad to have a pool available to him in his cell.

At least, it was available part of the time. When Ray’s head was clear enough from wolf musk and he got antsy, the room expanded and deepened, and a twenty-five-meter pool appeared. It had been disconcerting at first, but with a few of the intoxicating licks from the beast and some admonishments to ‘be a good boy; be our best boy!’, and Ray had gotten into a rhythm of sleep, food, and swimming. It was a beautiful life if he did not think too hard.

‘Be a good boy,’ Ray mused as he tucked his chin into his chest and performed a summersault in the water. He’d worked hard to perfect the flip turn in here. ‘Be a good boy…’

Ray was a man, thank you very much. But he felt so compelled to be a good boy. Whatever the beast wanted. With his amazing smell, and something… something more. Ray wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt a compulsion, as smooth in his brain as the highest-grade liquor, that he was supposed to be something. To be something. So, a good boy he was.

Truly, it was mostly being quiet, not trying to leave his cell, a small sturdy room without much in the way of decoration or even clues to their location. And to be nice to his brother, the man across the hall who’s name Ray could never remember. The human that the beast referred to as his brother, at least. Ray knew the brother by his scent; he was the visitor to the church from earlier. But now they were brothers. And good boys. Yes, they both must be good boys. Or something.

Really, it was better not to think too much. When they thought too much, they got scared, angry, and noisy. Which brought the beast down to them, banging on the metal door to the cell, telling them to be good boys.

The one difference, day by day, was Ray’s sense of smell. It improved with time. better by the day. Had it been days? It was hard to tell, in their windowless cells. At first, the beasts bled together. Now, Ray could sense that there were at least three beasts, each of its own size, habits, and musky scent.

The smallest came the least frequently. Rangy, menacing, little kindness of comfort from him. Both he and his brother would cower in their cells, so powerful and terrible smelling his presence was. The one whose name was ‘Nando.’ It echoed in between their ears.

The second largest was the strictest. He was the one who had originally picked them up, brought them here somehow (the memory was all a haze), and brought their food and removed their waste. He was also the one who taught them some basic discipline: stay, speak, sit, quiet. Larry. Larry. That was the beast’s name.

It felt good to follow orders from Larry the beast. Good boys got licks, of which Ray was eager to earn. The licks, and the smell on them on his own skin—hell, this place was Camelot, so long as they got their licks.

The third beast was large, the largest, a giant. The third was also the kindest, coming semi-frequently. He was generous with his licks, leaving Ray’s face sopping wet. Tim? Ray strained to remember.

Ray discovered the third at the door to the mondjugen’s cell just now as he finished his final lap. Ray smiled, and the third smiled back as he entered, closing the door behind him. Ray pulled himself out of the pool and walked over to the door. He didn’t dry himself off; there was no towel to be had, or clothes for that matter. Ray had been nude since capture, and his modesty of old was a necessary sacrifice for this life of licks.

“Hello, mondjugen,” the beast whispered, as he slipped a plate of food onto the dedicated slot. Being a good boy meant keeping things just so. “Nice form in the pool.”

Ray smiled and grabbed for the food. The pool’s clarifying experience, both in terms of exercise and washing away scent, left him at the height of mental clarity he could manage. Including understanding words.

“Hello,” Ray offered back. He’d learned it was best to remain on-edge and wary, even with the kindest of keepers. His keen nose smelled something new on this beast. It was… It was another beast! A fourth beast. Fresh scent… wow.

“Won’t be long now,” the beast said. “Luna comes soon, and then you and your brother will be my brothers.”

Ray smiled in his musk-fused haze. That sounded fun. He loved his brothers.

Ray’s memory faded to another place where he was amongst humans. His humans. In rooms, in streets, in plazas. With brothers, playing tricks, making jokes, throwing back drinks until he passed out, flirting with girls, saying prayers in front of crowds, getting thwatted by adults. Happy memories. Someplace else, Ray realized, his eyes coming out of being cross-eyed.

“Brothers,” he spoke out. “How many brothers?”

“Usually seven,” the breast answered. “With you and the other mondjugen, it’ll be eight. So, a bit crowded. But you’ll be so so welcome, and so so happy.”

Ray smiled, tottering on his feet, using the wall to balance on. He wanted to be welcome and to be happy. And to be a good boy.

As he tried to balance, Ray looked behind him. The pool was gone. Just a small cell remained. The architecture of this place made no sense; it was easier just to lean into the licks, and swim down.

“Want a treat?” the beast asked.

Ray blinked. Usually, licks were given if you earned them, not when asking for them. He and the brother had both begged for them after the initial administrations but had been chided by the middle one, the Larry one, as being ‘greedy spoiled mondjugen.’ That word… mondjugen. He had no idea what it meant, except that he was one.

The craving for the licks, to smell like the beasts, to make them happy and to receive their attention… it was in the same neighborhood as Ray’s alcohol addiction. But it was smoother. With the booze, Ray could feel it enter his stomach, wash over his thoughts. With the scent of the beasts, he was already three blocks past the streetlight before he realized he’d stepped the gas with the green. There was no hope of resisting it; avoiding, stopping, resisting licks was impossible. The twelve steps were futile, because he could not bring himself to label the licks a problem. A drink—yeah, you could avoid a bar, an offer of a glass. But Ray existed to be licked. That was what he was for. Right? “Yes,” Ray said. A treat sounded fun.

“Make room,” the beast said, “let me in, little mondjugen.”

Ray backed up so the beast could enter further into the room. He felt a hint of shame then, a combination of modesty, of shame, and of having nothing to give the beast back.

“I’m sorry I’m not a… a better host,” he was able to utter, the first of the few words he could manage. He indicated at the empty cell, with a blanket on the floor, and water bowl, and the pot he used for defecation and urine.

“Don’t be sorry,” the beast chuckled. As he moved into the cell on all fours, Ray sniffed a smell on him. The fourth beast’s scent was… Something familiar. “The… gym? The guy at the gym?” he muttered. An image of the man he’d encountered on the square from earlier flashed through his mind.

“You are all the gift I want, little mondjugen,” the beast ignored him, speaking purposefully.

Ray was hardly little, actually. When he was at his most lucid, Ray could tell his body was stupendous. He was no spring chicken. Still the distinguished look in his face and on his skin, still the slightly filled out waist, still the salt-and-pepper in his beard. But his musculature had exploded into a work of art: a full, high, plump ass, without a hint of saggage, powerful thighs to match, drawing the eye down to well-turned-out calves, and sexy, sexy feet, the tops and toes full of tufted-out black hair. Looking upwards, his waist flared out into a wonderful hairy back, powerful wide shoulders, and strong arms. Mo’s pecs were the piece de la resistance. His most amazing feature, Mo had a proud face, a mix of Spanish and Latin features. But his musculature had exploded into a work of art: a powerful and full chest, with well-worked square pecs that would strain any shirt, if he were allowed to wear one, and a deep cleavage line. A forest of black hair covered them, giving it a hard, masculine look.

The two pectorals stuck out prominently, and the prominent nipples even further, leaving Ray to feel a bit of a peacock. Looking downwards, his waist flared up into a wonderful hairy back, powerful wide shoulders, and strong arms. Ray’s ass was the piece de la resistance on this puppy. A full, high, strong and plump one. Good from every angle. For the record books, really. A nice shelf above and without a hint of saggage below, powerful thighs to match, drawing the eye down to well-turned-out calves, and sexy, sexy feet, the tops and toes full of tufted-out black hair. If the priest was lucky, he could admire his reflection in the pool for the few moments the water remained before it vanished. Otherwise, he was left to marvel at himself. His manhood was large, the balls and penis both, so large that both his hands could not cup them completely. He’d not considered his sex organs for so long. Celibacy meant he treated them like his ear lobes; just sort of there, a part of his human form, but not any further thought given. Now, they pulsed, powerful, profound, tempting. They’d never been as large before… well, before whatever this was.

“Chess?” the beast offered and offered a closed-up board game box. Ray was mystified for a second, but then blinked, nodding. He remembered chess. The monsignor at CUA had taught him, back in the day. The two sat cross legged across from each other, the pieces distributed, white and blacks, and began.

The act of this game felt familiar and brought Ray even further into mental clarity. “I remember… queen and the knight and the pawn,” he said, savoring the novelty of spoken words coming out of his mouth, “What… this piece?” He held it up, a red little red beast’s head, teeth bared, coming out of the base, tongue flared, triangular ears perked.

“Yes,” the beast answered. “The wolf.”

“Not a… chess piece,” Ray sighed. It was hard to think but think he must.

“It is,” the beast replied. He lunged forward suddenly licked Ray across the face, once, twice, three times. The mondjugen’s eyes crossed again, and he almost fell backwards. A silly grin fell across his face, and all was well.

The explanation then entered Ray’s head like music. The wolf piece moved back or forth, up or down, one spot, the beast explained. He could also—pay attention, mondjugen! Be a good boy!—(Ray sat up, eager, so eager, to be a good boy). The wolf piece could also hop over another piece, two full squares if it meant he could take an opponent’s piece. A pounce, the beast explained, clearly proud.

Ray’s head tried to keep up, but the smell of the lick, and his merriment of having the smell all over his face, dripping down his muscular neck, and running down his cleavage, between the two damp matted forests of his chest… well, it was hard to keep up. Something about all four wolf pieces, each one red, amidst the black and white ones. Something about how both sides’ wolves being able to work together, sometimes against the will of the two players. Something about the trembling pawns.

“Wolves work together,” Ray repeated the beast’s instruction, his eyes unfocused.

“Yes, it’s good for wolves to work together,” the beast said. “Always. No matter what the players want.”

Ray listened. Something about how the games of old having wolves in them, but then knights and bishops and kings and suchlike threw them off the board, jealous of them, leaving the wolves to play in the shadows.

“Games with the wolf pieces are just so much better, yes?” the beast offered.

Ray blinked. “The black and the white pieces,” he pointed, in a daze. “Which is the good and which is the bad?”

“Doesn’t matter, little mondjugen,” Tom comforted Ray in his confusion. “The white and black are not good or bad. They’re just different. They’re all different than the red. See?” The beast moved the red pieces in a coordinated way, each of them pouncing two squares, taking a knight, a pawn, a rook all at once. “Wolves have to be kings of their own.”

“That’s… reds are…” Ray murmured, trying to keep up.

“Check,” the beast nodded. “It’s check, eh?” he indicated at the board. After a moment without a response, the beast sighed. “You’re ready for your nap,” he said patiently. Ray nodded, in the haze of musk and tired from his swim. “Go to sleep, little mondjugen,” the beast offered, putting the blanket around Ray’s shoulders as he, still sitting Indian style, snoozed and gradually leaned against the wall.

Ray dreamed of his brothers, all of them in black. Not black like the beasts. In black shirts and pants. He dreamed of brotherhood. Of male companionship that was eternal and unbreakable, shining platinum white. No matter that the bishops and knights and kings thought. A smile drifted across the sleeping stud’s face.

“He’s gonna be a hell of a wolf,” Tom asserted as he came into the small windowless office. It was unadorned besides a small table and a few chairs, some boxes of ‘Mountain Peaks Gym” fliers, branded plastic bottles, and other schwag.

“At least one of them is,” Larry fretted. “The other one’s a wreck. Won’t even let us get near him. Y’all try the chess game?”

Tom nodded. It was an old trick, a subtle way to insert the idea of wolfhood into a mondjugen’s mind. “He’s taking to it. Even spoke a little bit. And that body… whew!” Tom offered a wolf whistle. He and Larry exchanged wolfish grins. The mondjugen was going to be so fun to rut during his pending triple baptism.

“Two more days,” Larry fretted. “Will the other one be ready?”

They were using the old customs again. Their prior Alpha, the late Pete, had practiced (if y’all’d even call it that, Larry would add) unorthodox methods to ingratiate himself to his mondjugen recruits. Larry rolled his eyes, recalling how they’d basically taken over that police precinct, getting Chief Mullins and that Zach fellow into slaves. Getting ’em addicted and sexed up but leaving them loose. And all the messiness and disaster that followed. Larry shuddered at the memory of Agent Al. Never again, he swore.

This method, keeping the mondjugen penned, poppered up, and subtlety enticing them with the power, the desirability of wolfhood… it had its merits. In days of old, wolf folk would use dungeons, or fortresses, or prisons that a carefully placed warden in human clothing to get a mondjugen ready. Now, they were using a gym.

This method, keeping the mondjugen penned, poppered up, and subtlety enticing them with the power, the durability, the desirability of wolfhood… it had its merits. In days of old, wolf folk would use dungeons, secluded fortresses, or prisons that a carefully placed warden in human clothing to get a detected mondjugen ready, to lead him home. Now, they were using a gym.

The old customs were needed, Larry asserted. The assassination of a Alpha right next door (well, it was Alpha Lorraine we’re talking about, Tom had noted, before he was shushed) … No mondjugen could be left out on his own. It would be like sending a blind real wolf pup out into the forest, capable of gasping solely for his she-wolf’s teat and rolling in the needles. They were helping the mondjugen, protecting them. Saving them.

Praise Luna.

Praise Luna, an enchanted gym whose dimensions kept changing as the pack needed. And the pack needed two strong cells in a never-visited corridor. With the ability to grow as the detainees needed: Ray, with his pool (Larry had greatly approved of that one too) and a kneeler on which to murmur, and Mo with his small track to pace on, and a small weight bench, which he used for free weights, and a mat on which to chant.

The strong faith of both mondjugen did not bother the wolves. All humans brought beliefs and values and other human things into the baptismal circle. All would be bleached out by Luna’s light.

Larry fretted. He knew that was not completely true. Yousef still practiced the rituals of his birth faith, and he himself had reunited with at least his sister (Liz was a witch, Larry would point out, which made it slightly less scandalous).

“Don’t worry too much,” Larry’s mate offered. “They’ll both make good strong pack brothers.”

“Y’all always say that,” Larry side-eyed Tom. He thought of the traitorous Mullins.

“And you always fret,” Tom replied. He leaned in and nuzzled at Larry’s neck. Larry sighed. He tensed himself, his four legs bending, as the large wolf moved to mount him.

“Always… you need…” Tom grunted. Larry mewed underneath him as the smaller wolf was entered. “You need…. need!...” he grunted, his head popping into Larry’s insides, “… to relax a little.”

“Yeah…” Larry moaned breathlessly.

“So tight,” Tom licked as his mate’s ears. “So so tight. I’ll loosen you up.” The larger wolf worked his hips, making the other moan louder.

The two fell into a rut. Tom emptied into Larry, who fell into some undignified yips towards the end. Tom always knew how to get his mate going, and Larry did have a submissive side, one he only showed to his mate.

“Fuck yeah, Mr. Second,” Tom blurted as he continued to work his piece into Larry’s chute.

Larry’s eyes widened at that blasphemy. It was fowl, wicked, totally mocking of the pack’s protocol. It was a verbal slight, second only to taking the Alpha’s name in vain. And it worked like a charm. Larry gasped and gulped as he came powerful and fully, soaking the floor with his spunk.

“Nice,” Tom whispered, dismounting so Larry could collapse. He crouched over and lapped up all of Larry’s liquid while the other watched, cock still pulsing. So raunchy. So good.

It was a beautiful thing.

And then the wolf went back for seconds on the Second.

After, Tom transformed into his manly form, used a Mountain Peaks white towel from a bin in the hall to clean up, and started to make for the locker rooms up above. I have a meeting, he offered cryptically. Can’t be late.

“A meeting with who?” Larry shook himself out of his own post-sex daze and looked up to admire his mate. Tom was an amazing specimen, thick, powerful. A Turkish wrestler or a heavy-weight UFC fighter would tremble at the thought of taking him on. Larry was so proud.

“You and Liz gave me an idea,” Tom offered. He didn’t say anything more.

“Don’t get y’all’s hopes up,” Larry replied. He didn’t want to be cruel. “She’s a witch. It’s… different.”

Tom nodded. “I gotta try, my love.”

Larry blinked. He’d never… well, he’d never been called that by Tom before. They were mates. Love… that was a human thing.

Still, it was moving. “Wait,” Larry got up, and rapidly changed to his two-legged form. Naked, just like Tom was, he came over and gave the bigger one a deep hug. “Praise Luna, that she led me to y’all,” Larry offered. “Her greatest gift to me.”

“And her greatest gift to me,” Tom replied, leaning into to receive Larry’s kiss. They made out, deeply, passionately, their manly cocks hardening and bobbing against one another. “I just gotta…” Tom pulled away, trying to find the words. “I have to see if I can find a way to be in her life. However she’ll have me. She’s God’s greatest gift to me.”

Larry looked away. He kept his prediction to himself. “I’ll be here when y’all come home,” Larry finally said, forcing a small smile.

The two shared a final kiss, and Tom headed upstairs to change. As he left the gym, he pulled up LinkedIn to get the address.

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Dream a little dream by WBHunk A random online encounter leads to a chance to become everything he had dreamed of being—but can he trust what’s being offered? 3,054 words Added Jul 2002 15k views 5.0 stars (7 votes) No comments yet •Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Witch/Warlock/Wizard•Complete •M/M

The G by Braun1 Working at the gym in a small town you get to admire the local muscle on the sly. But when someone comes along who’s muscled to the point of being inhuman, all bets are off. 6 parts 43k words (#99) Added Mar 2013 37k views 5.0 stars (24 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Hypnosis •M/M•M/M/M

Graduation party by Jefftaur Steve and the rest of his friends have a huge graduation dance party. It’s already a blast even before the “novelty cup challenge” starts the guys chugging some special boytaur-making beer. 3 parts 3,455 words Added Mar 2009 16k views 5.0 stars (13 votes) No comments yet •Multi-abs•Multicock•Boytaur•Four Legs•Multiarm•Multileg•Multilimb•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength

Ladder of the heavens by Ziel "Someone suggested that I do a story with piercings and jewelry that caused growth in the owner. I made use of some other suggestions as well so this story features a wide array of kinks including muscle/dick growth and even a touch of shrinkage, and there’s even a cute little *spoiler* with a *spoiler**spoiler*" 11k words Added May 2015 20k views 5.0 stars (5 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Pointy Ears•Size Decrease

Mega-tit wrestler freaks by TitMorpher There was no practical way to reverse the impact of the Mega Pecs Maker overdose on the wrestling team, or to hide its outcome. Eventually the team was asked to leave the wrestling league. Even though the boys could not compete against other teams at the present time, their devoted coaches carried on with regular practices and business as usual. 3,005 words Added May 2013 42k views 5.0 stars (3 votes) No comments yet •Muscle Breast•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Stories with Images

Secret origins of the BUFF models by Absman420 A too-alluring enhanced model from a secretive agency spills the beans to a reporter, though being literally irresistible means the interview won’t last long. 10k words Added Sep 2015 19k views 5.0 stars (3 votes) No comments yet •Huge Cock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•First Time/Virgin•Hypnosis •M/M

Transform by Also Known As Containing a secret is a hard thing to do. And the bigger the secret is, the harder it is to keep. No one was finding the truth of this more than those few men in charge at the Institute for Genetic Enhancement where the way has been found to transcend ordinary masculinity. The sequel to Supermen. 35 parts 132k words (#9) Added Oct 2002 76k views 5.0 stars (11 votes) No comments yet •Cock Growth•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Prehensile Cock•Multicock•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Muscle Worship•Voice Deepening•Hyper Pheromones•Infectious•Flying •M/M•M/M/M