Pack: A werewolf’s tale

by Rock Creek Werewolf   

Three weeks later, the pack is packed in. Bill deflects a lawman’s questions, while learning some new tricks. Yousef enjoys his kink. A visiting Alpha receives an audience. Tom and Mullins manage their wood, while Carlos just gets by. They all take a smoke break. A grand bargain is struck.

Hello, wolf brothers. I’m back for more, and hope you are too. I received a lot of kind words about the prior novella, and will be starting a new one. Ideas, praise, and thoughtful critiques very much welcomed as we see the pack move into autumn. Cheers, gents!

Cast of Characters:

• Alpha Pete, giant hulk of a wolfman, red-headed and bearded, tries to do right by his pack

• Carlos, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, likes a tightly run pack, morose over the loss of his mate Hakim

• Tom, of Alpha Pete’s pack, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant with estranged children from before his wolfhood, from Wisconsin

• Larry, of Alpha Pete’s pack, talkative gentlemen distrustful of humans, mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, of Alpha Pete’s pack, former Police Chief, cookie-duster moustache, newly divorced after his wolfhood, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, but starting the branch out

• Yousef, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Lebanese personal trainer and owner of Mountain Peaks gym, Seth’s crush and coming into his own, devote Muslim with a burgeoning spanking kink

• Bill, of Alpha Pete’s pack, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, eager bottom with sleeve tattoos, works at Mountain Peaks Gym

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

• Zach, rookie cop and mondjugen, captive of the pack after threating Mullins at gunpoint.

• Alpha Toddson, silver Alpha of the South Territory, a silver daddy and uneasy frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Nando of Alpha Toddson’s pack, tough and hardened, athletic and horny.

• FBI Agent Allen (Al) Braithwaite, investigating the disappearances of mafiosos (Zach’s cousins) in the region, and also trying to find himself.

“Can you recall seeing any of these four men in the vicinity?” the tall blonde lawman asked. Bill looked down at the photos, playing innocent.

The lawman smelled of Tea Tree pomade, Old Spice deodorant, and gun oil. Too freshly bathed to tell much about his body. Handsome too, Bill had noted. The lawman had entered Mountain Peaks Gym just now and started asking him questions at the front desk. When asked, FBI Agent Allen Braithwaite provided his badge.

“I’ll be,” Bill whistled. “Why are these guys so important to merit FBI?” The county sheriff and state highway patrol had already come and gone these past few weeks.

“They were known to be in the area as of three weeks ago,” Agent Braithwaite ignored his question as Bill scanned the faces. The first three were obviously surveillance photos, the men’s images captured on the street, talking into phones, one drinking a Starbucks. The four was Zach, in his patrolmen uniform and police hat, grinning for his official portrait. There was a family resemblance amongst all of them, slightly olive skin, raven dark hair, boyish grins.

Wolf packs survive across the centuries by never showing illness, never showing weakness. A wolf on his death-moon will still appear ready to take down a moose or sprint all night long. Weakness invites challengers and enemies. So it must be concealed.

It also renders wolves to be pretty good liars. “I ain’t never seen these three,” Bill lived up to his abilities. “The fourth used to work down at the precinct, I think, and he had a membership here at Mountain Peaks. Some personal training sessions. But I don’t know him personally.”

“When did you last see him, Zach D’Ambrosio?” the agent.

“Three weeks ago,” Bill lied.

“Do you have any awareness of their whereabouts? Any at all?”

“No,” Bill said. “I’ve already said this to the other cops.”

The lawman’s eyes betrayed nothing. No change in scent either. Fucker was good at keeping his cards close too, Bill noted to himself. “You know, lying to the FBI can get you in trouble.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not lying,” Bill gave a smile, giving a friendly shrug. Asshole, he continued smiling.

Agent Braithwait’s shoulders sagged just slightly. Just slightly; a man would never notice. But Bill… “Think one more time, any memories of these three at all?” Agent Braithwaite asked. Man… Bill thought… they’re really scrapping the barrel.

“We know they were in this area before they disappeared. Their phone signals stopped here. Their comms stopped here. Same as the other disappearances.” Bill had seen the ‘Missing’ posters for the others: the missing U.S. Part Ranger, the missing graduate student, the missing community leader from north of the park, that strange instigator of the hoax sweepstakes, and the other missing men, twenty or so in all. A lot of strange things, all so mysterious.

Bill turned the page of his Men’s Health. The Rock was on the cover. Bill had such a crush on him.

“Any recollection of where they might be?” Braithwaite pressed.

Bill thought in his head. “No clue,” he answered. He was a survivor. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

The lawman seemed to admit defeat. “Here’s my card,” he handed the embossed FBI seal over to the desk clerk. “If you recall anything, your country would appreciate it if you would share it.” Bill reached to take the card. As the exchange happened, the agent’s hand moved forward just a bit, and Bill blinked as Braithwaite’s fingers tailed along his during the withdrawal.

Bill looked up. The agents stared him square in the eyes, watery blues. It just for a second. Then Braithwaite gave his thanks, turned and walked his athletic body out of the front door into the night.

That was unexpected, Bill shook his head. Then the puff of air from the closing front doors came to the desk. Bill breathed in. Oh no…

He picked up the phone and dialed the 2nd exercise room. “Alpha Pete,” the line picked up.

Bill rolled his eyes. As if it were his office. “Alpha Toddson’s close. I picked up his dander.”

“10-4,” Alpha Pete answered. “Text Larry to get here, and close up like normal. We’ll bring him in once the humans are gone.” Also, on the line, Bill could hear heaving breaths and mews in the background.

“Okay,” Bill tried to keep his tone even.

“You okay?”

“No,” Bill answered. “I got out of his pack for a reason.”

“I know.”

Behind Alpha Pete’s voice, Bill could hear a deep guttural and exhausted “mooooreeee, pleeeeeaaasssseeee” whisper.

“Shut up!” Alpha Pete barked along with a sharp spanking sound, and the line went dead.

Bill put the phone receiver, shut off the gym’s music. He turned on the microphone. “Attention Mountain Peaks Muscle Men and Women, closing time,” he said, peaches and cream.

“Ah nuts!” the silver fox at the shoulder press near the front desk gave a final shrug, smiling at Bill. “Was in the middle of a good pump!” He have a flex of his bicep.

“Good form, Tim!” Bill nodded, grinning.

“Ohhhh gawwwwddddd!!” Yousef brayed, straining to steady himself. The naked sweaty wolf was in a crouch, his thighs splayed out, his knees holding up his weight, while he leaned into his forearms in the front, his forehead pressed into his balled-up fists. There was not much else he could do with his hands. The wolf was handcuffed.

Alpha Pete swatted the pup’s jiggling glutes again, giving a savage spank. “Uhn!!” Yousef yelled out.

“Fuck yeah, runt!” Alpha Pete swore out. Three more slaps in quick succession, backhand and then front hand and back again, One—Two—Three. “Ahhhh!!” Yousef hollered out again, and then fell into a half-sob, half heavy breath. Alpha Pete’s balls drew close. He clutched at Yousef’s flanks and pile-drove it home.

Alpha Pete was inside his pup, had been inside his pup ever day for the past three weeks. Pup needed discipline. The lip, the constant questions, the praying to Gods other than Luna… Alpha Pete had been too lenient with his new pack member, only four months in. After the near-disaster in the national park with the challenge of the former Alpha Haig, and the loss of now-Alpha Seth, pack discipline was needed desperately as they rebuilt.

Plus, Yousef had developed quite the delightful kink for being spanked. As in Alpha Pete delighted in exploring it.

“Fuck yes!” Alpha Pete swore out through gritted teeth, pumping himself dry into Yousef. The Alpha’s gonads pulsed, pulsed, pulsed, until they visibly shrunk, so hard was the pump. The pup gasped words of encouragement and thanks, below, his voice soft, a whisper, spittle dripping onto the gym floor. They would need a mop.

“Good boy,” Alpha Pete whispered, his voice wet and deep, as he withdrew. The stench of ass slick, cum, Alpha Pete’s fetid pubes filled the air. The larger wolf leaned alongside his pup. The Alpha’s hand ran comfortingly along Yousef’s muscular olive back.

“Thank you, Alpha. Thank you, Sir,” Yousef breathed, coming down from his high.

“You’ve been doing leg day like I asked?” Alpha Pete stayed close to Yousef’s ear as his hand drifted down to caress Yousef’s sensitive pink glutes. “Two times a week, extra weights, extra heavy?”

“Yes—uhn… Yes, Alpha,” Yousef grunted at the sensation, trying to stay focused.

“Good…” Alpha Pete whispered. He ran his hand lightly over the sore skin. “Make it two and half.” Spank! his hand landed squarely on the powerful muscle.

“Ahhhh!!” Yousef yelled as the Alpha hopped up.

Yousef rolled onto his side, gasping, half-crying in pain and release.

There was no time to savor it, unfortunately. “Come on, boy,” Alpha Pete gave a reassuring pat to his pup’s side. Yousef sucked in air. He was pretty sore. Alpha Pete walked over to his gym back to get the keys. “We got company coming.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” Yousef sighed as his Lord unlocked the shackles. He leaned his burning-hot forehead into his hands. Praise Luna. Praise Allah. Nothing was better than this life.

He looked up to admire Alpha Pete’s hairy ginger nude form as the hulk walked across the exercise studio, all the full-length mirrors reflecting a thousand images of his muscular glory.

Above the mirrors were Yousef’s new corporate branding, just installed. ‘Mountain Peaks Gym,’ with the silhouette of a wolf’s head and shoulders above the “ea” in peaks, with slanted pupilless white eyes, winking at the viewer.

The last of the autumn moths zoomed around the rear security lights. The katydids’ song was gone, and murmurs of starlings pulsed against purple twilight above the stands of White Pine ringing the backlot. Two powerful wolves entered Mountain Peaks Gym’s property, moving their paws carefully over the freshly laid gravel.

Alpha Toddson gave a sniff, then three. He lowered his grey-streaked head to the gravel and drew in a great breath. Interesting… he thought. His companion, Nando, sniffed too, in confusion, looking left and right. The pack mate gave the impression of one carrying a switchblade, even in wolf form. But then the scent of wolf overwhelmed everything.

“State y’all’s business.” Larry trotted from around the dumpster, ears fully up, eyes directly ahead.

“Hello, Larry,” the larger wolf, the Alpha, nodded.

“State y’all’s business,” Larry repeated, his limbs tensing akimbo. His tail gave one thrash.

“No pleasantries, I see,” the Alpha sighed, giving a satisfied grunt. “Your pack’s feeling that vulnerable, huh?”

“State y’all’s business,” Alpha Pete’s representative said again, on edge.

“All right, Chatty Cathy,” the Alpha rolled his eyes. “Alpha Toddson,” he performed the traditional introduction. “Requesting the honor of entering your Alpha’s domain.”

“Granted,” Larry nodded. He sniffed at both of them, gathering all the info he could. “On behalf of Alpha Pete, I bid y’all welcome, Alpha Toddson.”

All the wolves dipped their heads in a nod. Some traditions never die. “He y’all’s second?” Larry nodded at the Alpha’s companion.

“Nando,” Alpha Toddson gave a bark. “Of my pack.”

“Sure you can handle me?” Nando asked, a hint of a Latin accent coming through.

“Get down, legs spread,” Larry was in no mood. “You better have shat on the way.” On with the scenting.

When pack members move between territories, the customs was to submit for a fucking. The scent that lingered would alert all other wolves to the submission of the visitor, that this pack was traveling openly, without intention to steal or spy.

Traveling openly this time, Larry would have said.

Alphas were sovereign, almost like princes. An Alpha can never submit, not truly, to a “mere” wolf, so their second must do.

Not that Nando was complaining. “Yeah…” he murmured as Larry climbed up his furry back, and the second felt the heat on his hole. “Nice cock, stud, thick and nice.”

Larry nipped and growled at the second’s neck, breathing extra hard to get his scent into the other’s nostrils. “Shut your hole,” he barked, and then sought to open the other one.

They each play acted, testing the other for weaknesses, getting at each other’s goats. But eventually the feelings of Wet and Tight and Hot overwhelmed both their senses. The scents of each were wonderful. The two fell into an animalistic rut.

“Mmmmm,” Larry leaned into it, licking at the head and ears. Alpha Toddson grew hard watching.

“Aye!!” Nando panted heavily, feeling the nut swell inside his hole.

“Fill him up!” Alpha Toddson was good and hard.

“Ugh!!” Larry shut his eyes for the first time in the encountered. His hips weaved and shuddered as he emptied his everything into Nando. It was all far to brief.

The other wolf sighed in satisfaction, feeling so useful and well-fucked. He whined when Larry first sought to withdraw. The other took the hint, and started thrusting again, again and again until Nando spent himself into the gravel, co-mingling with the strange smell below.

Larry withdrew, his scent staying with Nando. Alpha Toddson darted forward to sniff and lick at his pack-whore’s hole. So nice…

“Alpha Pete’s inside,” Larry steadied himself, catching his breath. His tongue hung out as he panted. Larry was one to maintain his dignity; this was a rare ‘let his hair down’ moment.

“We didn’t bring clothes,” Nando mentioned.

“Gyms closed, no matter,” Larry nodded. All three wolves’ snouts withered, their tails retracted, and their rears bloomed into full, thick, round asses. The three rose, in time for their chests to swell out and masculine human faces to emerge.

Wolves are never truly comfortable indoors—the strange smells, confining walls, echoing sounds, and painfully bright lights all compile into a disquieting experience. Better then to become men again for the meeting inside. Finally, all three were muscular, hairy, powerful. Alpha Toddson stood a full head above the other two, though Larry and Nando both had nothing to be ashamed about, in musculature, looks, or manhood.

Larry led them into the back door of Mountain Peaks, and into the first exercise studio. Alpha Pete was waiting for them, freshly showered, but still nude, so as to match Alpha Toddson. They’d brought a few chairs in to sit. Bill was watching the front door, and a recomposed Yousef would mind the back.

“Alpha Toddson,” the host nodded. “Sir Wolf,” he nodded at Nando, not knowing his name.

“What’s with the three human bodies buried out back?” Alpha Toddson asked bluntly.

Tom lugged the tree trunk back to the cabin. A massive thing, at least seventy winters old, when it was felled last spring in a storm. The larger branches shorn off and the wood now nicely dried, it was prime firewood. The wolf moved it forward, slowly but surely. No man, not even the strongest body builder on the choicest cocktail of steroids should have been able to manage that feat.

But Tom was no man.

They certainly needed the firewood. Larry had been haranguing him for years to ditch the old Ben Franklin, of course. They had the electric hooked up, both had the handyman skills to install a proper heater, and Larry hated the time it took to fire the damned thing up.

But Tom couldn’t bear to give up the ritual of chopping wood, managing the stove, the bellows, the flue, and he’d ensured Larry had an electric stove for cooking and fridge and space-heater in every room. Plus the charm of having a cast iron kettle on top of the stove… it just couldn’t be beat. Plus, Larry had not yet needed to touch the ax, not once.

Every mating requires compromise.

Tom dropped the trunk down by the chopping stump with a thud he and all nearby felt in their balls. Skipping a beat, the birdsong in the ash canopy resumed. Tom wiped the sweat from his face and flexed his right bicep for his own enjoyment. The scent of his sweat and of his opened armpit pleased the wolf, stirred his loins. Down boy, Tom chuckled a bit at himself. Plenty of time for that afterward. There was more sweat to be worked up still.

Tom gave a whistle. Chore time. The cabin had been crowded as of late, with three new boarders. He welcomed the help.

Mullins came out of the cabin first, clad in borrowed flannels, jeans, and boots. He gave the woods a sniff and smiled. The scent of Tom’s sweat and the disturbed earth on the east side of the cabin told him everything he needed to know. The wolf bounded down the porch steps and over to Tom.

Carlos followed soon after, coming out from under the porch in wolf form, his fur matted, ears lowered. He meandered over without urgency. Tom grimaced. His pack brother was having an awful time, and it seemed to just endure on and one. Tom understood, having his own bond with Larry.

Carlos spent almost all his time as a wolf now. They’d needed to move him out of his trailer and in with Larry and Paul, the better to watch over him and avoid self-harm. Sad to say, but it was a risk with Carlos right now.

Tom’s problems were also acute. Wolf kills of men were few and far between. Packs didn’t need the attention, and the taste of almost any game was preferable anyways. But three in one stroke—that was dangerous indeed. As soon as the Chief had come sobbing and soaked in human blood to Alpha Pete’s door, the pack had hopped to action. Ammonia to destroy the traceability of DNA in the drips and footprints (something any wolf can find by scent). Strong muscles to quickly dig deep enough to bury the evidence. And cunning to move the in-danger wolf and the injured monjdugen to Larry and Tom’s cabin basement. The pack must be protected. All of the pack. Especially after the loss of Alpha Seth that same night at the national park.

Mullins did as he was told, didn’t complain, blessedly, and laid low.

Zach… well, the mondjugen was healing in the cellar. The wolves took turns staying with him, ensure he stayed good and comfortable and hazy, poppered up on werewolf musk, worshipful, dazed, quiet. It was an awful situation. But they could not perform the triple baptism until Luna came next. Turning him wolf would make everything right. One week to go… Tom thought.

Humans may blanche at the idea of a man imprisoned against his will, but this was not a man; Zach was mondjugen. Silly things like human laws… well, werefolk have no care for such things. Luna was calling this one home. All would be well soon for Zach, the pack was sure of it, once he assumed his destiny as a pack brother.

Until then, the cellar.

Tom and Mullins had come to appreciate each other through their outdoor work and stoicism. Wordlessly, the two started chopping at the large trunk, segmenting off entire cords of wood, for later chopping into smaller pieces that the stove could accommodate. Each was shirtless, their muscles fully pumped, grunts of exertion, chops, cracks, thuds. It was a beautiful thing.

Carlos skulked the perimeter, keeping watch, reluctantly. Every time he shied back to the cabin, Tom gave a whistle. The wolf would remain out, but the ears stayed down.

Tom shook his head at his pack brother. It had been three weeks. Grief was one thing, but survival was paramount. Something had to change soon.

“How’s the mondjugen?” Tom gave in between chops.

“Oh, pretty good,” Mullins answered, between his own chops.

“One more week, huh?” Tom asked. One of the wolves still connected to humans in a way, he hated the idea of kidnapping. But the alternative was capture and torture for Mullins and likely exposure of the pack, of all wolfkind. They had already given up so much.

“One more week until the triple B,” Mullins answered, smiling. He’d lost everything. It was nice to look forward to something again.

And in that moment, Tom gave a sniff. He took another draw. That was it. The first smell of cool earth of rotting leaves, of mushrooms and dirt, and the absence of new roots, new flowers. Berries gone, nuts emerging, dying leaves, and the geese departing. The Scent. Autumn had arrived.

He gave another chop at the wood, sweat spaying off his back, and into the leaves around his feet.

Carlos gave an idle sniff from not-far-off and marked the trees with his urine. Going through the motions. He breathed in and out. He missed Hakim.

Alpha Toddson blinked. “So, you’ve got the law and the mob after you, huh?” The older Alpha gave a grin. “Nice work, Alpha Pete. I might just have to take over all this land once your pelt is hanging on the wall at the national park visitor center.”

“I will insist upon the Smithsonian,” Alpha Pete replied. Alpha Toddson smiled, enjoying the witty repartee. “Until such time, the land is occupied,” Alpha Pete said from his folding chair. Alpha Toddson was stoic for a second in his matching seat. He gave another sniff at the air, the exhale turning into a growl as he grinned. “Ah yes. By the way, how’s my Billy?”

“My Bill is just fine,” Alpha Pete didn’t take the bait.

The two sat a few feet some one another, in complaining metal chairs, at the center of the exercise studio. Larry and Nando were on the edges, eyeing their Alphas and one another An Alpha Council carried the assurances of safety for all, but this bilateral meeting, without the witness of a third Alpha to even referee? Things were bound to be tense.

All were nude, muscles and body hair fully flared. No need for modesty when the humans were abed.

“Bygones, as they say,” Alpha Toddson shrugged. “Sneaky of him to wiggle away. But all’s fair in pack and plunder.”

“Which is why you’re here.”

“How could I not be here?”

“I don’t know,” Alpha Pete countered. The air around them was thick with their co-mingling musk. “You’ve got plenty of land. I don’t.” The loss of the national park property to the perpetual black hole of magic had been a harsh blow, the consequences not filly thought out by the pack. Werefolk never did practice long-term strategy very well. In wilds of the wood, natural wolves tend not to live very long, so thinking past one season has the same implications of thinking a century forward. The were struggled to overcome the shortcomings of their cousins.

“And you’ve got none,” Alpha Toddson countered. He was breathing harder, and Alpha Pete was too. Musk, musk, musk. The wordplay, the stand-off, it was all such a turn-on. Rare was the time when two Alphas smelled one another so close in close quarters. “Gave it all away to Alpha Haig’s big blunder,” Alpha Toddson taunted, working to stay on task. “Now there’s a black hole where the national park used to be, and now I find my neighbors to the north left with just a fifth of their hunting grounds, eyeing my borders to your south.”

“We haven’t been on your land,” Alpha Pete asserted, his nostrils flaring, a tell of arousal.

“That much, you mean,” Alpha Toddson asserted, licking his human mouth. “Can smell your stinking scat all over the dividing line.”

“Not that much,” Alpha Pete nodded. He was a good liar too.

“My point exactly!” Alpha Toddson injected, his voice wet with victory. He breathed in, and then sighed, adjusting his stance. He was growing hard.

“Nothing to fear from us,” Alpha Pete said. He squirmed himself, the smell from his pubes blooming.

“I am not reassured. Facts are facts,” Alpha Toddson gave his groin a rub. In their nudity, each was receiving visual and sensual confirmation of the others’ arrival. In the encased space of the exercise studio, the musk was getting to the other. An Alpha can control their attraction and arousal against a normal pack member but confronted with an Alpha… when Luna willed arousal, she got it. The sanctity of an Alpha Council sanitized things, it was found, but here, all bets were off.

“I ain’t stupid. You don’t have enough land, fucker. And you’re not stupid. As soon as you regroup, the first thing you’ll do is seek out more land…” Alpha Toddson panted, “Not enough…” he swallowed, involuntarily, “…to sustain a pack.” He threw up his hand, as if at an imaginary map. “And Haig left a giant tract north of the park, no sentries. Alpha Schreider’s too. Go take that, give me you yours. And we avoid a war no one wants.”

“You accuse me of poaching, and then come to poach mine. Not everything is a great power struggle,” Alpha Pete was sweating. His eyes darted across Alpha Toddson’s body, his muscles, and drew in his scent. “Last I heard, Kissinger went to meet his maker.”

“Alpha Haig had a lot to learn from…” Alpha Toddson barked, but his voice trailed. Again, the swallowing, “…Kissinger. Alas, he was impetuous and struck the iron before it was hot.”

Testing the waters, Alpha Pete scooched his chair forward. The chair legs gave low roars as he advanced to the center of the room. Alpha Toddson raised an eyebrow and smiled despite himself.

Alpha Pete continued: “Alpha Haig almost blew up the entire world, and our kind with it.”

Nando was panting in arousal. Larry struggled not to show his own hardness, and to keep away of his security role. Damnit, these Alphas were hot…

“Alpha Haig was a horse’s ass,” Alpha Toddson panted. He picked up chair and advanced forward, plunking it down and sitting. They were now face to face, foreheads touching if they chose to lean in. Alpha Toddson took a deep whiff of the mixing musk of Alphas. Praise Luna, that’s the shit. “But I will not say he was wrong.”

“You didn’t join him,” Alpha Pete responded. He reached, grabbing Alpha Toddson where it counted, curving his hand to cradle the searing hot sausage. Alpha Pete whistled. Thick and nice. Nando, off to the side, tensed, and leaned to the right, trying to see that all was well.

There was tension for a second. Just a second.

Then Alpha Toddson gave a croon. His own hand reach over and grabbed his companion’s. Unlike Alpha Seth, both these Alphas loved the verbal dance. Loved it a great deal.

“Stayed. Behind,” Alpha Pete gave a yank with each syllable.

Alpha Toddson grunted, the first loss of his composure. “Fortune does not always favor the brave,” his voice got raspier as his arm and hand started doing more of the work. “And had the fucker won…” three tugs, “we’d—have—joined!”

Alpha Pete gave a grunt, losing his train of thought. The individual yanks had ended, and each was now offering a constant jack off.

“But he didn’t win. And so here we are,” Alpha Toddson was sweating now, his body emitting pheromones to make both their seconds hard, their cocks at full mast where they stood. “You’re down a wolf, Alpha Pete,” the other Alpha’s paw was now grasping, caressing the entire groin, the balls, the inner thighs, slick with wet and scent. “With Alpha Seth out for the count. I hear another of your wolves was mated and then separated—uhhhhnnnnnn!!” Alpha Toddson lost control of his tongue, a moan tumbling forth as Alpha Pete started using both hands. “And then you’ve got two newbies who’re barely trained warriors,” Alpha Toddson gasped, “and that runt Billy out front can’t take on shit.”

“He takes a lot. Can take it like the best,” Alpha Pete panted. He gave a big lick to Alpha Toddson’s cheek. The damn burst. The two made out, energetically, wetly, breath and spit. It went on for a grunting minute, throat noises for effect and for show. Nando and Larry watched closely for the security of their Alphas and their own lurid enjoyment. It wasn’t every day two Alphas got into a negotiation, but it was special indeed when the scents of two Alphas clicked.

“I recall,” Alpha Toddson moaned, coming up for air. It turned him on, how debasing this was for both of them. His toes curling as Alpha Pete’s hands never ceased their administration. “Sweet, sweet hole, I recall. But…” the wolf struggled to keep his thoughts together. “Hole’s… don’t… win brawls.”

Alpha Pete rose from his seat. Alpha Toddson did the same. There was no plan, no prior rehearsal. The lovers embraced each other, madly kissing, hands roaming across their wide muscular hairy backs and plump high glutes. Alpha Pete bend one knee slightly and jutted his thigh gently but insistently in between Alpha Toddson’s quads. The other wolf returned the favor, and the two were soon in a dance of sorts, each propping the other up. “You can barely fight as it is,” Alpha Haig came up from the kiss for air. “Uhn!!”

“You’re down two yourself,” Alpha’s Pete whispered back. He gave a big sloppy lick along Alpha Toddson’s right cheek. The other smiled. Praise Luna, this was fun. Alpha Pete leaned in to lick this companion’s ear. “Don’t think I didn’t smell Charlie and Roscoe in the park, before the fight was won,” Alpha Pete managed to whisper into the others’ ear, before licking it again.

Alpha Toddson blanched, his lovers’ smile dropping. Alpha Pete went in for the kill, entering a kiss and sucking Alpha Toddson’s tongue into his own mouth, holding on to it until the other groaned, at the edge of distress. “I thought so,” Alpha Pete let go. “And you’re old, Alpha Toddson. Old as fuck,” he interjected while Alpha Toddson regained his speaking ability. You’ve got twenty years on me.”

“Yes, a silver fox,” the wolf nodded down at his salt-and-pepper chest, hair, and his silver beard stinking of their co-mingled saliva. “Twenty years wiser.”

“Wouldn’t bet on you in a fight—uhn!!” Alpha Pete said, losing his composure as Alpha Toddson dove down and latched on to a nipple, his arms clutched around Alpha Pete to hold him steady. “And mighty… Oh my Jesus… rich you… you… fuck!!... coming in here…” Alpha Pete voice rose as he arched his back, leaning aft, throwing his head back to gasp at the ceiling. He was panting now, barely able to communicate. Alpha Toddson’s chewing mouth at his pec and manly hands nursing his pre-cum-lubed cock was having its intended effect.

“…accusing me of planning to invade your pack territory, saber rattling and all the rest,” Alpha Pete finished, losing his own train of thought.

“I’ll invade this first…” Alpha Toddson swore out. He tensed his legs, bending them a bit to lower his center of gravity. His hands came around to grip Alpha Pete’s cheeks. The two actions provided the leverage the wolf needed to hump himself into his partner, cock against cock, the pube nests now smelling identical.

Alpha Pete gasped and coughed, the air so thick with musk, he could drink it. The wolf reached around and held Alpha Toddson’s head against his shoulder as the other went to town. Alpha Pete licked at the neck and ears, egging Alpha Toddson on with his panting breaths and deep timbered voice.

“Fuck!” Alpha Toddson shouted, gruff and loud. All the wolves drew in breath, reveling in the scent of the cum spraying across Alpha Pete’s naked thighs and wolfhood. Two—three—four pints. It spilled in gushes to the floor. They would need a mop.

Nando and Larry were both treated to Alpha sex. The two muscular fuckers emptied themselves across one another, twice each. Alpha Pete had the last volley and gave a long low moan as his mixed with the rest, dribbling across their bare feet.

Now Nando’s and Larry’s biggest worry was the two would slip, their silly human feet vulnerable to the wet on the wood floor. The two had an almost controlled fall as they came to rest, sighing. The tension had been worked through. The underlying dispute remained, but there would be no fight today.

“Yes, so, don’t even think about it, trying for our land,” Alpha Pete sighed. The Alphas were laying on one of the room’s yoga maps as they idly jerked their spent cocks. Larry and Nando were on the edges, still human, crouching on their knees, licking at the mixed spunk desperately. It all smelled wonderful.

With a whistle from the Alphas, Nando went to mount a needy Larry. The two went at it, each of their human faces messy with cum. The grunt of release echoed against the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A thousand Nando’s inside a thousand Larry’s.

The two Alphas enjoyed the view, and then laid back down.

“You know, without Roscoe and Charlie…” Alpha Pete started in again.

“Knuckleheads, both of them. I miss their muscle, their holes. I don’t miss their bullshit.”

Alpha Pete paused a space. “Alpha Toddson… I think I have something that can assuage your loneliness.” The other got up on his left side, supporting his large chest with his elbow.

“I’m listening, stud,” Alpha Toddson said.

The bell rang over the door as Bill stepped into the diner. Xochitl was at the counter, her apron on, her olive-skinned arms decked out in a few bracelets each; she and Bill smiled simultaneously as they spotted each other.

“Tall lawman come by, asking nosy questions?” Bill whispered as he took a stool.

“Sí,” Xochitl whispered back, fluidly putting down a napkin and utensils. “Plus she here,” Xochitl gave a nod to her right.

Bill played it cool and looked over. The Chief of Police was seated at one of the window-side booths. A self-described bull dyke, Barb was formerly the county sheriff. The disappearance of Mullins had necessitated a quick county and city government re-shuffle, and Barb got the slot. Organized, fair, tough, and ready to shake things up. The wolves looked warily at one another when that intention was announced. Barb was talking with another of the precinct’s officers—a tall drink of water called Mikulski, who had joined with Zach’s rookie class.

Barb and Bill met eyes for a millisecond, enough for her to smile and wave. Bill waved back, playing it cool. He tried to steer clear of all lawmen, even the friendly ones. They were nothing but trouble to his kind. But he needed to keep up appearances. The wolf waved back and went back to studiously looking at the menu. As if he didn’t have his order memorized.

“Scrambled eggs, bacon, and rye?” Xochitl asked, filling napkin holders.

“Give it another minute. So, I can look at the menu some more while we talk,” Bill whispered.

Once Mullins had abandoned his duty for over week, the county came in and deemed him AWOL. Another week and he was relieved from duty, pending a disciplinary hearing. Now it was assumed he was missing, dead, and either the victim or the perpetrator of the disappearances. A wonderful thing, to have law enforcement descend down upon the town when all the pack craved was just to lay low.

“Hell, maybe we should pull up stakes and head north,” Bill murmured, to Xochitl and to himself.” ‘Lite out to the territory,’ popped into his head, and Bill smiled at the memory of a good read.

“And leave paradise?” Xochitl indicated at the diner around her. The two laughed a bit. Amongst the pack, she and Bill were becoming the best of friends.

“How’s my bebé?” Xochitl continued to whisper as she fetched an order pad.

“Fine,” Bill looked down at the menu, not wanting a look in the eye.

“Liar,” Xochitl took the menu away from him.

The hot busboy (yeah him… inquiries had been made) ran by and opened the trash to dump the refuse from one of the six-seaters. A fetid smell bloomed.

Bill lifted his right hand and whispered the words. A flick of the wrist, and the smell receded into nothing.

Xochitl raised her eyebrows slightly and gave a small gasp. That movement turned into a genuine smile. The man was learning, she nodded. Very nice. Bill smiled back.

“Waitress!” Mikulski called from his table. He and Barb were both looking over expectantly.

“Pendejo,” Xochitl whispered. She waved one of her servers over as Bill ordered. Hanger steak, carrots, baked potato, and side salad. Xochitl gave an interested hum.

Something new for a change, Bill nodded. And he needed to get his strength up. Luna’s Light would come in one week’s time.

After all four wolves cleaned up in Mountain Peaks’ showers, Alpha Pete headed out the front. Bill had already taken his leave. Thus, Larry and Yousef were left to show Alpha Toddson and his second out the rear.

“Thank you, wolf,” Alpha Toddson acknowledged Yousef as he and Nando, both still in human form and nude, stepped gingerly out onto the gravel. “What as your name? You’re still in your first twelve moons?”

Yousef nodded yes, and Alpha Toddson made a crack, asking about whether he was yet over the stirrings, the first month after wolfhood where libido is infinite and the thirst for cock unquenchable.

“Who says it ever stops?” Yousef cracked, and all four wolves had a good chuckle. Larry and Yousef were joined in the nudity. It was long past closing time, and the sky jet black. All that light the night were the rear security lights, and the thousand points of light across the heavens.

“Yousef…” Nando rolled the name around his mouth. “I hear you’re the one that still prays? To a human god.”

“Wolves are all a reverent bunch,” Yousef answered, holding the door open for them. “One way or another.”

“Reverent because we’ve seen Her power with our own eyes,” Alpha Toddson said, his grey eyebrows raising. “Seen our flesh changed, felt our brains become different better. That’s Luna. No other.”

“I try to keep them both in my heart,” Yousef looked down.

The evening was quiet. The fall crickets sang. Nando moved to go, but Alpha Toddson whistled him to pause. “Share a smoke?” he asked Larry and Yousef. “I can smell the box,” he indicated.

“Sure,” Yousef popped it out of his pocket, along with the lighter. A filthy habit. He’d gotten the rate down to just a few a week. But after experiences like earlier this evening… Praise Luna, he needed it. Larry and Nando also took one each.

Alpha Toddson lit his first, and then leaned over. Yousef put one in his mouth, and the two did the dance of mating cranes, touching tips, Yousef sucking in enough to light his own.

“Nice,” Alpha Toddson nodded at Yousef’s mastery of the act.

“Shame on the Lebanese man who can’t light a cigarette that way,” Yousef shrugged, and they both gave a chuckle.

“That’s just the thing,” Alpha Toddson took the cigarette out of his mouth between his index and middle finger as Larry and Nando lit up. “You’re no man.”

“I know…” Yousef tried to find the words. He sighed out a breath of smoke, trying to keep it friendly and light. “You know what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, and it’s wrong. You’re wolf,” Alpha Toddson stared intently at Yousef. “Lebanon, Islam, Arabia, humanity.” He gesticulated a bit with his hand and smoke for emphasis as he drove the point home. “They. Are. Not. Your. People.”

“Allah has not forgotten me,” Yousef leaned against the rear wall, and looked off into the night. He gasped a second when his sore bare rear touched the brick.

Larry shifted from one foot to another. Far too in-depth a conversation for his taste, especially without their Alpha present.

Alpha Toddson tried another tactic. “Tell me: what do you ask for when you pray, when you… bow down to that man.”

“I… Allah is a God. We don’t pray to Moha—”

“Forgiveness? Peace? Recognition?” Alpha Toddson probed. Larry gave a cough.

“Sure,” Yousef took another drag. His voice got testier.

“Shit, any God who needs their peoples’ recognition, their praise? They don’t deserve the title,” the Alpha stated. “No God worth worshiping asks permission, boy, nor needs your bows.”

“ ‘Bring Me Treats And Tell Me I’m Pretty’ “ Nando recited a popular meme with a laugh. He took a long drag.

“Silence, Nando,” Alpha Toddson chided. “But he had a point. Praise Luna, she chose us. We don’t choose her.”

“I didn’t give permission when I was born,” Yousef interjected. “Yousef,” he looked over at his pack brother, “you’re made Baptist upon birth, right?”

“Ah, you do believe in finders—keepers,” Alpha Toddson raised an eyebrow. “How careless of your Gods then, to allow you to be stolen away.”

“We’re through here,” Larry said. The evening was over.

Alpha Toddson grinned. He really did have an eerily wolfish grin in his human form. The Alpha flicked his cigarette into the sand bucket by the door. His fingers became paws, his white beard spread across his neck and shoulders, becoming a mane. He and Nando both felt to all fours as their hips inverted and their tails bloomed. Each trotted to the middle of the gravel lot.

Alpha Toddson turned. “Didn’t mean to make it so heavy. But the Goddess I follow chose me, swooped down like an eagle and snatched me, all of us, in her talons,” the Alpha tossed his head for effect. Nando weaved back and forth behind him, eager to get going. “No permission, no mercy, just service and magic and this amazing form we’ve taken. And all that was left of our manhood was our screams, echoing in the night. Praise Luna!”

The wolf bounded off, his leaps as high as an elk’s.

Larry took a final puff and flicked his into the bucket. “Man, impromptu theology lecture.”

“He’s not kind,” Yousef observed quietly. The wolf looked sad, chastised. Larry leaned over and gave him a comforting pat on the arm.

“He’s… not,” Larry sighed. “Bill can tell you. Used to be a part of his pack.” Then both of their nostrils flared. Yousef hurriedly flicked his cigarette into the sand.

Alpha Pete’s Jeep drove around from the front lot. He stepped out of the door, dressed in jeans and a tight flannel. The Jeep lurched as he stepped off the step. The Alpha took one sniff. “Filthy habit, boys,” he chastised.

“What’s the verdict?” Larry asked. “Shithead’s already gone.”

“Alpha Toddson drove a hard bargain, and so did I,” Alpha Pete insisted on the honorific. “We’re giving him—”

“Better not be even one Luna-damned inch of land,” Larry interjected.

“Silence!” Alpha Pete barked. Both drew back. “Want a spanking like your brother here?”

“No,” Larry looked down. Yousef looked down too, but he smiled. His hole pulsed. His rear felt warm. One—two—three…

Alpha Pete looked down at the cigarette butt embers still glowing in the beige of the bucket. He wished he smoked sometimes, truly. “We’re giving him a mondjugen...”

Alpha Pete couldn’t help by smile. Tom was so adorable when he was furious.

“You couldn’t devise a better way to destroy us,” his pack member paced back and forth angrily across the planks of his front porch, the wood complaining under his giant bulk and work boots.

Alpha Pete was hearing him out from the porch swing (Tom had reinforced the joists and doubled the chains, but the thing still strained against his Alpha’s muscles). The two gigantic stud wolfs, the first and third largest of their pack, were alone; Larry had gone on patrol once he and Alpha Pete arrived at the cabin. Mullins had joined him, after the subtle urgings of their Alpha. Zach was still downstairs, more or less willingly.

Tom had asked for a heart-to-heart, and his Alpha agreed. They’d been together the longest.

They held it on the porch, to enjoy the twilight. The lightning bugs were out. With flashing yellows shared between them, a wolf is always partial to fireflies.

Alpha Pete sat down on the swing. He didn’t ask permission; no Alpha ever needs to ask with regards to their pack’s property. Silly things like human laws give individual men rights to land and houses and event objects, but wolves are much more clear-eyed about such matters. Everything on an Alpha’s land is open to his use because it is his. Little need for pack brothers to fight when there is little to fight about.

But it was not a hard and fast rule. Case in point, the mondjugen.

“It must be done,” Alpha Pete stated as Tom made another round, shaking his head at the ground. Alpha Pete shifted his weight, but the swing was steadfast.

Tom stopped pacing, turned to face his Alpha, and said straight on: “It’s not that simple. Giving away Zach to Alpha Toddson will destroy Mullins. He’s completely hooked.” Tom threw his hands up, looking out at the yard, and then back, directly at Alpha Pete. “The pup will butcher us all, you watch.”

Alpha Pete looked back, starring back intensely. He gave a cautionary grunt. Tom returned the stair for just a second, then looked down. “Sorry, Alpha.”

“Watch your tone,” Alpha Pete said cooly.

“Yes, Sir,” Tom said, pacing again, like a nervous canine. Many traits of the wolf cross over into the man. “He’ll butcher us.”

“He won’t—” Alpha Pete sighed, but Tom interrupted.

“He will! And probably blow our cover in the process,” Tom was incensed. Even in human form, his eyes were glowing amber. “It’s getting harder and harder to be discrete, and after all the sweepstakes fiasco… the murders—”

“Mullins was defending himself,” Alpha Pete interjected at that characterization. His eyes shone too.

“Ho ho!” Tom mocked laughed. He couldn’t stop walking the porch. Alpha Pete noticed his pace increasing. “Courting a mondjugen without telling the pack, not even doing the basics, checking if there’s dedicated family. Thank your lucky stars he was the chief of police and not the rookie in that fight, able to snatch the security tapes. And that we were able to get those mauled carcasses over to Mountain Peaks before daylight.”

“He’s also dedicated to law and order,” Alpha Pete looked out at the dark yard himself. Adherence to men has transferred over to wolf.”

Tom stopped. He looked up at his Alpha. “The murderer… law and order… Fantasy,” Tom scoffed. “You’ve created this Mullins character in your mind, man! He missed the battle with Haig, he missed the most recent coming of Luna… he’s a piss-poor pup, and—”

“Hold your tongue, wolf,” Alpha Pete stood. He emphasized the ‘wolf.’

Tom stood his ground. “I know what it means to lose everything. Especially as a parent.” His face was pained, and his voice broke. “I know what it does.”

Alpha Pete struggled not to wince.

“Now you can whoop my ass from here until Sunday,” Tom stepped forward, his tone falling to a semi-whisper. “But you’ll hear this, Peter Townsend!”

The stars themselves seemed to gasp.

Alpha Pete gave a menacing bark. His beard grew in, and the fur on his arms too.

The pack member signaled immediately his overstep. Tom got down on one knee, as was only proper, and kept his eyes down. Staring at the porch planks, he evoked his wolven oath.

It was decidedly old fashioned, but sometimes the old ways are best. “Alpha, Lord of this Pack, Lord of my Body, Servant of Luna, Child of the Ivory and Pearl…” All the while, Tom could hear clothing ripping and the stench of wolf musk blooming. Eager to get it all in, Tom continued: “Forgive my trespass, and discipline me as your just hand guides.”

A minute of silence more. Finally, a bark broke the silence. Looking up, Tom saw the fully formed wolf in front of him, muscle upon muscle, fur unfurled and eyes glowing, with a mouth full of menacing teeth.

He was… breathtakingly beautiful, the kneeling wolf gasped, then bowing again, even lower. Tom shifted his stance, to accommodate his burgeoning erection.

“Alpha Pete, Chief’s got nothing. He’s lost everything—family, job, any hope of a discrete human life.” Tom nodded his head to the ground. “And now all he has is the kid in the cellar below us. Whom you just traded like a baseball card.”

“He has the pack,” the giant wolf in front of Tom grunted. He gave a frustrated kick of his hind foot. The porch swing was sent crashing through the side railing of the porch, clattering into the wild rose bushes Larry had transplanted.

“He doesn’t think like that, Alpha Pete,” Tom replied.

“He’ll learn.”

Tom knew when to quit. And what was coming.

Another moment of silence. The fall crickets had just started their chirping when the Alpha roared them silent. “Become wolf,” Alpha Pete barked. “Now.”

Tom nodded and rushed to strip. Plaid button-down tossed over to the rocking chair, jeans still belted over the remnants of the side railing, boots tossed to the side in a tumble, the watch clattering someplace. Tom didn’t bother removing his socks—took too long and they’d soon be off anyways.

“Threshold,” Alpha Pete barked, even louder. Some roosting starlings chirped their alarm and flew off from the maples in the yard.

Tom was already on all fours in his stocking feet, bare ass up. He looked so so enticing. His human form crawled over to the cabin’s door, and opened it, hinges complaining. The handyman in him gritted his teeth. That needed some oil. But then he grunted and lost his train of thought. Alpha Pete had spanked him good.

“Now!” Alpha Pete barked. Spank!

“Yes, Sir!” Tom gasped, and rapidly transitioned. The fur erupted across the broad expanse of his back like lawn grass in May. His tail sprang out already thrashing with nervous energy.

The pack member dared not look back. He’d already tried his Alpha’s patience enough. So, he only looked down at the threshold, him facing inwards towards the cabin. His human fingers fused, and his claws crested.

“Fucking challenge me?” Alpha Pete was on top of him then. “Not gonna have it, Tom. Not gonna!” Tom adjusted his legs to accommodate the weight. His entire pelvis snapped as it inverted and narrowed, while the heels turned into haunches. “You need to be reminded who’s boss!”

“Sorry, Alpha,” Tom panted. A bit of it was theatrical, but a bit of it was genuine. Men playact at dominance, but they cannot hold a candle to the primal need for a wolf to be dominant, or to be dominated.

Alpha Pete chomped at Tom’s ear then. It wasn’t play acting. The wolf squealed and whined as he smelt blood.

“Don’t ever use my fucking human name again. Ever!” the Alpha whispered from behind him. Then the weight was removed. Tom panted, gritting his teeth at the pain, and in anticipation of what he expected next.

The air was full of musk and spittle. Finally, it came. Tom grunted a bit as the stream of urine hit him, boiling hot and splattering down his back, rivers running across his powerful shoulders and into his fur and the threshold’s welcome mat below.

Yes, a scenting was needed. Desperately needed. Tom felt himself craving it. Moaning for it. All three. Please!!

Tom arched his head back to ensure some of the precious liquid got into the fur of his head and neck. A part of the stream got into one of his ears, the uninjured one, and all the sound became muffled.

“Fucking mouthy fucker!” the Alpha behind him panted. The urine stream stopped, and Tom sighed, gasping his thanks. Then he grunted, and then grunted lower. Tom spread his legs, and lowered his tail to ease the Alpha’s path in.

His hole was well practiced, but it still always hurt so so good.

Tom was not sorry. His hold stretched to accommodate the Alpha dick. It all had needed to be said. But appearances needed to be kept and primal needs needed to be met. What would the man who once was Tom have thought, if he were to be shown his super-muscular urine-and-cum soaked self now?

Fuck him, Tom would have thought. He’s dead and gone. His thoughts were irrelevant because they did not exist. He wasn’t anywhere on the face of the Earth, Tom told himself over and over, especially when thoughts if his children, his fatherly instinct invaded. No where on the face of the Earth.

Tom was here, now. He was Wolf. And he was being cored out.

Fucking maintained the bond of pack and of Alpha. And the Alpha needed the reassurance of this submission that the raised voices and feelings were just that and nothing greater.

Plus Tom needed a good fucking. It had been too long (like at least six hours…).

Tom’s rear paws ripped through his socks as they finished expanding into proper pads. That sounds accompanied his whorish grunts as he hammed it up for his Alpha. Tom gritted his teeth and endured hellish paradise, right there, sweat and bit of piss and soon entire pints of cum, his and his Alpha’s, on his own threshold. Praise Luna…

Larry on the prowl.

They’d already performed their first patrol, he and Mullins. A second was called for, but it was pretty quiet tonight. Alpha Toddson and Nando had not exactly been conspicuous with their departure. Urine, scat, and tracks the whole way home. Annoying as fuck, but also a give-away of their departure.

Mullins had hinted he wanted to veer off and meet up with Bill. Larry sighed; he knew the Chief had cabin fever, and also the night-life schedule. So let his pack brother ditch.

Larry took the alone time to really step on the gas. He ran through the forest, leaping, bounding, zagging, zigging. He was a strong wolf and really prided himself in his ability to master any kind of terrain or foliage. Larry loved the hills and ridges. He’d first picked up the skills of navigating mountains in the Smokies, back when he was turned and after with his first pack. It made him feel at home.

The wolf was also burning off some steam. The whole encounter with Alpha Toddson had really stuck in his craw. It was one thing for Alphas to butt heads, trash talk, exchange barbs and fluids. That was statecraft that any pack could anticipate.

Needling into the doubts and habits… the vestiges of human life of individual pack members?—that was just a bridge too far. Praying to human gods was strange, but no one could say it was insincere. Yousef was odd in holding on to the human ways. But he was pack.

The more Larry thought of it, the angrier he got. Steaming hot, in fact. He felt ashamed, wishing he’d been more forceful in driving the old codger away. He steamed forward, going full tilt through the brush.

Finishing the second round to the point of panting, Larry decided to go for a swim. Cool him off and drown his scent. It sounded good.

One of the smaller mountain rivers that fed into the now verboten national park paused on its journey in at a junction of exposed juts of bedrock, ridges of earth fortified by some truly ancient trees, all creating a small lake in the foothills. No road access, so no boating, just some gravely nature trails, a few stinking rarely emptied trash cans, and two docks installed in the summer months by the National Park Service (Alpha Seth had hated that, Larry smirked). Good fishing and good swimming. Larry was on his way.

It was pitch black now. The forest was not yet in full autumn, but the signs were there. Insect song already dulling, the freshness in the leaves wafting away, it was all in process. Larry was far from the most feral of wolves (some packs up in the Canadian and Alaskan wilderness were rumored to stay wolf, only turning human when absolutely necessary, and even then, only under Bronze Age human practices, even more conservative than the Amish). And don’t get Larry started on the Amish wolves…

Larry bounded down the last ridge. Then air was a bloom, wafts of algae, turtles, and tannin. The small lake fanned out ahead of him. The water was ringed by oak trees. The decades of fallen leaves acted like a tea, dying it all a brackish brown. A person could swim nude, and their modesty completely protected from just an inch below the surface onwards. Larry knew. He’d done it.

At the edge of the water, the wolf lowered his muscular neck and lapped up the water thirstily. He picked up the scent of the tannins, enjoying the natural feel.

Nothing was stirred up in the water; the place had been vacant all day. The surface was almost glass flat.

Strange for a Saturday, Larry noted to himself. This patch was usually full of stinking humans on a day like today, and their jumble of scents should have lingered.

Larry gave some exploratory sniffs at the air, truly concentrating. The wind was downwind from the river. Nothing out of the ordinary, just forest, mud, scat of rabbit and over deer, frogs, various creepy crawlies. It was almost too… no, that just was paranoia, Larry chided himself. He was just riled up by the encounter at Mountain Peaks Gym. Fucking Alpha Toddson.

The wolf sighed. Standing at the edge of the water, his paws sinking into the goosh, he willed himself to stand on two feet. The quads and the glutes and the abs all bloomed as they sent the body erect. Larry gave a small laugh as he noticed his reflection in the almost-still water. The deep grey coat fading away to the white human pelt, flashes of pink and patches of hair emerging. The silhouette soaring skyward, the lats fanning out. Human ears and his thinning thatch of hair replacing the triangular ears. The vulnerable human neck, even as large as Larry’s muscular one, a sharp contrast to his thick and tufty wolven one. The yellow eyes that darted in the water faded to blackness.

Larry gave a shiver, the night breeze giving his plump bare rear and back goosebumps. Looking down at himself in the water, Larry allowed himself a moment of vanity. Fucker got game, he grinned. He’d never been this fit, this swole in his human days. Though Larry had long since given up his attachments to men, he could still recollect some things. Being scrawny had sucked. Praise Luna for finding him. Nothing was better than this body, and the lightning and quicksilver it imbibed.

Clenching his teeth and counting to three, the wolf gave a half-dive into the water gradually deepening water. It was enough of a dive avoid a bellyflop, but only just. Graceful enough, but it did create a splash.

The wolf gave a few gasps of sensation from the cold. Larry hated his human form’s propensity for these exclamations. Humans were the worst chatterboxes. It was a wonder they ever survived before guns and houses and the rest of their nonsense.

The splashes continued, the wolf at ease. Larry churned at the water with his his large, shapely arms. It propelled him out into the deeper waters, about 25 meters offshore. The water was cold, but not too much. It felt glorious running across his shoulders, coursing across his manhood, his sensitive asshole, swirling around his feet. The wolf had a vague sense he’d been something or another as a competitive swimmer in his former life. There was flashes of memory of goggles, of speedos, of a lot of waiting on the side of pools for brief flashes of competition. Who knew? Humans were crazy. Why sit on the side of the water for hours? Why not swim all the time? Larry gave a few wiggles and kicks of delight. It was just wonderful.

That was when he smelled the human.

Larry’s wolf brain when into a panic. Reflexively, he took a breath and dove into the water, heading down about five feet. For all the good that would do him. But the wolf in Larry wanted to hide, and quick. There was no other option.

Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck. Middle of the night, no prior scent. Who the devil was out this late? It wasn’t any human scent he recognized. Nor wolf either.

Maybe a vagrant looking for human trash, or some young kid lovers looking to score. Yeah, that had to be it. Maybe. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Larry came back to the surface quietly, exhaling and inhaling as subtly as he could manage. Some frantic sniffs from his weak pathetic human muzzle. You could barely even sniff a skunk with the thing. But too risky now to shift back. The wolf was not nearly as quiet nor skilled or fast a swimmer, and if he could smell the human, the human likely could see him. Plus, Larry was naked and in the middle of a lake. Exposed, awkward, slow. Fuck.

More sniffs… okay… Male. Virile. Larry treaded water, feeling completely unprotected. What he’d give for a hint of brush, or hell, even his rosebushes at home. Better thorns and scratches to this—being nude in the drink, literally defenseless. More sniffs—it was all Larry could do. Okay… post-pubescent, less than middle aged. Splendid—prime warrior territory. Larry risked bringing his eyes higher, scanning the dark shores. Nothing. More sniffs… Not recently mated with any female. Freshly bathed and clean clothes—drat, easier for his scent to be concealed. And…

Gun oil. Shit. Shit-shit-shit.

Yousef locked up the rear door to Mountain Peaks Gym and walked across the gravel to his car. His legs hurt so so good after the leg day and the evening prayers he’d just concluded. It had been a long day—a full slate of personal training sessions, a couple of “what the fuck” calls to the laundry, cleaning, and HVAC contractors, and a couple of hard decisions on which new exercise machines to buy. He’d stayed late to get through the emails. Soooo many emails.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Yousef would say, say in an interview as a local entrepreneur or a new up-and-coming personal trainer, “these are good problems to have.” Nothing created the need for more decision-making like success. Any more memberships sold, and Mountain Peaks Gym would reach fire code capacity. Planet Fitness had called for the third time to discuss franchising and Yousef’s Instagram had just reached 10,000 followers. Praise Luna and Allah Akbar!

Truthfully, the business and the necessary self-promotion were the only thing keeping this Lebanese American on social media. His family in California and cousins in Beirut were inundating him daily with streams of videos, horribles upon horribles. It was such an awful time over there.

Amidst all the craziness, the gym kept this sweet-natured wolf grounded. This—his business—was something he could control, grow, treasure as his own. Yousef needed that, in this crazy world.

The athletic wolf, as beautiful a specimen as you’d ever find in the world, Old and New, muscles primed, healthy, strong, stunning, full and spry, crunched his Asics over the rocks to his Jeep Compass. The gym bag tossed in the back, the owner shut the trunk and was about to spring into the front when the scent hit him.

Yousef paused, thought a second, and then reached across the drivers’ seat to put his wallet in the glove box. The wolf closed the drivers’ side door, put the keys under a gathering of gravel to the right of the front-right wheel, and then stood back up.

He gave two barks with his human mouth, his lips framed in the trimmed beard giving two “awo awo’s,” a seemingly blameless sound. Something any human staggering by in their constant inexplicable stupors might ignore, or attribute to a coyote.

Thus, an incredibly useful method of signaling for the pack.

Silence. Yousef gave another three barks. “Awo awo awo,” he was more insistent this time. Inshallah…

Three tepid ‘awo’s’ were returned, 11 o’clock, and not that far.

Yousef looked back and forth. He’d learned to appreciate the sharpness of his human eyes, relative to the form he would soon take. Mountain Peaks Gym still relatively rural. The properties on all sides were as of yet undeveloped. But it never hurt to be too cautious, especially after the fiasco at the national park.

Satisfied no humans were near, Yousef stripped. He had little concern for modesty anymore; no wolves do. The caution was for the transformation to come thereafter. Yousef’s shirt, shoes, and socks came easy, each one revealing more swollen muscle, hard won and magical, and curly black body hair in all the right places. The athletic shorts… took a bit of wiggling to get down. The waist band that was comfortable around his trim waist was now a problem across the crest of his glutes. The wolf’s ass really was swelling. Yousef could not help but grin boyishly. The triple leg days really were paying off. This was gonna look so good for Alpha…

Nude, pumped, olive, hairy, Yousef sighed a bit. He savored the nudity. And then the wolf focused on relaxing himself. Just as deep breathing and focus allowed a yogi into ‘Bird of Paradise’ and ‘Dancer’ poses, so too did it allow a smooth transition into the animal guise.

An athletic and lithe wolf emerged. Yousef held a little bit of pride about his wolf. The beast was strong, fast, able to hold its own against his pack members despite his youth. He’d even taken to experimenting with weight training, pulling at the ropes with his teeth, using the boxes and raisers to leap. He’d even been eyeing a working dog’s harness for pulling before Alpha Pete had herded him off.

No wolf wore a harness. Ever.

Falling to all fours, Yousef breathed a bit as the final bones creaked into place and his snout turned his handsome face into a fiercer look. The wolf sprung forward into the undergrowth at the edge of the lot, his muzzle drew in the smell of pine needles, rotting wood, and the evening. The wolf pointedly ignored the smell of the three human bodies buried beneath the gravel. Atop it now were now more than a few heavy and awkward-to-move exercise machines deemed ready for disposal. Yousef was supposed to get around to hiring a contractor to come haul the junked machines away. He would get to that, one of these days. Again, sooo many emails…

Yousef darted through the leaves, looking of his pack brother. The wolf came upon him on the other side of the ridge, sitting dejectedly in a nest of leaves. Wolves make nests from time to time, rudimentary things, enough for a temporary bed.

Yousef barked a greeting. Carlos did not look up.

“Good evening,” Yousef barked again. The pack brother looked awful. Even his whiskers were drooping.

Finally, after more bidding from Yousef, Carlos looked up. “All right already. Yes. Hello.”

“Is it getting any better—”

“No,” Carlos cut him off.

Yousef sighed. He came down and nuzzled at Carlos’ thick and furry neck. He gave some reassuring licks at his pack brothers’ chops. The other wolf was unmoved.

“It will get better,” Yousef said, trying to be bright. He was naturally cheerful, like Arnold, his idol.

Carlos didn’t respond. He looked dejectedly down, resting his head upon his paws.

There was an awkward silence. “What brought you here? To Mountain Peaks? I thought you and Bill were going to leather—” Yousef asked.

“I… I can’t bear to be around all that music, that light… but I didn’t want to alone either” Carlos whispered.

“Maybe a good run will fix things?” Yousef offered. But he knew it wouldn’t. Carlos’ depression had endured for almost the entire month. His mating with Hakim had been a powerful one. Even a jejune wolf like Yourself could detect that.

Carlos did not respond.

“Why are you here? Tell me. Really. It’s not for the company.” Yousef tried a different tactic. “Want to hunt? Remember how you taught me?”

“I don’t trust myself,” Carlos answered after a space. “I don’t trust myself, in the trailer. Alone.”

“Oh…” Yousef nodded.

“Don’t tell Alpha Pete,” Carlos added.

“He’d understand.”

“A wolf doesn’t show weakness.”

“It’s not weakness to ask—”

“You’re just a pup,” Carlos interrupted again.

“Look, Habibi, I’m trying to help,” Yousef responded, getting annoyed by the interruptions.

Carlos moderated his tone. Methodically, he spelled it out. “One day, you will be mated. And then you will understand.”

“I understand loss,” Yousef said. “My family has lost a lot of people. Back in Beirut. A lot over the years.”

“Yes, people,” Carlos waived it off. “But also wolves. You lost Alpha Seth.”

Yousef almost barked at Carlos. People were… well, it was weird to say, ‘people were people too,’ but that was the sentiment the stud (as a man and as a wolf) wanted. Being wolf didn’t mean displacing his own blood from his heart. Yousef had to believe that.

“I never—I never loved Alpha Seth,” Yousef sighed, walking away from Carlos, crunching through the undergrowth. A few paces and he heard the larger wolf behind him get up and start to follow. The wolf smiled inside. At least the conversation was getting him moving. “I’m flattered he liked me. The initial flattery. All of it. But I never—I never encouraged it. I was straight, remember?”

A low groan behind him.

“I was,” Yousef continued, stressing it. Wolves are oriented towards scent more than sight. There was no need for them to stare face to face at each other as they spoke. “I am what I am now. I love what I am,” he gave a legitimate chuckle, relishing the recent memories of ploughing and slaps on his rear. “But I was something else then. And it wasn’t in love with Alpha Seth.”

“He gave up everything for you,” Carlos snuffed. Yousef picked up the pace, and Carlos chuffed as he worked to keep up.

“For all of us,” Yousef said. “I wouldn’t have wanted it to be just me.”

“I wish he’d given me the chance to give up everything,” Carlos panted. “Then I’d be in the park, with Hakim, all the human horridness behind us. And just wolf, wolf, wolf forever more.”

“You don’t mean that,” Yousef and his pack brother crested another ridge. They had a good pace now. Down into the gully ahead of them, leaping across a stream, and up the next. And then…

Yousef hadn’t intended it, but the vantage point at the top gave them a view of the borders of the national park. Being in proximity to it raised so many alarm bells in Yousef’s wolf brain. It was a black hole of scent—nothing, not a molecule, came from that direction. Every instinct in him urged avoidance. This. Was. Not. A. Good. Place.

Yousef understood intellectually what was occurring—the sealing smell meant for kitchens and refuse cans rendered on a grand scale, with the sacrifice of Alpha Seth’s humanity keeping it going into perpetuity, forever-full moon for him and the twenty or so wolves that once formed Haig’s and Scheider’s pack. Including Hakim.

“Man, they must be driving Alpha Seth bonkers,” Yousef tried to lighten the mood.

“A ward of coma patients would drive Alpha Seth bonkers,” Carlos replied. They shared a chuckle. Yousef was glad to see Carlos smile at last.

They stared at the national park lands for a moment more. Then Carlos turned. “I can’t bear to look at it. It hurts too much.”

“I’m sure it hurts a lot,” Yousef nodded.

Carlos gave a growl. “ ‘I’m sure’… thanks, Yousef.”

“I… I meant.”

“Imagine laying on a blanket with your beloved, watching the clouds roll by. Then someone ripping the sky away like a bedsheet, leaving only starless night.”

Yousef got up too and trotted with Carlos a bit. Soon, they met a natural fork in their paths, one way to the trailer park, the other to the state route and Mountain Peaks Gym.

Yousef was a little reluctant to split. “Carlos… if it ever gets… if it ever gets too bad… you’ll tell me?”

Carlos was silent.

“Promise me.”

Carlos sighed. “I promise. By Luna’s light I promise.”

“Inshallah.”

“Dios te salve María, llena eres de gracía,” Carlos replied. Yousef looked over. Carlos winked.

“Promise me in return?” Carlos asked.

“Sure,” Yousef nodded.

“Don’t say you used to be straight so much. It’s like a college student still wearing his high school letter jacket on the quad.”

Yousef looked ahead. “I… I’m not ashamed to be wolf.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I just don’t want to let go of everything I used to be. The things that made me Yousef.”

“It’s not letting go. It’s becoming something more,” Carlos closed it out, and then dashed off.

Yousef continued on his way back to Mountain Peaks’ back lot. By his car, he paused, ready to change back, squeeze his growing, spankable rear into the shorts, and head home.

But he paused a second. Still in wolf form, he looked up at the spray of stars across the night sky. Luna was waxing again, not even a week away from her special night.

Yousef tried to think of something to say. He never prayed for himself, at least not to Allah. His baba had always forbidden that. If you’re talking to Allah, he already knows you, Yousef remembered the lectures. Raise the flag for someone else. Yousef gave a few sniffs, reassuring himself of his gym, his car, his clothes. His. The muscular wolf transitioned into a muscular man, as beautiful as the zenith of Michaelangelo’s and Leonardo’s creations. He gave a small bow of his head and closed his eyes.

“Dear Lady. I hope you’re listening. Please give my friend strength.”

The man, in dark clothing, was at the shoreline as Larry swam back, holding a darting flashlight. After the initial wave of recognition, Larry didn’t look at the man, focusing on his strokes and breathing. He seemed to recall being a champ at this in his human life. It got a little fuzzy when he tried to get specifics. He probably had fun; it sure sounded like fun. Maybe there was a yearbook someplace he could find…

Closer to shore, Larry’s human foot touched wretchedly cold mud, and he stood up, breathing in as his chest hoisted itself upwards the pecs and nipples now goose-bumping in the cold air.

The observer was taller, fair haired. In a dark jacket with some kind of patch or badge. The light was too poor to see much more detail. Plus the intermittent blinding of that damn flashlight. Larry flinched as a strong beam dazzled him.

“You all right, Sir?” the man asked, in an authoritative tone.

Cool it, copper, Larry thought in his mind. This guy was definitely a boy in blue. Weren’t they all, these days? Larry lamented.

Cranky that his swim was interrupted and at least that he was not in immediate risk of being snared, Larry figured he’d fuck with the guy. The wolf continued walking up into the shallows, his chest, then waist, and then junk on full, unashamed display. The lake now lapped around him, mid-quad. The water cascaded off his manhood.

“What the!” the man took a trepidations step back. Larry squinted; the stupid flashlight was still blinding him, a menacing Tinkerbell. “You—you shouldn’t be out here, swimming at night alone, sir.”

“Quit the light,” Larry grouched in return, shielding his eyes with his vein-laced forearms, his musculature on full display.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to get out of the lake and get your clothes on,” the man barked, gathering himself. The silhouette was clearly annoyed that Larry had not done so already.

It was cold, so Larry obliged. He sauntered (just a bit of a swagger) up onto the exposed roots and clay of the lakeshore. “You’re a long way from the road, buddy,” he said, coming up closer to the cop, getting a better look at him. Still no scent that he could remember. Out-of-towner. But the fucker was handsome, Larry gave a mental whistle. Blond hair, nice face, athletic body… for a mortal.

“Sir, this area’s off limits. Active law enforcement investigation. Didn’t you see the trail signs?”

Not when you don’t use the trails, Larry thought. “I didn’t see jack.” Tinkerbell returned. “Put the fucking flashlight away!”

The tall officer blinked. Larry took note; Car 54 here wasn’t used to taking orders. Now, as the wolf’s eyes rapidly recovered their night vision and the overwhelming smell of the lake itself dulled, Larry could see he was in a mess. Here on the short, there was the smell of dog—everywhere. Further into the woods, one layer of foliage in, he could smell stirred up mud, hound dander, and the B.O. of at least seven distinct men. Piling on top of that were the sounds: the galumphing and squelching of men’s boots and the sweeping sniffing of what were probably bloodhounds. It was all upwind of the lake too, making the sound and smell harder to detect. Rats.

“Looking for what?” Larry clambered up the embankments of the lake. This officer was really too uptight for his own good. So freshly bathed, the smell of soap stung Larry’s nose. But amidst the soap, a smell. Something.

“Sir,” the officer protested, flashlight down, but now actively avoiding his eyes from Larry’s nudity. “I’m gonna have to ask you to put your clothes on,” he repeated, as if it would elicit a different response after the first failure.

Larry sniffed. Sniff… sniff. Sniff. Ah Ha! Larry grinned despite himself. Arousal. He grinned wider. Nice.

“Clothes are on the other side of the lake,” Larry lied, giving a nod behind him. The officer looked incredulous, his eyes dancing between glances at the junk, the far lake shore, then Larry’s pecs, and then back at the junk..

Larry put his hands on his hips, and not-at-all subtly flexed his pecs, arms, the whole bit. His Johnson and balls swung like a pendulum, as was the wolf’s intention. The lake water dripped down his chest and trunk, rivers coursing down his legs alongside the pronounced his pronounced veins.

“Sir, I need you to…” the officer was pained to continue.

“What’re y’all searching for?” the nude wolf asked, completely unashamed and peacocking a bit, as much as he could get away with. The officer was off his game now; time to gather intelligence on this intruder to the pack’s domain.

“Missing park ranger. Two missing police officers. Three missing out-of-state visitors,” the officer chanted, getting back into his comfort zone. “We’re doing canine sweeps to see if they’re buried in the region.”

Yikes, Larry thought, keeping his face stoic. Hitting close to home.

“And it’s a lot of resources and approvals and focus to perform these things,” the officer continued. “We need you to depart back on the trail and not disrupt. Where the hell are your clot—”

“Sorry to hear it,” Larry said, keeping the conversation going. “That’s a lot of dogs. But they’re just missing, right?” What did the law know?”

“Missing person case still, but the longer we go, the more likely it’s a death.”

“Doubt you’ll find anything around here,” Larry said, shaking his head. “Lake’s always been peaceful. Every time I come here, very peaceful. Perfect for…” he stretched out his arms, seemingly blameless but totally hamming it up with his nudity. “Communing with nature.”

“You come here—“ the lawman swallowed. He reached for his flashlight again, almost a comfort blanket. Under his navy-blue jacket, no adornment besides an “FBI” batch on the upper right. When the jacket parted, Larry could see the firearm and its holster, cuffs, tool kit, knife, radio, the whole bit. Guy wasn’t playing. The dogs continued to sniff.

And then, the wind shifted, coming downwind off the lake, coursing over Larry’s wet corners and curves, and into the lawmen and the forest behind him. Sending his scent into the dogs, at point-blank range. Shit.

The bloodhounds started hollering bloody murder. The men at the other end of the leashes could be heard cursing, sweat, and angst now filling the forest.

“Uh, name’s Larry,” the wolf held out his hand, suddenly all business, eager to get this over with.

“…” the lawman blinked, trying to find words, but failing. H was disturbed by the barking dogs and by this weird unapologetically naked man in front of him. Nudity in public was, the law enforcement officer’s experience, usually coupled with extreme inebriation, erratic behavior, psychiatric breaks. But this civilian was as cool as a cucumber. The FBI agent didn’t like it. But reflexively, because his mama had raised him right too, the officer held out his hand as well.

The two shook. And shook.

And shook.

Larry did not let go. Wow, he was enjoying this. Guy was completely aroused. Closet case? Maybe. A mondjugen? Possibly.

The lawman was getting agitated. Arousal streamed into Larry’s nose.

“I think I should go get my clothes,” Larry finally said, barely suppressing a grin.

“I think you should,” the lawman nodded, getting back into familiar territory.

“Cause I’m not wearing any right now,” Larry continued to shake, his other hand giving a small gesture at his body.

“Yeah,” the lawman breathed. He looked down. He didn’t look away.

Larry was satisfied. There it was—the smell of pubes, of musk, barreling out. Took him long enough. Wasn’t enough soap in the world to cover up a man’s arousal.

“Take care, officer,” Larry finally let go. He turned to go, and hopped back down the roots and clay, and entered the lake with splashes around his ankles.

“Sir, you should take the lake path around,” the lawman tried to protest. “It’s the middle of the night and it’s not safe to—”

“Oh, it’s plenty safe,” Larry stayed in the lake, his body facing away, his amazingly muscular ass on full display. “So safe I’m back here every week. All on my lonesome. Communing with—” he gave his own ass a smack, the muscles giggling. “Nature.” He started walking in the water, knowing his paler skin was stark against the black surface. “Come join me next time, next time you’re searching for something.”

With that, the wolf gave another dive into the water and was headed off.

The show of skin, the showing off, it has all been a bit of a survival exercise, a diversion. But now Larry had some intel for the pack about law enforcement amping up their searches for Alpha Seth, Mullins, Zach and his cousins. This complicated everything. And an aroused law enforcement officer Larry bet he could wrap around his little paw. A small consolation, but Larry would take what he could get.

He made at across the lake in record time, darted into the nearest bushes he could locate, and went back to his wolf form. With great haste; the blood hounds were yelping from across the lake still, practically frothing at the mouth. Larry headed into the dense woods. He needed to get to Alpha Pete.

Bill grinned. The dance floor was a mess of human musk, body odor, and sticky spilt drinks. The lights flashed neon, and the bass was turned way up. It was Leather Night.

It had been six months since Bill had last gone. That one night he and Carlos had been sent to fetch sneaky Seth—Alpha Seth, he corrected himself. They’d stayed late and really pissed off Alpha Pete, Bill inadvertently smiled.

Bill had inherited Alpha Seth’s leather harness, and tonight was its first night out.

And it was a boys-night-out! Daniel, the busboy from Xochitl’s diner (finally!! A name, Bill’s eyes were wet with victory), had come, and Mullins. The Chief was still considered missing, but some borrowed black jeans and a plain black tank (not the Chief’s usual style), a cheap fake barbed wire tattoo around his bulging biceps, and a leather hood over his face (holes for the mouth, nose, and eyes), and Mullins was as good as gold.

“So I’ve been here about a year now,” Daniel explained, everything at a higher volume to get through the loud music.

“Glad you moved here!” Mullins shouted back.

“What?” Daniel laughed a bit, shouting back as well.

“Glad you moved here. It’s great land.”

“Yeah, land!” Daniel nodded back, not quite getting it.

“Envy of any pack,” Mullins shouted back, leaning into Daniel’s ear. He’d had a few More than a few.

“What?” Daniel called back. The music was so damn loud.

“Any pack!” Mullins said back.

“The what?” Danile called back, genuinely confused.

Bill got in between the two. “I think it’s best we don’t discuss “business!” he shouted into Mullin’s ear, and then stared him down.

Mullin’s hooded face was still able to convey confusion. But then his eyes lightened. “Ah, yes,” he played it cool. “No work tonight!”

They both eyed Daniel, who was downing his second vodka cran and didn’t seem at all disturbed. Bill shook his head, and Mullins mouthed “okay.”

Bill had not exactly told Daniel about the status of his two bar-mates.

Bill needed this dance. He raised his sleeve tattooed arms upwards and really started moving to the beat. The poor thing needed to dance off the stress, and the dread he felt for seeing Alpha Toddson in one week’s time, under Luna’s light. The wolf knew he shouldn’t let it get to him. Alpha Toddson’s time with him was over; he’d joined Alpha Pete fair and square, and lived with the fucker now, to boot.

No need to dwell on it a second further. Shakira was playing and the dance floor got noticeably more energetic.

Together, Forever…

and for that infinite, ungraspable moment, it was true.

Drinks were poured. Doubles ordered. Shots… something, something.

The music got brighter, the lights louder. Whatever DJ they’d brought in from Capital City was true master. Bill suspected he may well be supernatural.

No matter now. The three men soon found themselves in a threesome. The bathroom staff was impossibly small for all three, making it perfect. Mullins was the most muscular of all; he sat on the toilet seat, while the smaller Bill and the much smaller Daniel clambered on top of him, balancing precariously on his lap as they attached his mouth, nipples, and neck. The three went at it for twenty minutes, moaning unashamedly, the stainless streel walls barely maintaining their integrity. Bill, Daniel, and an incredibly horny Mullins alternatively made out and exchanged head. All threes’ flies were open, their cocks and balls flopped out, flushed, hard as steel. Mullins’ hands possessively and energetically pawed at the two others assess, back muscles, and slipped in between their legs.

To Bill and Mullins, the stall was a soup smells: bitter pre-cum, sweat, ass slick, spit, and cleaning solution. Daniel was too poppered up to have any smell at all. He was no mondjugen (inquiries…) but he was without doubt a ‘mo.

“Fucking hot,” Daniel panted.

“Keep going,” Bill directed, snapping his finger behind his pack.

The busboy grunted gutturally, and his hips started thrusting, swaying, stirring all the more. His smile grew more dumb.

Mullins grinned, savoring the naughtiness. In escapist glee, he pawed possessively at everything he could get a hold of. Wolfhood had brought him many things, but the sensation of being 19 years old, sloppy and carefree, at the club was still a surprise. His arms almost infinitely strong in comparison to his weak and feeble human days, Mullins lifted a gasping Daniel upwards. The Latino squirmed and panted, a little bit surprised, even in his drunkenness, to be raised up off the floor.

“Come for me,” the masked Chief directed, and then brought Daniel towards his mouth, swallowing the hard Latin cock whole, his muscular arms flexing expertly, barely even shaking. Mullins thrilled to thrash his tongue over and under the pulsing cock. A rehearsal of sorts, Mullins smiled around Daniel’s member. Soon he’d have his mondjugen forever…

“Christ!” Daniel threw his head back, his hands gripping Mullins’ head as the chief’s cookie duster moustache pressed into the Latin boy’s bush and the suck when into inhuman overdrive. Bill grinned, sweaty and aroused. This could go anywhere. He snapped his fingers, sloppily casting some novel spells to keep the fun going, to ensure the mortal’s endurance held, that his horniness didn’t wane. Xochitl hadn’t been careful with the spell books she’d allowed him to peek at. Praise Luna… This was going to be a good night.

Author’s note: Hello, wolf brothers. Keep the feedback coming. Receiving a lot of thoughtful messages (both here on the website and via DM’s. It means a lot to know my work is keeping your interest. Ideas, praise, and thoughtful critiques very much welcomed as we see the pack move into autumn. This chapter was particularly tricky to write. I want to keep the action and sex coming, but needed to introduce some things with some subtlety. Did it work? Cheers, gents!

FBI Agent Allen (Al) Braithwaite, investigating the disappearances of mafiosos (Zach’s cousins) in the region, and also trying to find himself.

Barb, proud bull dyke Chief of Police, taking over for the AWOL Mullins. Deadly serious about her profession, but not without a wry sense of humor.

Yousef was heading into Mountain Peaks to deliver a personal training sessions with silver fox Frank when his phone beeped. A text came in from Alpha Pete. Yousef blinked at it come it just to him, and not the pack text chain.

Yus. I need you to pick up a line of heavy-duty chain. 50 yards should do it. Go to my construction wholesaler. Directions in next text. Tell them chemically treated for enhanced strength and durability, suitable for high-tension construction use. Tell Bud that Townsend sends his regards. Piggy bank’s yours when you return.

Who the fuck is Townsend? Yousef thought. Then a second text came in: a link to the wholesaler website, and directions. And a third.

Get a receipt, pup. Trust but verify—Alpha P.

Yousef couldn’t help but smile. He looked at his smart phone’s clock. He’d need to hurry if he was going to get to the Luna rendezvous in time.

Larry shifted their beat-up Cherokee into a lower gear as they rounded the last turn. He stared forward, keeping his mount shut. If he looked to his right where his mate was nursing his still-torn ear, the wolf would get enraged all over again. And they couldn’t afford that right now. Not tonight.

Larry had come to find a porch stinking of their Alpha’s urine and Tom’s blood, and his poor beloved inside with a hastily bandaged ear.

All thought about the police / canine units sweeping the woods, and the strange lustful officer that had caught him naked in the lake… it all fell away like dust. Larry rushed to Tom’s side, crooning.

Had the torn ear come from the hand of a human, that wretched creature would now no longer draw breath. Even at the hand of another wolf, Larry would exact infinite justice.

But this injury came from their own Alpha, in service of pack discipline. The harm enraged Larry. Indeed, he soon afterward needed to pace the woods around their house in wolf form, growling and barking, urinating on every tree to ward off visitors and flush out the roosting turkeys and grouse in the trees. No sense anyone else being comfortable in their midst.

But Larry could do nothing more. Tom had questioned and disrespected their Alpha (“I mean really,” Larry seethed, “you used his full name?”). And this was the result.

But Larry didn’t have to like it. Or forget it.

The Cherokee zoomed over the next hill, the G-forces so strong, all three wolves and the mondjugen in the car felt their testicles rise for a moment of suspended gravity.

The wolf Mullins was in the back. He’d had an awesome Leather night and had been riding that high until now. And soon, his mondjugen would join the pack, and all would be well.

Zach was next to him, in a daze. A sock (one of Tom’s, used) was stuffed in his mouth. The pack had not needed to resort to chains or irons during the mondjugen’s captivity. A succession of well-used jocks, bandanas, and sweat towels kept the AWOL precinct rookie good and poppered up. The man had not exactly been conscious since he’d been brought to the cabin, but it was hardly a kidnapping. Or so the wolves reassured themselves.

It was Mullins who brought a passed-out blood-stained kid to Tom and Larry’s cabin. Thinking fast, they brought him down into the cellar and fashioned a nest of sorts out of some old sleeping bags. Tom tended to the mondjugen while Larry drew out the Chief’s story. The threatening cousins had been mauled to death, Zach knocked out (for his own good, Mullins panted, pantomiming a pistol-whipping).

They’d called up Alpha Pete, and the pack went to work. Mullins was sequestered to the cabin. Luckily, Carlos’s access card to the precinct still worked, and Alpha Pete and he were able to get rid of the evidence, physical and electronic. And then they’d waited. Zach was to become wolf; he couldn’t be trusted as a human after seeing his own brethren butchered in front of him. Ready or not, he was destined to become wolf this very night.

Larry kept his focus on the road. He’d never taken this route before. Since the close-off of the national park to contain Haig, Schreider, and their beloved Alpha Seth, the pack’s usual clearing for gatherings was also lost to them. The spot this month, as pre-agreed by Alphas Pete and Toddson, was near the southwest of the pack’s shrunk-to-a-fifth territory. An honest-to-God summer camp, just recently closed for the season. Part of it was still wooded, if you ignored the scraps of the campers’ crafts and the remnants of the used condoms of the counselors. It would have to do.

Zach was snoring in the back. Mullins patted him reassuringly.

Tom and Larry knew of the pending trade-off. Again, it was Alpha Pete’s call. There was nothing to be done about it. Zach was a good kid, and he had a bright future ahead of him in wolfhood. It just wouldn’t be with their pack. The peace must be kept.

Such was the lot of wolves.

“We almost there?” Mullins asked. He opened the window slightly, sniffing the night air. “I… there’s more than just us tonight?” Larry and Tom gave a sniff, and sensed Alpha Toddson’s pack in short distance ahead, and the exhaust of Alpha Pete’s Jeep.

“Alpha’s got some things to brief out,” Larry said, staring straight ahead. He reached to his right and placed a firm and protective hand on Tom’s quads. The wolf squeezed it reassuringly. The mate’s hand came out and put it atop Larry’s.

The Cherokee came to a stop in the campground parking lot, right next to the swing set. Tom cleared his throat and gave some cautionary sniffs from his own car window. Wolves abounded. And no campers. His clothes were already beginning to tighten. Luna beckoned.

“You want to know how it’s going?” Chief of Police Brewer (“call me Barb”) extolled, exasperated. “I got three missing persons, two officers and a police chief missing-in-action, likely KIA, including my predecessor, I might add, and one AWOL officer, and an AWOL U.S. Park Ranger. A potential compromised security system for the precinct and the county offices, and a dispatch booth that stinks like piss. That’s how it’s going,”

Agent Braithwaite winced.

“Well, you did ask,” the proud bull dyke said wryly, the keys around her lanyard jangling like a windchime as she flagged for a server. She took a sip of her unsweetened iced tea. The diner was largely empty around them. Just the owner, a short Latina woman, a few murmuring night-owls, and a fidgety busboy.

Braithwaite had called the meeting, asking for a one-on-one. The investigation was encountering both dead ends and strange clues. It was still going in circles.

“You sure you placed the three syndicate members here in town?” Barb pressed. Sarcasm aside, she cared deeply about law and order.

“Standing warrant on their smart phones places them here,” Braithwaite confirmed. “All in a group, in the vicinity of the precinct. The leads’ FitBit gives us the time and place when his heartbeat stops. But then it’s all gone. Along with Chief Mullins and Officer D’Ambrosio. And the others.”

“With the security footage from the rear of the building gone,” Barb sighed. “I’ve filled out more police reports and internal audit statements than you could possibly believe.”

“I believe it,” the FBI agent nodded. They were both being cool as cucumbers, as much as they needed one another. “I wanted to go over something you’d mentioned,” Al opened his phone, and scrolled down from of the notes he’d scanned. “You said Chief Mullins was looking and acting strange. Looking?”

“He was separated from his wife, acting like a textbook addict in my view,” Barb nodded. “Erratic in our working group meetings, making weird excuses for the Park Ranger being held for a bizarre murder charge that came and went. That’s when I made my first internal reports.”

“Yeah, but you said ‘looking.’ What did you mean by that?”

“Oh…” Barb nodded. “Guy was just exploding with muscle. When I see guys like that, it’s got to be some kind of seriously illegal gear.”

“Significant increase in muscle…” Al typed it into his notes.

“His wife said so too in the separation filing,” Barb nodded. Her intense hazel eyes lit up. “Have you cross-referenced his phone and home IP address against any recent seizures of HGH or the anabolic stuff? You never know…”

“The Bureau does not comment on active investigations,” Al shook his head.

“Hey fed, you called me,” the bull dyke raised a finger, and not her pointer. The new chief gave as good as she got.

“Yeah,” Al said, feeling tired. This case was so weird, but all the leads went no place. All the canine sweeps were turning up nothing. No witnesses, no new evidence. The movements and finances of every officer in the precinct had been swept, up, down, sideways, and back again. Most were clean, dull even. A few DUIs and domestic violence complaints, but that was par for the course.

But there was the weird hiring of men named Peter Townsend and Carlos Bernal, both of whom were now incredibly difficult to locate. Adding that on top of the missing mafia, their cousin Zach, and the Chief himself. There was too much hanging in the air to call this a cold case. They just needed to find a new angle, find a weakness in some witness.

Talking it through with the other law enforcement officer gave Al a few more ideas. Barb headed out with a handshake and a promise to keep in touch. The bull dyke really did know her stuff, Al nodded. He was glad to have the ally.

The agent stayed for one more cup of coffee. Now what about the missing park ranger, this Seth McBride character, and the weird arrest? A murder charge without a victim… not even a named alleged victim… he’d need to check on the record of that arrest and jailing…

“Another refill?”

Al blinked and looked up. The busboy, a Latin kid, was at his side. His eyes looked… hungry.

“Sure,” Al nodded. He gave the man a once-over. Young man was hot.

The busboy smiled and stared Al back directly as he slowly refilled the thick white mug. Daniel gave a subtle smirk. “Glad to be of service. But careful, Sir. I might just end up keeping you here all night… one refill at a time.”

Al blinked, surprised. The busboy licked his lip quickly, and then turned, walking away. Al swore he saw the busboy swayed his hip a bit—nope, that was definitely a hip swap. The busboy stopped, about to enter the kitchen. He looked back at Al. And winked. What the…

Not that Al was offended. His feelings about guys were… well, complicated. Even today, when everyone was accepting of everything. No, he preferred to stay strait-laced. The Bureau rewarded ‘Ward and June Cleaver’ behavior, even if it was no longer explicit. Still… Al leaned over, watching the busboy as he buzzed between the kitchen and the servers’ station. He had it going on all right. What was one more cup?… Al took a deep sip.

Both packs were on edge. None had yet transformed; the danger of fighting was too great at this stage. Some were fullly stripped, others just shirtless. Amidst the wariness, curious eyes spied pumped muscles, pert pecs, cute butts. The pack brothers whispered slyly to one another, speculating which they’d scent, or be scented by. The changes were coming, but there was still time. Time for taunting.

“So few,” Nando called out. He ripped off his t-shirt, hands gripping the fabric at his heart, and then tearing outwards. One fluid movement and he was nude from the waist up. Amazing musculature, accompanying that bad boy look he pulled off so well. “Is that your whole pack, or did the pups stay home for their nap?”

“Fuck off, pendejo,” Carlos spat back. He shucked off his own shirt, revealing his full pecs, and enormous shoulders. His loneliness notwithstanding, Carlos showed up when it counted.

“¡No me llames pendejo, cabeza de mierda!” Nando barred his teeth. Sharp and pointy, his human mouth began to bulge.

Praise Luna, Carlos nodded, the transformations were starting. At least it would get that hothead to shut up. Nando was one to watch out for, the Carlos nodded. Alpha Toddson had made him his second for the alpha meeting earlier in the month, meaning Nando had his lord’s trust. And he was quick and alert, a born hunter. His accent was Colombian, Carlos could tell. It didn’t matter that much to the were, but Carlos’s Mexican pride was one of the few things from his mortal existence he’d held on to.

The wolves continued to eye each other warily as they gathered and progressively stripped, peacocking and winking, half menacingly, half a super-charged flirtation. Carlos caught wind of the exhaust from Larry and Tom’s Cherokee. Needed an oil change, he sniffed. Looking back, he say Alpha Pete go to greet them as it pulled up, and then the pack leader’s odd command for them to repark closer to his Wrangler. Tom and Mullins had to get out on the drivers’ side, the vehicles were huddled that close. Alpha’s orders.

Carlos’s cherry red F-150 was right on the other side. Alpha Pete had been particular about the close proximity of Carlos too. No matter. Carlos unbuckled his belt and shimmied out of his pants. Alpha Pete gave a whistle behind him. Carlos gave a vigorous shake of his callipygian rear. Still got it, he smiled to himself. If only Hakim could see him now… then Carlos sighed.

He tossed his clothes and shoes into the bed of his F-150. Still largely in human form, the wolf got down on all fours anyway. Carlos wanted to feel closer to the Earth. Getting his hands into the familiar dirt would help his wolf assert itself. Carlos craved the simplicity of his animal side’s outlook. The human emotions of mourning, loss, love… it was just too heavy sometimes.

Behind him, Alpha Pete took a last second to admire the wolf’s amazing ass, just beginning to fur-over. Carlos’s sexy feet were displayed as they started to extend into haunches. But only for a second. They needed to take care of business. The gigantic man paced a bit. Yousef was late.

“Mondjugen’s all ready, Sir,” Mullins came up, excited. “Still in the Cherokee for now. He’s gonna such make a great wolf.”

“That he will,” Alpha Pete said distracted, playing it cool. He sniffed the air. Don’t fail me, Yus…

Alpha’s nostrils flared. Fuck yes… Yousef’s Compass was close. With that relief, he realized he had been wringing his hands. The knuckles were already densely forested with fur.

“Don’t worry, Alpha,” Mullins nodded at the worry. “Zach’s strong. He’ll do fine.”

“I got a task for you, Chief,” Alpha Pete stated then. “Help Yousef unload his cargo.”

“Sir!” Mullins ran around the back as Yousef parked, and then reparked as his Alpha directed him to pull in closer, all cosey with the other vehicles, the back hatches in a line, facing the clearing. Yousef jumped out, and he and Mullins stripped, leaving their duds on the hood of the Compass. No sense getting clothes dirty. The two put their muscles to work, lugging out the long line of heavy silver chain onto the already-dewy grass.

Looking on from the side, the still-clothed Tom and Larry’s eyed widened, but they stayed silent. Alpha Toddson and his pack looked on from the other side of the clearing. The Alpha in particular looked confused so a second, but then nodded. He stayed silent and shushed two or three of his brethren who pointed and whispered.

Mullins was talking a mile a minute as he and his pack brother Yousef unrolled the line of chain, running it back and forth from the clearing and back to the vehicles four times. “Zach’s gonna make us all so proud. I’ve known since he joined up with the force. Praise Luna, I cannot wait.” His muscles danced, his eyes excited. His mondjugen was coming home at last. “Zach is—”

“Silence,” Alpha Pete barked. His beard was beginning to itch. He could feel the coat tufting out on his shoulders, his neck filling. Mullins had a beard too, and his eyebrows had grown together. Yousef’s thick curly black chest hair had spread to his entire body now. Real furball, that one, Alpha Pete looked on admiringly.

“Sir,” the Chief bowed his head. Alpha knew best.

It pained Alpha Pete to do this, it truly did, but it was best for the pack. “On all fours,” Alpha Pete ordered. “Yousef, get back with your brothers.”

Mullins looked up in slight confusion. But yes, Alpha knew best. The muscley furball retreated, light as a squirrel. The muscular police chief got down on his knees. “Stay,” Alpha Pete barked, and then walked around him. The pack member groaned as his shoulders broadened and his trunk filled out, his wolfhood really asserting himself. The scents of the forest, of the two mingling packs bloomed inside his growing snout. Mullins could hear a little clinking of metal back at the Wrangler, out of sight.

After a moment, Mullins looked around in confusion. The earth was bringing out his changes. His hands were fanning out, his palms turning pad, his claws so sharp…

It was when Mullins’ hands turned fully into paws that he felt his Alpha’s hands around his neck. The wolf growled in happiness as his Alpha petted and massaged his traps and neck. He loved the attention.

Then the snap and the cinch. Alpha Pete buckled the collar closed.

“What the fuck!?” Mullins hollered. He tried to bend his head around to see the device. He almost tripped over the chains that trailed off from it, the metal links jangling. “Alpha!” the chief tried to reach for the collar. But alas, the human arms and hands were no more. The beast, not yet fully a wolf but certainly no longer a man, barked and chuffed at the collar and chain.

“Got ya, pup,” Alpha Pete attached the last of the chains to Carlos’s F-150. The Chief’s collar now had four leads, shackling him to the hitches of the Compass, Wrangler, Cherokee, and Carlos’s sweet, sweet cherry red. That would just about do it.

Tom and Larry were both now fully bearded. Larry standing protectively in front of his mate as Alpha Pete drew near, circling the perimeter. The Alpha noted the hostility. That would need tending too as well. All threes’ tails flared out at the same time. Larry’s waved his warningly. All in good time, Alpha Pete nodded. He fell forward onto all fours. His hips could not hold him upright anymore. Larry and Tom opened their shirts and pants, and practically leapt out them: two giant wolves, panting, pacing.

“Hurry it up!” Alpha Toddson could be heard barking from the other side of the clearing. His voice was deeper, almost inhuman. The changes were coming on rapidly.

“Alpha!” Mullins barked, jerking hard against his chains. His wolf instincts were asserting themselves, and a restraint was never welcome to a wolf. “Whaz guin uhn? Alphaaaaaaarnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!” And then Mullins was full wolf, a blur of snaps and jerks. The animal began to rebel full on, righting the restraint like the devil.

Carlos, Tom, and Larry all lowered their ears. Yousef sniffed the air in confusion.

“Fetch the Mondjugen,” Alpha Pete said, his voice increasingly husky.

Zach was tumbled out of the back of the Cherokee, blindfolded with a “Mountain Peaks Gym” branded bandana. The man was still in a daze, a fresh jock of Mullins’ newly stuffed in his mouth. The mondjugen looked none the worse for wear after a month of captivity. A little smelly, a little pale, a little hungry, but all that would soon be remedied.

Behind them, the wolf on the chain wailed and growled angrily. The chains jerked angrily. The Wrangler, the lightest of the vehicles was drug forward five inches until the chain became as taunt as the other three.

“Such a beautiful mondjugen,” Alpha Todd extolled, as all but the chained wolf approached the center of the clearing, the human stumbling amongst the wolves that herded him forward. “And such beautiful land.” He waved about at the beautiful stands of ash, oak, and cottonwoods around them. “Take good care of it for me.”

Alpha Pete bristled. “We have a deal,” he nodded at the mondjugen. Zach coughed a bit into the gag and moaned passively.

“Yes, to stay off your territory while you hold it,” Alpha Toddson nodded. He shrugged off his button down and folded the garment onto one the campfire circle’s benches. Bare-chested, he continued while he fumbled with his belt. The claws made it hard. “But you won’t hold it forever.” He finally unbuckled and spread open his pants. He’d be able to wiggle out of the rest without too much trouble.

Alpha Pete narrowed his eyes from his all fours-stance but was stoic. “What? Am I supposed to sit by and allow vacant land right on my doorstep go unclaimed?” All around them, human chatter ceased, and animalistic grunts rose.

Alpha Toddson acted with faux exasperation, falling himself to all fours. He sighed with satisfaction as his paws asserting themselves, knuckles cracking in the process. “Greedy, greedy, seeking to continue your claim on land we both know you’ll have to abandon soon enough.”

“No decisions yet,” Alpha Pete said. It was getting difficult to talk. “And until and if we decide to pick up stakes, our deal stands.” Alpha Pete coughed then, deeply. Coming up for air, he gasped, his teeth now decidedly sharper. The Alpha grunted, exhaling a larger amount of air than any human could ever manage. “Swear upon Luna.”

Alpha Toddson shook his head, his wolfy man unfurling. “I promish, woof.”

Behind each Alpha, all were stripped, and all wolf.

“Bing fowahd da mondjugen,” Alpha Pete barked. His muzzle asserted itself. There was no more discussion. For there were no more in the clearing who could speak. Just a baker’s dozen of wolves and a gagged dazed man.

Luna’s light broke over the forest clearing. And then their minds were gone.

“Fuck! Give it to me! Deeper!” Daniel called out, banging his head against the metal wall. It echoed against the storeroom. The towers of cardboard boxes, napkins, packets of sugar, and creamers swayed. “You got it in ya, stud!” He grimaced at his back pressing against the lances of the wall’s metal.

Al grunted, a self-satisfied grin framing his ruddy face, covered in beads of sweat. He was still clothed, his pants unbuttoned, his shirt unbuttoned. Sweat soaked his front, his shoulders, the front of his pants. The busboy was in his arms, legs up over his shoulders, pressed against the wall as the agent pile drove into the slut’s bussy. Jesus Christ! This was hot.

This was absolutely not Al’s style. He usually kept his attractions limited to some online porn, or the network of fellow FBI agents he knew who enjoyed the pleasures of male company, and the mantra ‘I won’t tell if you won’t,’ and each meant it.

But this kid’s come-ons had be hot, heavy, cleaver and cutting. Once the owner had departed for the night, leaving Daniel to lock up, Al was a goner. The flirting had been so heavy, Al grew hard in his seat. He’d put his hand over the busboy’s when check receipt came for signing. Daniel offered the storeroom.

What he hadn’t expected was the number of rounds they’d go. Al groaned out his ecstasy with orgasm number three, leaning into Daniel’s shoulder, panting. There was so much sweat on the busboy’s olive skin, the FBI agent was practically blowing bubbles. Daniel panted encouragement, gripping onto Al’s cheeks with iron-clad power. “More!” the busboy brayed. His entire body quivered as he rapid-fire panted, his head rolling through the sensations. “More!”

Those words… Al gasped, feeling the power, the volume, the yearning burbling up in his balls. He whipped the sweat off his forehead, more immediately beading after the swipe. Clutching to him, not wanting to be put down, Daniel panted readily, insistently, desperately. The busboy craned his legs around the top’s ass, and drew him in closer, the cock absolutely not at all allowed to leave his hole.

Wow, Al sighed. He laughed. He didn’t know from where, but hot damn, he had it in him. Round number four, coming up.

The wolves, shoulders bulging, noses panting, tongues wagging, paced in a large circle. Clockwise, as was Luna’s will. There were a baker’s dozen all together, snapping and growling at one another. Powerful jaws leading to muscular necks to powerful chests, to tails trashing so quickly they whistled. They fur glinted silver in Luna’s light. Each paced in a circle, some outpacing the others, intermingling. The bass grunting and growling disturbed the roosting birds in the trees and brush, and the burrowing creatures headed further under. The immediate vicinity was silent. This was the beasts’ time now.

Under any other circumstances, a full-on brawl would have broken out. So many wolves, two packs, and all unscented!

But the packs were on the edge of each other’s territory. The boundary had been well-marked with scat, urine, and scratches in the bark. There was no doubt this was a neutral spot. Trespasser and trespassee blurred. The Alphas barked reassurance. All was well.

And lucky them! Lucky lucky indeed! There was a man at the center of the circle. A mondjugen.

Yes. Yes! This mondjugen, covered in the scent of wolf. So succulent, so strong, so ready. He must be triple baptized. Immediately.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Praise Luna.

The blindfold was ripped off. All the bothersome coverings of men torn off in shreds. The man yelled, drowning out the sound of ripping. The man screamed. Men so often do. No matter.

This man was scented by the one pack. Urine, spit, he reeked of their stench. But what was this? The Alpha was pushing this wiggling, yelling man forward. Shoving him to the other Alpha. What was this?

The wolves looked on warningly, ears lowered, as they continued to circle, as their Alphas approached one another. The Alphas licked at each other’s chops, grunting, growling subtly. The wolves looked from one side to the other, then back again. The man tried to escape to one side. One of the larger wolves, the one with a torn ear, bats him down. The man was herded back into the center as another, the first wolves’ mate, snapped at his heels.

What was this? The man tried to crawl this time, crawling away. Another wolf, from the other pack, the other Alpha’s second, the warrior, darted forward. This wolf barked and snapped savagely at him. The man crawled back.

He darted another way. Naughty man! Another wolf herded him. This was the odd one. The one who bowed to one besides Luna. This wolf barked deeply, threateningly. The man squealed. Men often do. The odd one butted the man with his head, his snout. Back and forth, unrelenting until the mondjugen gave up and was returned to the center.

It was a good omen to see such a lively man. He would make a fine wolf.

To business. The Alphas barked their orders. This mondjugen was a gift. A gift to the other pack. They were on the border. The Alphas ordered it. Who could protest?

Apparently, the whiney wolf over by the several hunks of metal and rubber at the end of the clearing, smelling of man. He whined and barked and made a fuss. For whatever reason, he stayed off to the side. There was a sharp pinging and jangling sound that accompanied his struggles.

Quiet wolf! Quiet! The wolves whined and chuffed at him. Such barking would only serve to attract bears, mountain cats, and spirits. Some of the pack attended to him, licking, sniffing, gnawing. But nothing would placate this one, nothing!

His pack brothers grew bored. The night was only so long, and Luna awaited.

The barking wolf wanted the mondjugen. This much was plain. All shook their heads, barking their disapproval. It was not his. It was the Alpha’s. A gift for his brother Alpha. Yes. Good. Yes. Praise Luna!

The metal line rattled. The wolf barked, restrained. The wolves all smelled blood as he pulled against it, tearing against his own flesh. He grunted, his eyes wild, looking at the mondjugen. The man in the center looked back in naked fear. More skin tears, and more blood.

Served him right, the free and circling wolves snorted. Making such a fuss over something that wanot his.

The triple baptism. Yes. Oh fucking yes.

The man was sighing now, exhausted. He was shoved, prodded, kneeling before his lord Alpha. His head was down, his body convulsing, making the crying sounds men make before they are taken. The wolves were unmoved.

The Alpha barked once, and then made three circles around the man, as the wider circle quickened its pace. The man sniffled.

The Alpha dove in, giving the decisive chomp, at the meeting of his mondjugen’s shoulders and his neck. The man hollers, jerks, convulses, struggles to get away as blood pours down his pecs, his back, his arms. But the Alpha holds his ground. As with a struggling deer, he holds his ground.

The mondjugen calmed, his breathing evening. The Alpha could feel his heartbeat. And then, the mondjugen’s body throbbed. And throbbed again.

Alpha roared and released the mondjugen grunts in surprise as he collapsed to all fours on the ground. Snouts all around him poked him, sniff him.

“Mondjugen,” the Alpha barkd. This one looks up. Zach’s eyes are wide with confusion. And recognition. He understands the voice. The wolf barks again, stronger. Submit. Spread. Open. Serve.

All fear was washed away. A clean mind, open, was left. “Yes,” Zach whispered, the power of Luna taking him. The fear had fallen away from his human muzzle, leaving just his panting. The mondjugen blinked, and his yellow eyes began to glow. He smelled his Alpha, he saw his Alpha, he heard his Alpha. The entire world was his Alpha. “Take me, Alpha,” he panted. Like a flailing swimmer in the sea, he took the life saver offered to him. He embraces the ring as he would a lover. And he was home.

The triple baptism commenced. Praise Luna! All the wolves began to howl and grunt. Their circles turned into jousts as their hard members dripped and their spittle rained down on the clearing, as the man grew his coat, his teeth protruded, and his tail bloomed. Sperm, urine, spit. It was all put to use. The mondjugen was a lucky wolf indeed, to have thirteen godfathers to shepherd him into the pack. So much attention on his first night! He’d be a well-spoiled pup before the end of this.

For the next hour, the mondjugen grunted and moaned, barely even having the frame of mind to wipe the mess of liquids from his face. He keened unashamedly like, well, a creature quite spoiled. At the end, the man was no more. The pup, pumped, powerful, pink, was sopping wet with scent.

The bothersome wolf, restrained, continued to howl and lament and complain from the side of the clearing. The hunks of metal, the human-smelling things, had all been drug a full tree length through the grass, the wolves’ desperation to join in on the triple baptism have gotten him that far. The wolf barked hoarsely, his neck so strained.

The new pup wobbled a bit on all fours. All the wolves began their organized circling again. Time for scenting. Best no fights break out. All shall be scented. All! Praise Luna! And then… the hunt. Boar and deer and grouse and elk. A mondjugen night was always a lucky one. Let there be elk!

The wolf who bowed to one besides Luna groans with satisfaction as he was entered by the other pack’s Alpha. He splayed his feet, welcoming this Lord of Wolves in. It was so so good. He was so so lucky. Across the way, the rival pack member he had met once, was being entered by the prayerful one’s own Alpha. Praise Luna!

Daniel finally got back to his bunk at 3 a.m. Jesus Christ! He was still horny. The stud at the diner had been a wild romp. He’d taken five loads that night. Whoever does that? The busboy grinned a bit sheepishly at himself. The back storeroom was never his idea of a love nest, but his itch needed scratching so very badly, and the guy was game. Xochitl would kill him if she found out.

The man, tall, blonde, reserved, nice square pecs and a solid cock, had not stuck around. Just long enough to wash his hands, mumble some thanks, and dash off. Daniel shrugged. Gotta be a closet case. Oh well—Daniel hadn’t exactly been looking for love.

He was looking to exhaust this heat, that was for sure. It had lasted all day, from first waking until now, well-past midnight. A morning jerk-off was followed by a hookup off Grindr at lunch, two more jerk-offs during breaks from his shift, and then this unexpected man after hours.

Just what was going on here? Carlos’s entire trunk buzzed with need. After thirty seconds in bed, Daniel gave up any semblance of self-restraint and laughed incredulously as he reached down into his boxers. The busboy started jerking again. As the session progressed, one, two, three (!), then four (!!) fingers went into his hole. His biceps pulled as he energetically jerked with the other hand. Daniel grew more acquainted with his pillow, the need to muffle grunts of joy was so present.

Daniel came, calling out unapologetically into the fabric and down. He was laughing at it all as he crested down off this high, still jerking as he rolled onto his back like an upturned turtle. Only then did his buzzing flesh calm down enough to allow him to doze from exhaustion.

His wood never went down.

Carlos awoke with a start. The wolf snorted and brought his hand to his face, reflexively whipping off the fluff and seeds of the field. His mouth tasted awful.

Carlos smelt milkweed, rotting oak leaves, and his own body odor. He grunted his displeasure and shivered a bit. He wolf had been scented. Carlos could pick up Alpha Toddson, Alpha Pete, Nando, two or three others from the Alpha Toddson’s pack. Tom and Larry both. He’d been popular, Carlos grinned, still laying down. He coughed again, then sneezed from the pollen and ragweed in the air. Vamp’s never have to deal with this bull shit, Carlos sighed. Praise Luna, there had to be an easier way.

His body was soaking with dew. Everything was frigid. Wouldn’t be long before they would be seeing a frost.

The wolf blinked his eyes. The morning sun was dim, not yet punishing. Mountain mist still cloaked the hills. Carlos sat up, swiping at the itching grass and brambles stuck to his muscular back.

Carlos, in all his glorious nudity, leaned forward to get into a crouch, then onto all fours, and then finally standing. His powerhouse of a body was gloriously beautiful; it was a pity there were none around him to enjoy it. The rest of the pack must be around here somewhere, Carlos though, instinctively sniffing before he tried looking. And his clothes were… he looked around for them. Fuck! where were his clothes?

And then Carlos saw where he was.

His perch on the grassy slope tumbled down directly into the national park. One of the newly painted “No Trespassing—Nature Preserve” signs was off to the right. Carlos smelt of fresh paint, newly set concrete, and the still lingering disturbed earth.

In front of him, the park loomed. Tall, untamed stands of pine and ash, rocky ridges, and nary a road to despoil the wilderness, untamed, savage. These woods had been the packs’ playground just a month ago, but now the entire mass was darker, foreboding. And the scent… there was none. Just none.

Every synapse of Carlos’s wolf brain told him to back up, to get away, to flee this strangeness. A place with no scent was like the deepest, coldest, echoing cave for a human. Instinct said, ‘stay out.’

The Latino stud almost heeded these inclinations. His pack brothers must be near, with his clothes and his F-150.

But Carlos forced himself to stay a second. “Hakim…” he whispered. And then he shouted it. Shouted it again.

The forest of the national park were silent. Not even an echo was returned.

Carlos tried once more. “Hakim!”

Then, off in the distance, beyond the dense trees and shrouds of mist, there was a bark back. Or at least Carlos thought so. “Hakim!” he shouted running forward. He ran forward on his awkward two legs until he could no longer bear it. Carlos paused a second to change to his wolf-self (he never could master the changing mid-sprint that some others had adopted) and ran forward at full tilt on four legs, howling.

But then, at a certain point, the air grew sterile. There was just… nothing in front of him. Nothing. His weaker wolf eyes could see the grass continuing. The trees becoming. But the lack of scent drove him back, like a diver eventually resurfacing, the need for scent as compelling as the need for breath.

Carlos barked where he stood. Calling mightily. No sound was returned.

Carlos did not give up. He barked again and again his mate’s name. No sound returned, just a dull echo from the trees.

Carlos was reduced to sobs. He continued his calling, growing hoarse.

Sitting in the field, in a crouch, Carlos panted, cursing himself, cursing Haig, cursing the world. Cursing Luna! Damn her! What higher purpose was all of this serving?

Carlos knew why he’d strayed from the pack. His wolf send on Luna’s nights must have sensed Hakim was near. Sensed he could get close. Carlos shuddered, as he changed back into a man as he sat. He wished Alpha Pete had shown mercy and leashed him too this past night.

Carlos shuddered again. He knew in his bones that he’d be returning to the boundaries of the national park every full moon. He could not control the wolf that night; indeed, Carlos could not control anything when Luna called. Each and every month. There would be no moving on. There could not be. Carlos missed his mate desperately.

Another bark, fainter, came from the woods. Carlos say another few minutes, hoping for another. But none came. No sounds, no scents. Just a rapidly rising sun, and the need to get back to his car.

“I will find a way, my love,” Carlos whispered.

The naked man started walking back into the woods. Wild woods soon revealed some nature trails, and then a rope-course and a small playground, and a trash can full of sugary cans and cups. The last of the summer’s bees weaved and wagged about over atop it. Now properly oriented, Carlos soon changed back to his wolf self, and started a trim dash through the ridges, until he picked up the scent. Carlos had employed a wolf-hack to ensure a timely return in case they strayed far from the vehicles. He had left an uneaten Egg McMuffin in the floor of the F-150, and the scent would lead him home.

…and there it was! The wolf sniffed. He grunted in satisfaction and veered left. Soon, my love, he thought. I’ll find a way to get you out of there.

“Now you gotta ensure your foot is completely on the bench or riser, bro,” Yousef instructed, his strong, veiny forearms fully on display, and his large manly hands clutching the 55’s. Frank would insert the arrow indicator graphics afterward.

Bill held the iPhone on the tripod steady, scanning down to focus on the personal trainer’s foot and well-turned calves as he demonstrated the chair step up. “If your foot isn’t solidly anchored, your heel bends, and your body starts cheating to compensate. Ain’t gonna fly, bro. Your glutes won’t receive the TLC they need to grow.”

Bill smiled at the insertion of ‘bro.’ Yousef was as into gym culture as they come, but he knew that part of the script was an act.

“Wait!” the silver fox Frank interjected, off camera, from where he was standing by the ring light. “That last tag line. It doesn’t make sense.”

Yousef looked away from the camera. “Shit, Frank! That take was going so well.” Bill stopped the recording as they huddled. They were aiming for 30 seconds for this video, and the script had to be tight.

“No, here me out,” the handsome older gentleman said. Frank had paler skin, and a full head of hair, all silver. Particularly nice shapely arms, deltoids to die for, and the lithe body of a runner never skips the gym. “You got to say, ‘or your glutes won’t receive the work out they need,’ or ‘the training they need,’ Frank explained himself, acting out Yousef’s chair step move in his Under Armour blank tank top and grey shorts. Yousef smiled as he performed the routine; his muscle mass gain really was coming along.

Muscular for a man, that was; Frank didn’t hold a candle to Yousef and Bill’s size, not that he understood the reason why. “You’re putting me to shame, man!” Frank would joke when Yousef would oblige with a flex while at the mirrors. Yousef was pretty good and bucking his trainees up; the wolf’s size never need discourage others. That was important to Yousef.

The human’s personal training sessions with Yousef had turned into a friendship, and Bill now too. So it had been a natural thing to ask Frank for help on Yousef’s videos for the gym. “I mean, ‘TLC’ is like pampering, right?” Frank asked.

They nodded. The language was too soft. “I want something catchier,” Yousef mused.

They had been filming quick personal training clips all morning. The IG ‘hearts’ and Facebook ‘likes” had been growing recently. If Yousef got 100,000 hits in the next month, there was a chance he could get a why protein or athletic shirt vendor deal. Which would mean Mountain Peaks Gym could grow, and even franchise…

“I get ya, but it’s gotta be snappy and accurate both,” Frank smiled, literally snapping his fingers. Yousef’s personal training client was also a drummer in a series of local bands and did video editing on the side. He was a godsend for Mountain Peaks’ social media content. “Fitness viewers swipe away or don’t hit ‘like’ if it isn’t direct, manly, jagged. TLC is like ‘chicken soup’, not ‘The Pump!’ “

Bill and Yousef nodded; the human was right.

The wolves had both returned directly from the triple baptism to open up Mountain Peaks and to wash off. Each had been scented half a dozen times, nice heavy loads warming up their tummies. Bill was buzzing with happiness over the attention, and Yousef felt satisfied; his old human reservations about submission, heart, soul, body, were fading.

At first light, Yousef and Bill roused themselves from a clump of grass near the cars, most of their pack still dozing nude in the weeds. Alpha Toddson’s pack, Zach with them, was already departed. It had taken more than a minute to undo the chains from the Compass’s hitch. Poor Mullins had been in a fitful sleep just ten yards away, the chains to all four vehicles still around his raw human neck.

“Maybe something a little more cosplay, more fantasy?” Bill asked about the script. “Like,” he changed his voice into a faux announcer’s, “ ‘If you want the glutes of a warrior, you need to train for battle.’ “ The wolf held up his hands, his sleeve tattoos flashing as he pantomimed a billboard or movie poster. “Picture it.”

“Too many syllables,” their human companion shook his head. “Gotta be punchier.”

“You want battleship glutes? Then you gotta ensure a firm anchor,” Bill the announcer offered.

Yousef and Frank winced. Even Bill admitted it was lame.

Yousef appreciated Frank’s help. “You’re the best personal trainer I’ve ever had, Coach,” Frank demurred when Yousef offered to pay for his camera and video support and created the winking wolf logo. “I’m already paying you. I’m just glad to be a part of all this,” he spread his shapely arms out at the entire the gym floor. Mountain Peaks now sported all matching machines, a full set of free weights, and a new sound system. Plus, Frank was the first to admit he was a little lonely. The initial thrill of his toxic marriage’s end last year had faded. He was now trying out his empty nester wings after his youngest started his freshman fall semester downstate. Mountain Peaks was Frank’s home away from home.

Yousef appreciated Frank as a friend as well. His musicianship, his happy-go-lucky attitude, his demeanor—it was all a welcome chaser after the intense times wolfhood had brought. The pack was Yousef’s family. But friends had grown scarce. Yousef’s gamer friends hung on, but the wolf’s… well, wolf brain grew bored with the static screen and lack of scent. Yousef had a few straight friends from before, jocks and coaches he’d hung with occasionally, but the pack and the growing business had come to dominate his time.

“Secure your feet… Secure your Steps…” Bill worked it out verbally, emphasizing the ‘s’.

“Secure your stance and steady your steps for seriously solid glutes!” Frank answered. All three grinned. “Secure Your Steps. Seriously Solid Glutes! And that’s the hashtag!” he clapped his hands once in victory.

They filmed the video. Yousef demonstrated the chair step ups with the 55’s and nailed his lines on the first try. The wolf could have used 90’s, but he and Bill didn’t want to make the video seem fake. He bounded up and down, supernaturally light. The wolf’s hairy legs were well-turned out, pumped, and strained against his shorts as he performed the routine. So many leg days.

It was a keeper. “Awesome,” Frank said, clicking ‘upload.’ “I’m not just saying this. You’ve really got some potential for some sponsorships with this quality of content.”

“Thanks, bro,” Yousef gave a mock bow.

“Yeah,” Frank nodded, smiling. He looked at the clock. “Look, I gotta get to the firm. Depos’ at ten. I’ll do the trimming on the four we’ve shot, for background music and graphics overlay after work.”

“You said you were gonna join us for breakfast at the diner!” Bill protested. He liked Frank too; the pumped silver fox was becoming a true friend.

“We ran long. I gotta…” Frank made a hitch-hiker’s thumb, pointing over his shoulder.

“Weak!” Bill blew a raspberry, feeling playful. “Jesus, Frank show a little loyalty to Mountain Peaks!—Shit!” he almost tripped over the ring light. Bill clutched the stand firmly to steady it, the fingers tightening in unison. The ring light inexplicably flashed. And then…

The world pulsed. Yousef felt it. Bill felt it. The unaware human blinked, the flash hitting his eyes directly.

The tatted wolf looked around in caution. The gym’s TV screens had buzzing silver for a second, then returned to their sports games and cable news broadcasts. The rope pulls swayed slightly from their clips. The gym’s automatic doors opened, though no person was near, and then closed again. What the fuck was that?

A clearing of the throat came. The two wolves’ eyes were drawn back to the silver fox rubbing his eyes in front of them.

“I… I’m sorry… I…” he rubbed his eyes again, shaking his head. “What were we talking about?” the built silver fox said with unveiled confusion.

“You were leaving for work,” Yousef said, looking between Frank and his tattoo-sleeved stud pack brother. Bill looked fearful. Frank’s eyes were unfocused. “Breakfast…” Yousef prompted him.

“Do you want me at breakfast, Sir?” Frank turned to Yousef. His tone was earnest.

“Sure. I mean if you can swing it,” Yousef answered. He sniffed the air quickly. No changes, nothing strange.

“I’ll join you two for breakfast, Sir,” Frank said quickly, no thought involved.

“What about your work? The firm?” Bill interjected. “Didn’t you say you had—”

“That doesn’t matter, if you want me for breakfast, Sir,” Frank smiled, happily.

“Frank,” Bill said cautiously. “Can you go into Yousef’s office for a second?”

“Why, Sir?” Frank asked, confused.

“Go into the office,” Bill said.

“Oh, yes Sir!” Frank said happily then, and sped across the room, jogging to the office. Yousef watched the departing broad muscular back of his trainee, the trim waist, the great calves, then looked to his pack brother.

“Shit…” Bill whispered.

Before Yousef could do another thing, his phone buzzed. A text from Alpha Pete popped up.

Yus—Get a full set of razors and shaving cream today. Add that bill to the piggy bank

Poor piggy, Yousef grimaced. Last night’s chains hadn’t come cheap. He sighed. One more thing to add to his troubles.

Another text. Bill’s phone bleeped simultaneously as the pack text chain came up.

Enjoyable night with Luna, gents. All hands meeting tonight at Mountain Peaks after closing. No absences tolerated. Praise Luna. Alpha P.

[Hello, wolf brothers. Happy Halloween! This one took a bit longer to write. Was hemming and hawing on where to take the characters. I am eager to hear feedback to see how you’re all receiving it. Keep the comments coming. Thoughtful messages, ideas, praise, and critiques are greatly welcomed (in the comments or direct messages). Those really keep me going. Cheers, gents!]

Cast of Characters:

• Alpha Pete, giant hulk of a wolfman, red-headed and bearded, tries to do right by his pack

• Carlos, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, likes a tightly run pack, morose over the loss of his mate Hakim

• Tom, of Alpha Pete’s pack, stoic and kind, muscle daddy and gentle giant with estranged children from before his wolfhood, from Wisconsin

• Larry, of Alpha Pete’s pack, talkative gentlemen distrustful of humans, mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, of Alpha Pete’s pack, former Police Chief, cookie-duster moustache, newly divorced after his wolfhood, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, but starting the branch out

• Yousef, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Lebanese personal trainer and owner of Mountain Peaks gym, Seth’s crush and coming into his own, devote Muslim with a burgeoning spanking kink

• Bill, of Alpha Pete’s pack, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, eager bottom with sleeve tattoos, works at Mountain Peaks Gym

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

• Daniel, hardworking Latin busboy at Xochitl’s diner, gay and sweet, handsome but a confirmed non-mondjugen

• Frank, silver fox lawyer with some video editing skills and a passion for drumming. Yousef’s personal training client at Mountain Peaks Gym.

• Alpha Toddson, silver Alpha of the South Territory, a silver daddy and uneasy frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Nando of Alpha Toddson’s pack, tough and hardened, athletic and horny.

• Zach of Alpha Toddson’s pack, rookie cop and mondjugen, recently traded for Alpha Pete’s pack’s territorial integrity—for now.

• FBI Agent Allen (Al) Braithwaite, investigating the disappearances of mafiosos (Zach’s cousins) in the region, and also trying to find himself.

• Barb, proud bull dyke Chief of Police, taking over for the AWOL Mullins. Deadly serious about her profession, but not without a wry sense of humor.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” Carlos muttered as he trotted into the forest clearing. His F150 was the only vehicle left. The others’ tire tracks had ploughed off through the mud and back to the road. Normally, Carlos would have enjoyed the smell of fresh moist earth, maybe even rolled around in it. But the entire place stank of wolves. All the wolves.

“Really, that was so nice of you… to wait,” Carlos went on complaining to himself, stifling a sneeze. He rounded the truck, transforming as he went. Heading about the front, the nude jungle gym of a Latino strode to the driver’s side door. The wet mud squelched around his human feet, his bare manhood and loins shrunk in the lingering cool fall mist. Carlos took a second to savor the cold wet.

Admittedly, the wolf had stopped to down a deer and have breakfast. It had been a while since he had such a feast for himself. It took time. But still… Carlos flexed his large toes; the mud squelched through the gaps, like toothpaste through a tube. That was a pleasure no wolf could manage.

“Sorry you hard to trouble yourselves waiting,” Carlos continued in a mocking tone. “Fue increíblemente amable de su parte—shit!”

The chain. Alpha Pete had tossed it in his truck bed. Like it was a garbage truck! “Sorry baby,” Carlos patted sweet, sweet cherry red. She didn’t deserve this.

The chain was on top of some old tarps and blankets, a winding, twisted dragon caged in by the truck bed’s walls. It, like the rest of this despoiled clearing, reeked of wolves. It was almost offensive to the nose, like a wine festival three-fourths of the way through where pocketbooks became bottomless and fancy titles turned into “reds” and “whites.”

Alpha Pete had been super clever, Carlos nodded to himself, gazing back at the chain. Poor Mullins. But no, Carlos resolved. The newbie needed discipline. The pack could not afford any more jealousy, none of these puppy’s play attachments and drama.

Carlos had already checked to ensure the chain was off the hitch. Maybe he could sell it for scrap, the wolf shrugged. He pulled the keys out from under the windshield wiper and opened the door.

As he did so, he heard a clank.

The wolf froze. Only his nostrils flared. Rapid sniffing while absolutely still.

Wolves, wolves, wolves. The entire place stank of wolves. It was such a blend, no individual’s scent was detectable. The very grass seethed with scent.

Carlos allowed himself a small sigh. Amid the wash of danger, piss, and shed hair, the only thing he could make heads or tails of was what he was not smelling: Hakim. Even Carlo’s weak human snout felt that absence terribly.

Another clank. The wolf’s eyes narrowed as they went yellow. He looked over. The bed of his cherry red was still, quiet. Could have just been the opening of the door, making the chains shift, or the truck’s settling into the muck.

Carlos chuffed. He side-stepped over and reached into the bed of the truck. His clothes were bunched up at the base of the cab. The boxers, red, came first. The wolf snuffed a bit at their coldness, damp from the dew. Then he reached for his button up, to cover his pecs, his traps, his amazing arms. A crime against humanity to hide them, but then, Carlos was no human.

All the while, he was silent, sniffing, alert. Wolves—wolves—wolves. Wolves’ musk, wolves’ urine, wolves’ spunk, wolves’ hair, wolves dander. It was all a mess.

He needed to get out of here. Carlos dropped the shirt back in the truck’s bed and hopped in just his boxers into the front cab. He slipped his toes into some cheap flip flops (the shoes could wait). He pulled his phone out of the glove compartment and spied Alpha Pete’s text about the mandatory meeting at Mountain Peaks Gym that evening. Carlos nodded. He could guess his Alpha’s intent. Best get moving.

The wolf revved up the engine. The clank happened again.

“¡Lo sabía!” Carlos clenched his teeth. His nostrils flared. The exhaust served as a chaser of sorts. He drew in a breath. Wolf. Wolf. Wolf. A wolf.

Not of his pack. Another sniff… Oh! That one!!

Carlos smiled; his amber eyes almost closed. This was gonna be good.

“Buckle up, baby!” Carlos whispered. His muscular arm rammed the truck into reverse. Without care, he slammed on the gas.

The chains rattled; the engine gave a lion’s roar. Mud sprayed, and the mourning doves scatted.

Carlos did gratuitous donuts around the clearing, whopping and hollering, having a good time. Sweet cherry red here was gonna need a bath after this! Time to show this girl a good time!

Soon, the wolf was back on the country roads, driving faster than he ought. You’d have through the deer strike that past June would have taught some kind of lesson. The F150 windows were open, a right elbow hanging out the driver’s side, the music blaring, and the usually taciturn Carlos singing along. He needed to get to Alpha’s gathering that evening, but what better way to waste the day away than joy riding through the hills, and giving his passenger a good scare?

The engine revved again, and the view turned into a blur. In the truck bed, the chain rattled and writhed as the car sped, weaved, and jolted. The tarp whimpered with each bump.

“Let me get this straight,” Yousef was incredulous. “You made the busboy super horny?”

“And it won’t shut off,” Bill nodded. They were seated at the diner, in the handicapped booth, both filing out their ‘Mountain Peaks’ polos wonderfully. The better to accommodate their amazing musculature. Regular booths just didn’t cut it anymore for the two hulking stud hunks.

“Shut off?” Yousef asked, incredulously. He put down his coffee cup to rub his temples.

“Like, it won’t stop,” Bill shrugged his shoulders, feeling bad. “It was supposed to last life five minutes, like a hit of poppers.” He took a swig of his own mud, cream and plenty of sugar for this Southern wolf.

“Poppers?” Yousef asked, confusedly.

“Popp—never mind,” Bill sighed. He reached across the table and patted Yousef on the shoulder. This former straight man still had a lot to learn. “It’s… they’re in sex shops. It’s like a hit of cocaine or something. Short and sweet.”

“But it’s not shutting off…”

“No,” Bill grimaced. “Nothing works. Poor Daniel’s been an energizer bunny of fuck ever since.” He eyed the busboy across the restaurant zipping to and fro with his dishes bucket. The guy’s eyes were hungry. He winked at Bill from across the room, and then at Yousef.

Yousef took a second, and then winked back.

“And Frank?” Yousef forced himself to focus. He shifted his gaze over to the men’s room door across the diner. Their breakfast was almost done. Frank’s behavior had been… interesting.

“I think I said something about loyalty?” Bill asked. He honestly didn’t remember. “Then the ring light flashed, and now we’ve got our faithful friend Frank.”

“He’s coming,” Yousef brought himself down to a whisper. The silver fox was heading back. His face was at a normal rest as he navigated the booths and stools, but the instant he spied Yousef and Bill, the mortal broke out into a beaming smile.

Yousef squinted a bit as Frank approached. He looked completely normal. But there was something… hell if he knew what, but something different…

“Hey, I’m back,” Frank chirped as he slid into the booth, alongside Bill, Yousef across from him. The personal trainee of Yousef’s was breathless, spritely, smiling from ear to ear. Looking at Yousef. It was… creepy. The entire morning had been that way.

“Great,” Yousef was guarded. The last thing he wanted to do was screw Frank up further.

“The personal training’s really working, bro!” Frank gushed. “I’m down an entire belt loop just this morning!”

“Uh…” Yousef nodded, trying to look positive. Something was just off. The wolf looked at his Garmin watch. “It’s almost ten.” Yousef scrunched his face. “Aren’t you missing that deposition you said you were giving?”

“Oh…” Frank looked at his smart-watch. He had to push his plaid button-up’s sleeve up off his wrist to see the face. “Yeah, I should have gotten to that.” He looked back up, a smile on his face. Almost puppy-like.

Yousef set his gaze over at Bill. The other wolf shrugged. “Frank…” Yousef tried to choose his words carefully. “It would please me greatly if you did your best at your job.”

Frank blinked. “Okay,” he nodded emphatically. The man pushed his sleeve up again to get to his smart-watch again. The fabric was halfway up the palm, Bill next to him noticed. The silver fox began responding to the messages from his law partners.

“And… edit and post the videos we shot today. Insta, YouTube, and Facebook, right?”

“Cool! I’ll do those first thing!” Frank looked up quickly, nodding. He was grinning like the sun, looking as happy as a Frenchie with a treat in his teeth.

“Second thing,” Yousef inserted. “You do your lawyer thing during working hours.”

Frank looked deflated for a second.

“It would please me greatly if you were the best attorney you can possibly be during working hours,” Yousef sighed.

“Okay,” Frank nodded. Yousef felt a little sad. Frank had been a good friend and an interesting trainee. He hated to see him… altered somehow. The cheery disposition was… well, worship and loyalty were flattering, but it didn’t make much for conversation. And Frank just looked different. Yousef gave a few exploratory sniffs, playing it cool, but nothing came up from the scent. Just Frank’s deodorant, the cheap soap they stocked at Mountain peaks, and the BO from the clothes in his medium-sized gym bag below his feet.

There was almost a minute of silence. “Better get to the firm,” Yousef nodded finally.

Frank nodded, looking sad. “Yeah, bro. I’ll alert when I post the videos, and the stats on fan engagement.” The silver fox slid out and stepped down from the booth.

Three steps away and Frank paused. Yousef and Bill watched as he looked back, a sad puppy. “I’ll miss you, bro.”

“We got a session tomorrow,” Yousef replied, weirded out. Frank seemed to take comfort in that. He turned and started walking again.

Yousef called out to him. “Hey Frank…”

The human turned around. “Yeah, bro?” His face was blank, no suspicion, no confusion. Just happy.

“Jump up and down three times,” Yousef said.

The man complied, not letting a half-second pass before he did the first hop. His face was satisfied. His body was relaxed… and fit. A lot fitter… Yousef’s practiced eye with assessing fitness noticed something. Frank’s shoulders looked proportionately wider, his dimensions all more fit, more trim, more curves and muscle mass… but also… no… it could not be…

“Who’s the familiar?” Xochitl asked as she came to bus the table a moment later, eyeing Frank through the large side windows that ran along the booths, as he headed over to his car in the side lot. The man tripped over his loosely laced shoes as he got to his car, catching himself as he fished for his keys in his large-looking gym bag.

“The what?” Yousef asked, he and Bill both staring out the window. Bill winced at the word.

“Don’t play dumb with me, chico,” Xochitl chuckled. “I know a bewitched mortal when I see one.” She rolled her eyes, indicating with a nod over her shoulder. The busboy was hard at work, behind the counter, wiping counters and filling his tub with the dirtied cutlery. Daniel had an intense look on his face; the two wolves in the booth recognized a man on the hunt when they say one. The busboy swaggered a bit as he moved around.

“I threaten him I have fire him if he hook up with any more customers.” Xochitl shook her head. “And I had to take the back-room keys from him, the fucker.”

Yousef gasped, surprised at her French. Older ladies in his own family were more proper. The hot Arab wolf darted his head over at Bill. His Southern chum looked away.

Xochitl sighed at Yousef. “I know—I need to mind my manners on the clock. And don’t act so prim yourself, Yousef. You’re the one who brought Mr. puppy-dog-eyes out there in here. Last I remember, that attorney was straight.”

“Can we change him back? Frank, I mean?” Yousef asked.

Xochitl kept cleaning and collecting plates. “Magic… no is like a kitchen light, turning on and off.” She put down the check. “It’s not… not a chemistry set. The craft is alive, joven. We wield it, we dance among it. ¿You don’t understand the Moon’s intentions, si? Magicians and mages and wizards don’t understand the magical spectrum completely. It takes practice even to tread water.”

“And maybe you shouldn’t be teaching knucklehead here magic,” Yousef said testily.

“And maybe you could show a little gratitude for me saving your skins last month,” Xochitl shot back. Yousef blanched. Xochitl sighed. “Sorry. Claro, wolves wolf. And witches witch. When a soul has potential,” Xochitl indicated at Bill, “it’s my calling to nurture it.”

Yousef was ashamed to have expressed frustration like that, especially to a good friend like Xochitl. He prided himself on being a gentleman.

“Bill has potential,” Xochitl worked to calm herself down too. “I’m not giving him magic; I’m trying to ensure he channels it in the right way.”

“And Frank…” Bill asked.

“I can try. Look under the hood, right? Bring him around again next time.”

Bill nodded to her.

“Besides,” Xochitl choked up a bit as she looked up. “There are worse fates than being a warlock’s familiar.” They, all three of them, were now looking at the diner’s television where the local news was leading again with the missing persons’ search for several law enforcement officials. The chyron read “MISSING: SETH McBRIDE, U.S. PARK RANGER.” Their friends’ face flashed on the screen in his uniform and wide brimmed ranger hat.

Seth had loved that hat, that badge, Bill sighed. He reached for the check.

Xochitl blanched as she looked out the diner windows, seeing a not-so-non-descript car with a federal law enforcement license plate cruise by the diner.

Yousef’s phone pinged. He moved to get up. The wolf wanted to get back to the gym and get some contractor paperwork done before midday prayers.

“So if you could turn any celebrity were, who would you chomp?” Tom asked his mate, his fingers dancing over the video game control. The cabin smelled of their bodies, still unwashed from the prior evening’s transformation, of their just finished lunch of eggs and Larry’s grits, and the crackling snaps of the old television’s cathode ray tubes in front of them.

“Living or past?” Larry asked, staring straight at the screen. Muted ‘booms’ could be heard from the speakers. The morning mist had burned off, and the air drifting in through the wafting curtains brought the scent of Indian Summer. Plenty of time to get some gaming in before the pack met that night at Mountain Peaks.

“Living,” Tom jerked his thick hairy wrists a bit, willing his player forward. Both were in their boxers and nothing else. The two wolves’ muscles bulged alluringly as their shoulders, traps, and arms strained and struggled to wage war in the RCA XL-100, wood frame, doily on top, and everything.

“Hugh Jackman,” Larry responded without hesitation, not moving his eyes away from the game’s glow. Yousef had lost interest in the console, so Tom and Larry were giving it a spin.

“Cheating,” Tom shook his head, also still looking forward.

“Is not!” Larry protested. Several more ‘booms’ could be heard. Both of the players on screen began to grunt and gasp. “He’s basically a wolf already!” His fingers danced some more. More buttons clicking. More ‘booms.’ “Those muscles, that X-men onesie!”

“He’s a wolverine,” Tom responded. A major ‘boom’ was heard. The cabin glowed brighter from the conflagration on screen.

“Damn it!” Larry swore, maneuvering his player out of the way. “So what? He’s tough as nails.”

“Is not. It’s the worst kind of animal,” Tom stared straight ahead. Another major boom. Songbirds outside looked up as the cabin’s windows lit up, as bright as day.

“How so?” Larry panted, getting worked up. He was jerking his console, futilely trying to will his player further than the controls could manage.

“Wolverines are nasty fuckers, but they’re no wolf,” Tom asserted. “They’ll attack anything—anything. No cunning, no planning, no brain, no pack. They’re a weed-wacker with legs.” Tom finished.

“Go Blue!” Larry quipped. Three more ‘booms’ came from the screen.

“They’re basically fat weasels,” Tom said.

“Basically,” Larry nudged his mate, using a softer tone. Tom cracked a smile too. “Got nothing to do with Hugh Jackman the man though.”

“Guilty by association. Anyways, try again,” Tom said, narrowing his eyes and staring at the screen.

“Hmmmm… the Rock,” Larry shrugged, throwing out another name. “He’s already halfway there with those muscles.” ‘Boom—Boom—boom!’

“Too late—shit!” Tom jerked about, his player on the run. “Already a—shit!” More maneuvering. “Already a vamp.”

“What!” Larry blinked, looking over. “He is not!”

“Gotcha!” Tom grinned. ‘Boom!!’

“You ass!” Larry gasped, looking back at the screen. His player was no more.

“You know you love it,” Tom wiggled his rear, making the couch shake. “He is really a vamp, through,” the larger wolf smiled, and leaned back on the couch.

“Y’all could not possibly know that,” Larry signed with frustration, tossing his controller on their coffee table, a collection of milk crates with two boards on top. They listened to birdsong outside for a few minutes.

Larry sighed and looked over. “Okay, the truth. Is he?”

Before Tom could react, both their nostrils flared. Alpha.

Tom and Larry both wordlessly got up and headed to the front door. “Did he text?” the smaller whispered, snatching up his phone. Tom opened the door and strode outside, bare feet on the planks. Another sniff. Coming right for them.

Tom sighed. “Come,” he murmured, and Larry listened. They stood on the porch, and Tom brought his mate into his arms. Alpha Pete was no tyrant, and no sadist. But any wolf shivers a bit when his Alpha comes without warning.

The smell always preceded Alpha Pete. Power. Well-groomed fur. Musk. Then, the wolf’s ears pricked up. A low growl, three bounds through branch scrub, and the wolf pounced in the leaf-strewn clearing in front of Larry and Tom’s.

“Larry,” Alpha Pete barked, still in wolf form. “Off with the boxers.” No reliance on ceremony today.

Larry gulped despite himself. He fancied himself a tough wolf, as hardened as any. But this was heavy stuff.

“Nice of you to allow me the chance to save a buck,” Larry tried to be cocky, stepping down the three steps to the earth, and stepping out of his plaid reds. By Alpha’s right, he could have torn the garment off. Larry’s ass was Alpha’s. Tom’s ass was Alpha’s. All was Alpha’s. “I-uhn!” the wolf gasped as the giant Alpha, fur flared out, making him look as large as a grizzly, darted forward, snatching the garment away.

Alpha Pete made quick work of the boxes, knowing them to pieces in his mouth, ripping at them with his claws. There was no saving them, no swatch large enough even for a quilt patch.

Larry was left totally naked in the clearing. He crouched a bit, akimbo, anticipating Alpha Pete’s next move.

Tom moved to jump from the porch, to go on all fours. Alpha Pete snarled, warding him off.

Alpha Pete stalked around the nude Larry. “You have beef with me,” the large Alpha observed. Fur started to emerge on Larry’s arms. “Stay human!” the wolf barked.

Larry gave a small guffaw. The fur retracted, his muscular human arms reasserting themselves. “You know why.”

“Pack discipline,” the Alpha paced a full circle around his pack member. He urinated as he paced, squirting without precision. No need to be precise—the entire clearing was his.

“You ripped his ear,” Larry clenched his teeth.

“I was asking for it, Larry!” Tom protested from the porch. Tom grew hard; he was standing right where his Lord Alpha had bred him just the day before. But he did not hop down, nor become wolf. His Alpha forbade it.

“All’s fair…” Alpha Pete grunted. Another long spray of water pattered across the cabin’s clearing, the dust gathering in globs, the beaded water soaking into the soil. “Last night, your stench, your sneer, your protectiveness of your mate… during the turning of a mondjugen, in front of another pack, no less.”

“He’s my mate,” Larry asserted. “Y’all gotta understand.” He knew where this was going.

“In front of another Alpha, an entire other pack. On our borders and licking their chops for more.” A paw swatted Larry from behind, and the man went tumbling onto his belly.

Larry tried to get up, but a giant paw came to his back, holding him down, chest pressed to the urine-soaked earth. Larry grunted, unable to get away, a captive to the scent, quickly getting drunk on the intoxicating wet he was wallowing in.

“That can’t stand,” the Alpha snorted at Larry’s human ear.

“I…” Larry tried to keep his composure, but he quickly cracked when warm urine coursed across his head. “I know, Alpha, I know!” Larry panted, his standoffishness melting. The musk he was sinking in was getting to him. His strong legs tried to move, to gain purchase in the muddy ground. The human’s breath was labored, his moaning growing. The musk was having its intended effect. The man’s cute butt flexed, its hole winking, pulsing. One paw pressed on the center of Larry’s back, at the meeting of his wide lats and strong rhomboids. The other batted the man’s rear. The cheeks jiggled saucily, Larry grunting without care for dignity.

The large wolf atop him grinned. He looked up, scanning the clearing. There, next to the house, a sagging hammock. Perfect.

“Tom,” the wolf barked. “Put your mate in that sling.” It was obvious from Larry’s quivering that he was in no shape to walk anymore. And he’d need the human hands to get the muscle hunk up into the fabric.

Tom jolted to attention on the porch.

“The better to fuck him with,” the large wolf added, gratuitously. This was an act of dominance over Tom as much as it was for Larry. The pack needed to stay together, serve together. Nothing could be allowed to come between the Alpha and his pack. Petty rivalries must be quashed, resentments quelled. A whiff of anger must be snuffed out, not allowed to simmer even one second. Even the protective nature of a mated pair must be subsumed by their love and worship of their Lord Alpha.

Alpha Pete would be the first to admit this was one of his failings. Particularly with headstrong Seth (now Alpha Seth), Alpha Pete wanted to be a lord but not a tyrant. However, after the debacle with Alpha Seth, Haig, and Schreider, and now Alpha Toddson chomping at his heels, Alpha Pete saw that the old customs needed to be adhered to.

He’d deal with the rascal Mullins this evening, with the entire pack watching. But now, to Larry and Tom.

Remaining in wolf form, Alpha Pete followed Tom as he carried the heaving, sexed-up Larry over to the ratty hammock they’d strung up between the sycamore and white pine on the side of the cabin. Tom had taken the liberty of removing his boxers as well, and his Alpha chewed them into rags during the march. Clothes were considered a privilege to wolves, and these two men had been very, very naughty.

Larry had calmed down a bit by the time he was lowered into the hammock, facing sideways, perpendicular to the length of the netting. Calmed down enough to extend his feet out on either side, Larry assists his mate in tangling the angles up into the hammock’s ropes. Calmed down enough to reach his arms out as well for tangling at the wrists. The pumped, aroused wolf was now spread eagle on his back, swaying stark naked in the breeze, his hard cock bobbing like a metronome as the slightly swaying spiderweb of rope cradled him.

Larry’s ass was presenting, his pink hole quivering. The Alpha approached.

“You are angry at me,” Alpha Pete growled, and then leaned in, and gave his pack member’s human hole a wet luxurious lick. It smelled and tasted of human musk, sweat, and those energy drinks that Larry drank way too much of.

Larry called out in pleasure. His breathing was increasing again. Tom was crouched to the side, in deference to his Alpha, and to ensure he had the best view of his mate being rutted. The wolf’s man cock grew hard, so long and so hard it stirred the leaves on the ground.

“Angry? Still angry?” Alpha Pete asked. He licked again with force, causing the hammock to sway. Larry moaned loudly. The wolf jutted his snout forward until the front of his muzzle was almost burrowed into his pack members’ horny hole. The Alpha shook his entire body, his fur a blur for a moment.

“No! No, alpha!” Larry blurted out. “Not angry!” His Alpha’s ministrations on his man cunt, plus the wolf’s dander and breath washing over him… it just obliterated everything else.

Alpha Pete looked up at his Larry. The man was sweating across his large powerful pecs, the water running down his abs in a small river, turning his pubes into a swamp of smell. The man’s cock pulsed wildly, high, pumped, pink. Alpha Pete moved his snout up and greedily licked at Larry’s hairy crotch.

The restrained man grunted and wiggled, desperate to keep this happening.

Tom grunted too. He was panting, the sight was so amazing. The wolf tried to reach for his own crotch in his crouch, but Alpha Pete gave a warning growl. This session was about submission, not pleasure. Alpha decided when wolves came. Only Alpha.

“Please, Sir! Please, Ayl-fah,” Larry panted. His grunting was now a constant. Alpha drove in again, and gnawed and licked at his opening. “Aw fuck! Aw, yea,” Larry whelped, his southern accent getting thicker. His breathing was jagged. The Tennessean writhed back and forth in the hammock, the ground below him well-irrigated with sweat. The boughs above the wolves groaned, and a murmur of starlings was flushed out from the sycamore.

Another luxurious lick was administered. The rough tongue caressed and scratched at Larry’s sensitive hole. The wolf lost all sense of control and struggled to free himself from the hammock, to cling to his Alpha like a pup reborn. “Serve,” Alpha Pete barked, then gave another louder bark.

“Ah!” Larry shouted out in legitimate fear, surprise, and exhilaration.

“Wolf!” Alpha Pete called his other pack member forward. Tom crawled over quickly.

“Yes! Yes alpha!” Tom shouted, both in eagerness and also to be heard over his keening, moaning slut of a mate.

“Piss on him,” Alpha Pete barked. It wasn’t really necessary, the order. It was clear what was coming next. But the giving of orders was a part of the ceremony.

“Yes Lord! Yes, Alpha!” Tom panted. He sprung to his feet, and his stream rained down on Larry’s tummy. Alpha jumped and turned in place, the ground shuddering as he landed. A leg raised, his water soon followed.

Larry was treated to two searing hot streams. He shook and wiggled himself, laughing like a spoiled pig. He lapped at the urine that coated his face. Praise Luna, he wished his hands were free so he could rub it into his skin.

“Two scents,” Alpha barked. “Now one scent.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Larry panted in gratitude, relaxing his head back, overwhelmed with sensation. His nostrils flared and confirmed it. It was so; there was only one scent. His Alpha and his mate, combined into one wolfish stench, coating his belly, his face, his hair. There could be no division between his Alpha and his mate. It was all one. It was all pack.

Spank!

“Ah!!” Larry’s entire body jerked. Down below him, a now-crouching Tom dove into the feast on his mate’s reddening ass cheeks. With his Alpha’s signal, Tom withdrew. Another savage spank was administered.

Larry gave a lamenting bellow. But the spanking had been earned. Several more were administered, each stinging more, eliciting a louder holler with each succession.

Finally, blessedly, Larry sighed as his hole was stretched, and his Alpha’s cock came home.

The hammock groaned mightily as the large wolf’s weight was added to the load during the mounting. Tom was on the other side of the hammock, crouched down. With an eye towards his Lord Alpha, the large wolf approached his mate’s jerking, panting face. He and Larry frenched deeply, energetically. It was a struggle to keep their mouths together, Larry was being ploughed so vigorously in this make-shift sling. But the passion commanded it. Lary’s hole audibly squelched with each thrust, the sore pink cheeks clutching greedily at the pole, not wanting it to leave.

At one point, Alpha Pete withdrew his cock for a moment to regain his footing. Larry’s hole let out a loud massive wet fart, and a gush of liquid came out, pre-cum and Santorum. Still restrained, Larry let out a whelp of dismay and shame. His arms jerked as he tried to cover his face.

Alpha Pete batted the pack member’s face with his snout, getting his attention. Larry blinked and looked up at his Alpha, while Tom licked at one of Larry’s ears.

“Serve,” Alpha Pete barked out. And then darted his muzzle down to this wolf’s opening and gobbled down. Coming back up, the Alpha began administering a focused bath of Larry’s face, neck, chest. Getting the ass slick all over: his scent, Tom’s scent, Larry’s own. Now a union of three.

A few minutes more and Larry was reduced to a pathetic sputtering hole, quivering and begging for more reward. He was drunk on all the wets. And all the anger and resentment were gone. The Alpha had caused his mate pain, but it was in service of the pack. Larry’s pleasure was in service of the pack. His anger had no place.

The attitude adjustment concluded. Another few barks, and Tom became wolf too. Larry’s breathing calmed down as the two giant wolves above him administered a final clean tongue bath, scenting him once more.

A new nudges from Tom’s snout, and Larry’s wrists were untangled. (This wasn’t their first time at the rodeo). Larry leaned forward a bit to undo his own ankles, and tumbled out of the hammock in the process. The wolf in human form tumbled expertly into the leaves, coming out of a somersault unharmed. Larry then kneeled for a minute, his broad muscular back coated with leaves stuck to the drying spit. Until his Alpha came to him.

“I love you, Alpha,” Larry leaned forward and hugged his Alpha’s muscular neck, smelling his danger deeply. The Alpha nuzzled back. Tom came over too, and all three hugged then, an impromptu cuddle of two nude muscular men and a gigantic wolf, the size of a brown bear. Gradually, the wolf became a man. The kissing never ceased. A zoologist in a blind would have had a stroke at the sight. Larry and Tom pressed their faces into their Alpha’s pits, chest, body. Anything to get his scent upon them. Anything to become one with him. Anything for the pack. It was so so beautiful.

The three headed back to the cabin, their bare rears showing, one of them still sore pink and leaking. No additional apologies or even acknowledgment of the dispute was voiced. All that annoying useless human chatter was best left to the humans. And there were no humans in this cabin whatsoever. Praise Luna.

Barb’s phone rang at her desk. She raised an eyebrow—no caller ID. “Chief speaking,” the proud bull dyke answered.

“Barb, it’s Al.”

She sighed. Another call from this something-to-prove agent. His drive was commendable, but the guys just won’t take “trail’s run cold” for an answer.

“We’re going about this all wrong,” Al said through the line, not even pausing to let her reply. “We’ve been looking into Mullins, D’Ambrosio, and the three syndicate members. But what about the U.S. Park Ranger, the McBride guy?”

“We figured he was a collateral. Maybe killed or kidnapped after he observed something in the nature reserve,” Barb responded. “His record came up clean.”

“That’s just the thing!” Al said, triumph in his voice. “It isn’t clean! The arrest!”

“All the charges were dropped,” Barb reminded. “There wasn’t even an arraignment.”

“It’s just too fishy,” Al responded. “Beer being spilled on the server. That kept the ranger in for the weekend. It’s the oldest ruse in the book. And then low and behold, charges dropped before that Monday, easy as you like.”

“I know,” Barb sighed. “But the evidence ends there. And Chief Mullins and Ranger McBride were seen together multiple times afterwards, including by me. No evidence of resentment or anger.”

“No resentment or anger later,” Al sounded thought. “But at the time…”

The line was silent for moment, and then another.

“Agent, you still there?” the new chief asked. Her keys jangled on her belt loop as she leaned forward into her desk.

“Chief…” Al asked, his tone more intense. “You got the precinct’s phone records? Who did McBride use his one phone call for?”

“Bye, Yus,” the busboy winked as he finished pulling on his t-shirt and sauntered out Mountain Peaks’ front sliding door into the night, giving a final shake of his hips on the way.

The still-nude Yousef shouted a goodbye after him, and sighed in satisfaction. He slipped on a pair of compression shorts—no need for a shirt now—and put a note in the system for additional janitorial service. The floor behind the front desk smelled of Daniel’s and his own spunk, human sweat, and spit. Kid was insatiable. Yousef’s balls burned with absolute emptiness. The world-class tongue massage they’d received was the just compensation.

Daniel had been the last patron at Mountain Peaks’ that evening. Yousef had taken the night shift and had tapped the kid’s shoulder about closing hours. The busboy had looked up at the wolf from his weight bench, smelling of sex twice-over already that evening (Yousef tolerated the hook ups in Mountain Peaks’ showers, given he was now a frequent participant). Daniel gave a wink and a longing look. The two didn’t come up for air until a quarter past ten.

Praise Luna, Yousef chuckled at himself as he logged the computers out and turned off the reception area’s lights. Magic spells weren’t half bad. He felt absolutely crummy about Frank, and promised himself his gym buddy’s hex of loyalty would soon be broken. Somehow… But in the interim, he… well, tolerate was absolutely the wrong word, but the busboy would always be welcome, wrapped around his pole, of course.

Now he had to hurry. The rutting behind the desk had delayed him by over an hour. Yousef rushed to turn off the gym’s road sign, lock the front doors, gather up the stray towels and sweat rags, turn off the screens, and get in his evening prayers pointing toward Mecca. The helpful arrow he’d placed on the floor was smeared with slick now, but it still served its purpose. What all-loving God could condemn what Yousef had become? Yousef’s hole pulsed heavily at the fantasy of performing his Haj, and finding a world’s worth of bearded mondjugen gathered, ready to be brought into their birthright. The movements and recitations of salah were performed, and then each casting off his robes and loin cloth entirely. The scents of their pits, their pubes, their holes radiating needy musk while their barred muscles and begging faces radiated masculine beauty. Row upon row, cocking their heads, baring their necks, veins pulsing, skin flushed, chanting ‘Qumar Akbar’ and praying, keening for the bite.

Qumar Akbar, Yousef caught his breath at the idea. That was a beautiful image. Not realizing, not conceiving how much his outlook, his values, his mind was now completely transformed by his blessed enslavement to Luna.

The gym was dark and ghostly. Its smell was a swirl of body odor (men’s and women’s), cleaning solution, and the rubbers and plastics of workout equipment. Yousef loved it so. This gym was the best thing he’d ever done. Well, the best thing aside from the pack. Yousef shook his head in confusion for a second. It was sometimes hard for him to think of himself as an individual, in an intellectual way. The wolf’s adherence to pack made the phrase “I” sound a little awkward in his psyche.

It was… it was a good thing, Yousef finally nodded to himself. An amazing thing, the gym. The muscular hunk did a cartwheel down the empty aisle of cardio equipment, bare feet and hands, just because. It was a wonderful thing for the pack, for him.

The muscular hunk moved into the men’s room showers. Alpha Pete had directed that would be the forum for tonight’s ceremony. Yousef wasn’t quite sure what would transpire, besides it being the entire pack, and Mullins in trouble for his disobedience last night. Yousef had been shocked as the pack had given the rookie cop Zach over to Alpha Toddson, but he’d stay back. Thinking about it too hard made Yousef think about the horrors in the history books human chattel, and of his own in-danger relatives. So, Yousef didn’t think about it too hard at all; it was easier to just follow orders. In that, there was freedom.

Yousef was getting the knack of being a wolf.

The bare-chested stud turned the showers on in the mens’, every single one. Alpha Pete commanded it be wet and steamy.

Larry and Tom came into Mountain Peaks first, transforming from wolves in the back lot and entering via the rear. They stank of each other and of Alpha Pete. Yousef got a little chubbed up as he greeted the two nude hunks as they walked in. His spent cock found new inspiration. The three greeted each other amicably, Larry and Tom causally stripping Yousef of his Mountain Peaks’ branded compression shorts (why the hell had he even bothered getting dressed again, Yousef wondered, as Larry brought the garment down into a puddle at his feet… old habit die hard, I guess). They exchanged a few friendly tugs of each other’s poles, some smiling kisses, and then the mated pair went into the sauna-esque showers. Yousef sighed with a smile. Even in the worst of troubles, contact with the pack always set his mind right.

Bill came in next, driving in Alpha Pete’s Wrangler, carrying a canvas ruck sack. He looked chill and chipper and stank of… Daniel? A quick consultation confirmed it; yeah, Daniel had flagged him down on the road from his Vespa, and administered some amazing road head. The busboy moaned in dismay when Bill shoved him off from an attempted round two. The two wolves both shook their heads. Poor Daniel. Lucky Daniel.

Yousef and Bill fell into an energetic kiss as the smaller one shuffled out of his jeans. He got a friendly swat on his ass as the tatted-up wolf headed into the showers, still carrying the rucksack. Yousef had a shit-eating grin now. He loved his pack.

Alpha Pete stank preceded him at the gym. Yousef’s cock grew to full mast as he walked to the rear door to prop it open. The back lot gave wave after wave of ever-stronger scent, soon followed by subtle ramblings in the woods. Finally, a minute later, his Lord Alpha and Mullins approached from the woods, wolves coming across the asphalt.

A bark from Alpha Pete, and the wolves allowed their men’s bodies to assert themselves. Alpha Pete stepped out of his paws and into a bipedal stance, Mullins transforming too, his drooped ears transferring to a sheepish face.

Inspiration struck, and Yousef found himself on one knee by the rear door, head down. Like a knight in King Arthur’s court, with amazing muscles that rivaled the proportions and weight that any suit of armor could offer.

Alpha Pete was legitimately touched as he walked up. Yousef continued to look down. He received an unseen hand on his head. “Good boy,” Alpha Pete murmured appreciatively, and then tousled Yousef’s close-cropped raven hair, just long enough to reveal the start of its curl.

Yousef sighed appreciatively. His Alpha then reached down and caressed the wolf’s beard, pulling his chin up so Yousef could look upon his Lord Alpha.

“Arise, wolf,” Alpha Pete whispered.

Yousef stood up, never breaking eye contact.

The two wolves observed each other for a moment, taking in each other’s scent. Then Alpha Pete’s right hand came down quickly and possessively grabbed a hunk of Yousef bare plumb ass.

Yousef grunted, his mouth gasping, the moment of quiet dignity ending.

“You’ve been faithful to leg day,” Alpha Pete savored the thickness. His large hand squeezed possessively.

Yousef nodded, breathing, savoring.

“Two days a week?” Alpha Pete asked, all still a whisper.

Yousef nodded.

“Make it three.” Spank! It came without warning.

“Ah!” Yousef hollered out. Praise Luna! He panted in shock and in satisfaction.

The nude Mullins followed his Lord Alpha inside, not saying a word. Yousef could smell his sadness, even during his distracted panting. Poor dear, the wolf fretted after his pack brother. Yousef went back into a kneel to refocus himself. He rubbed his right cheek, savoring the fading sting.

And Carlos…? Yousef raised an eyebrow. He got up, and walked out to the parking lot, threadless and unashamed, his hard penis and balls bobbing in between his muscle thighs. It was too rural to fret about seeing neighbors, and all of Yousef’s prior human shame about nudity had eroded away long ago. If you’d asked him about it, human’s adherence about clothing would now mystify him. Clothes were for maintaining cover, not for covering. His beautiful doe eyes would look at you incredulously.

Where are you, Carlos?.. Yousef sniffed the wind. Pines, earth, a rotting deer strike on Route 9 (another one???). The three decomposing bodies, of course, buried under earth, gravel, and retired exercise equipment piled still in a heap. A far-off skunk, the last of the Black-Eyed Susans… Nothing…

Sniff… sniff… sniff—bingo! Yousef’s eyes widened as they turned amber, and he smiled. The exhaust of the F150. Fresh and clean; Carlos never let an oil change slide.

Yousef gave a manly bark to the gym. Even in the form of man, some wolf calls just translated seamlessly.

Bill poked his head out the back door, and the scents of Tom and Alpha Pete spilled out too.

The truck approached. Carlos’ scent was picked up. And… sniff… sniff… sniff!!

Another wolf!

Clear as day, fresh as dripping blood. Another wolf. Unscented!! A trespasser. Praise Luna.

A thought asserted itself in Yousef’s head. So strong, it made the man in him gasp. His wolf ears bloomed out, and the man toppled forward as his pelvis turned inside out and his glutes withered, tail thrashing.

The trespasser must die.

The wolves all piled out of Mountain Peaks’ back door into the gravel parking lot, sniffing and howling, transforming rapidly. The earth tremored as Alpha Pete’s front paws hit the ground. It was all barking, snarling, pissing and grunting. The smell got closer. And closer.

The cherry red F150 rounded the corner of the gym’s exterior brick walls and spun into the back lot. The wolves knew enough to duck out of the way. The smallest, Bill jumped atop the parked wrangler, his tail thrashing, fur on his back raised. Yousef was on the hood, scrambling up mid-transformation, his voice mangling into a snarl as his snout asserted itself. Tom stalked the perimeter of the lot, keeping low to the ground, Larry going counterclockwise the other direction, Mullins guarding the lot’s exit, and the Lord Alpha gave a half-chase of the truck it drove in a tight circle, their leader then staying close to the circle’s center as it orbited him.

The trespasser must die, Yousef’s mind asserted. And he found no reason now to dispute that.

It was no full moon night. The wolves all had their full faculties. But some things are more primal, more important. Territory, pack, Alpha, stranger. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. The trespasser must die.

Yousef breathed in and out deeply. He thrilled and fretted at the same time. He could barely control his rage—it came from nowhere. Yousef felt he would act upon it without hesitation. The trespasser must die.

Carlos was observed visually in the truck’s cab. The wolves’ dim vision revealed him to be grinning like a fool. He did donuts across the back lot, creating huge squeals that hurt the packs’ ears. The truck zoomed past the parked Wrangler. Bill and Yousef leaped off of it to the safe shelter behind it the hulk of metal, gasoline, and rubber.

Another donut and the truck lurched to a stop. The chassis swayed back and forth, the suspension complaining. Carlos jumped out, still in his red boxers and flipflops.

“Where is the intruder?!?!” Alpha Pete charged forward. The others followed form all sides, pacing around sweet cherry red. The stench was noxious. It deeply offended all of them. A stranger, not of their pack, on their land. Unscented.

“I got us a visitor,” Carlos still in manly form smiled. “Thought he could hide in the truck bed. So I went for a joy ride. All day long.” The strong hunk of man strode to the back of the truck, and pulled down the tailgate. In the truck bed was the tarp and canvas, and the Mullins chain. Carlos took a good handful, and drug the entire mess out on to the cracked grey asphalt.

“Ay!!” a human mouth swore out as it landed, wiggling and struggling in the tarp. “Mother fucker!!”

“Kill him!” Alpha Pete barked. Snouts bit and gnawed at the clumped tarp and canvas. Carlos smiled and jumped in the air, coming down a wolf, fur tufted, and fangs barred. This was gonna be good.

“Parlay!!” the creature in the tarp shouted. The voice was muffled and desperate. “Parlay!! Please, Alpha Pete. Please!”

Alpha Pete let out a growl. A parlay was unorthodox for a trespasser; no punishment was too good for an intruder who had not offered up his ass to be scented at their borders. But… this might be a wolf from Alpha Toddson’s pack… Yes… sniff… sniff… It was!… no… it couldn’t be…

“Stand down!” Alpha Pete barked. All the wolves paused, giving whines of complaint and disappointment. One more bark from Alpha Pete and all backed up a few steps.

“Carlos, rip the tarp off,” Alpha Pete ordered. The strong and large wolf came forward, clamped down, and tugged.

The tarp came off. And Latino Nando’s shivering self, nude and sweaty, was revealed.

“Parlay! Por favor, Parlay!” the Latin man pled, putting his hands over his face. He knew the stakes, the possibilities, the likely fate of an invader.

“Enjoy your pleasure cruise, shithead?!” Carlos barked, laughing as he spat out the tarp and joined the circle of wolves around the curled-up man.

“Fucker! That was at least six hours on the road!” Nando spat at him. “I’m banged and bruised all over, pendejo! Self-destructive shit! You almost ran us off the road like ten times!!” the wolf shouted in anger. A growl from the other wolves and he quieted.

“Explain yourself,” Alpha Pete growled. “Alpha Toddson’s gonna be furious his piece of ass ran off. Full story. Now. Before we rip you to shreds,” the Alpha was now in a crouch. All the wolves lowered their ears and likewise crouched.

“Permission to join your pack, Alpha Pete!” Nando kneeled and bowed. “Please don’t ki—”

“What’s wrong with your pack? Where is your loyalty?” Alpha Pete snarled back. This could be a trap. Pack swaps and defections traditionally took place at territory boundaries, just as Zach was moved over that prior evening. Just as Bill had come to the pack half a year ago, howling at the Southern boundary until Alpha Pete and Carlos heard the call and came to fetch him.

“I was worried you wouldn’t let me. If… I… I stayed… at the border,” Nando panted, scared. “Claro, I could see you were a good and kind Alpha, Alpha Pete. Toddson’s—”

“Alpha Toddson,” Alpha Pete growled. He batted the man with his paw, sending him sprawling to his side. Respect was owed.

“Alpha Toddson,” Nando panted. “He’s cruel. He’s—it’s all head games with him… It’s all a mindfuck,” the wolf in human form panted. Never appreciating just how much Luna had irrevocably fucked with his mind. “Permission to transform, Lord Alpha.” Nando kneeled again. Hair began to appear on the ridges of his ears. It was hard to keep the focus required to remain a man with so much fear, so much sensation.

The wolves around him panted and paced nervously. By all rights, this wolf should be put to death. But their Alpha did not bark his direction. The longer this went on…

“No. Stay a man. Wolves!” Alpha Pete spoke then. He looked down at the human, his glowing yellows intense. So muscular, so well-practiced in hunting, in fighting, no rookie scent to him. A well-tested pack brother… “We have a willing wolf in our midst. And our own pack down a member. We need our seven.”

“What?” Carlos looked over. “No! He needs t—”

“He needs to submit!” Alpha Pete barked back. Nando stayed in his crouch; his panting now tinged with relief.

Alpha Pete walked forward, and all the wolves—Nando included—tensed up. The large wolf nudged the man with his snout, bidding him to look up.

“Yes, Alpha Pete,” Nando obeyed, and whispered.

“State the oath, fucker.”

“By…” Nando breathed. “By Luna’s light, I swear my heart, my… my paw, my ass…” The wolf paused, struggling. He panted, in despair and a bit of a laugh to. “I’m sorry, Alpha, it’s not my first language.”

“The oath,” Alpha Pete barked again. Another bat of the paw knocked the swarthy man sideways.

“By Luna’s light, I swear my heart, my paw, my ass,” Nando tried again. He swallowed. “To brotherhood, through every trial… um… passed. My fealty to the Alpha, fierce, true. To pack, to wolf, to…” Nando looked lost. “I… I’m sorry, Alpha Pete, I cannot remember the last part.”

There was a moment’s pause. “Funny…” Alpha Pete finally chuckled. “Neither can I.”

Carlos groaned. A disgrace to Luna, both of them.

“Good enough,” Alpha Pete nodded.

Nando started to get up. The large Alpha batted him down with his head. Not yet.

“Now, pup,” Alpha Pete leaned in close. “I want the whole story. The entire story. Every pathetic detail. Alpha Toddson’s going to be boiling mad I stole you away.”

“Fair’s fair,” Tom chimed in. “He got the fresh mondjugen.”

“Silence!” Alpha Pete barked to all. Back to Nando. “Details. But first, you’re due for a scenting. Each and every one of us. Inside you, until dawn. Until your slut hole won’t close and your tummy bursts.”

Nando shuddered, both in fear and dread, but also in titillation and tantalization. His human hole began to twitch, his ass scent becoming more prominent. The wolves around him stirred, feeling their arousals.

“We’re in for a busy night tonight,” Alpha Pete observed. “To much talking, not enough action.” He grabbed the human gently by the wrist and began dragging him in a controlled crawl. “To the showers! How spoiled you’ll all be, boys! A shaving and a scenting!”

“A shaving?” Yousef asked himself as he took up the rear, the others piling into the opaqueness of the absolute sauna the showers had become. Gonna be a hefty water bill this month.

Mullins was on all fours, in man form. He’d endured the humiliation of being shaved bare, moustache included. The naked mole rat of a man had been brought down. The display of independence, or dedication to something other than his Alpha, could not be tolerated.

But through it all, Mullins gritted his teeth and took it. He’d lost count of the scentings he’d received.

Bill withdrew himself, and the Chief gave a guttural groan as his Lord Alpha stepped to enter him yet again. He arched his back and tried to maximize the amount of skin he could get to connect to the Alpha wolf mounting his plump man ass.

Only a wet rag was on the floor, the only thing offering relief to his knees.

Alongside him, the wolf Larry grunted as he released a pint into the keening Nando. Nando was also in man form. No wolfhood was deserved until the stench of Alpha Toddson was plunged out, and Alpha Pete and his brethren’s essence was plastered all over this wolf, inside and out.

The dark showers were lit only by the twin yellow lights and wolves moved to and fro. Pairings came and went. Bonds reestablished. One pack. One fuck. One. The showers left the wolves sopping wet, but it was a nice bath of sorts. The wolves’ barks echoed across the tiled walls, and the drains became half-stopped up with fur and cum. It was a beautiful thing.

Yousef was waiting his turn for a third crack at Nando’s hole, when the scent came through the mist… Men. Many men. And dogs. Many dogs. Many many many dogs.

“Shit…” Yousef whispered. Bill noticed it next, and then Tom. Then all the wolves. Shit…

“I have a warrant to search the premises,” the FBI Agent, tall and blond, held out the paperwork. He eyed the soaking wet Yousef, wearing a Mountain Peaks polo-shirt and athletic shorts pulled on inside out. The gym owners’ feet were bare, the hair on his legs plastered wet against his legs in waving patterns of wet.

“I see that,” Yousef breathed, looking at the paper. Cops were swarming the front office of the gym, opening drawers, seizing computers and files. Outside, seemingly twenty blood hounds were barking from their dog carriers in the open backs of law enforcement-branded SUVs. “But what the hell for?”

“We’ve got several missing criminal syndicate members, with reason to believe they were murdered in this area. Plus, a missing police officer believed dead, Zachary D’Ambrosio, and a U.S. Park Ranger also missing. And two AWOL officers, Mullins and Ruiz. Evidence indicating the park ranger may have been mixed up in all this, perhaps as an accessory.”

The FBI agent was enjoying this way too much, Yousef thought. He struggled not to look back at the mens’ shower entrance where the other wolves were still sheltering.

“Seth was as straight as an arrow,” Yousef protested.

“You could think that,” the FBI agent. “But he was arrested several months ago on murder and aggravated robbery charges. They were waived before the arraignment, which tells me some kind of corruption at the police precinct. And his one call from jail…” the FBI Agent paused.

Oh no… Yousef thought.

“Was to you,” the FBI Agent unnecessarily completed the sentence. “Okay, boys,” he shouted back out the forced-open front doors of Mountain Peaks. “Let out the bloodhounds.”

[Hello, wolf brothers. The plot thickens, and the pack is in trouble. But no reason to not have fun along the way. I am eager to hear feedback to see how you’re all receiving it. Keep the comments coming. Thoughtful messages, ideas, praise, and critiques are greatly welcomed (in the cmmts or direct messages). Those really keep me going. Cheers, gents!]

Cast of Characters:

• Alpha Pete, giant hulk of a wolfman, red-headed and bearded, tries to do right by his pack

• Carlos, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Latino, jungle-gym of muscle, likes a tightly run pack, morose over the loss of his mate Hakim

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

• Larry, of Alpha Pete’s pack, talkative brunette gentlemen, distrustful of humans, mated to Tom, from Tennessee

• Mullins, of Alpha Pete’s pack, former Police Chief, newly divorced after his wolfhood, and newly shaven, dedicated to duty and to Alpha Pete, but starting the branch out

• Yousef, of Alpha Pete’s pack, Lebanese personal trainer and owner of Mountain Peaks gym, Seth’s crush and coming into his own, devote Muslim with a burgeoning spanking kink

• Bill, of Alpha Pete’s pack, hairy and muscular, sweet and playful, eager bottom with sleeve tattoos, works at Mountain Peaks Gym

• Nando of Alpha Pete’s pack, tough, guarded, athletic and horny.

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

• Daniel, hardworking Latin busboy at Xochitl’s diner, gay and sweet, handsome but a confirmed non-mondjugen

• Frank, silver fox lawyer with some video editing skills and a passion for drumming. Yousef’s personal training client at Mountain Peaks Gym.

• Nicolás, a DUI in a holding cell, who’s just getting a whiff of better things to come

• Alpha Toddson, silver Alpha of the South Territory, a silver daddy and uneasy frenemy of Alpha Pete

• Zach of Alpha Toddson’s pack, rookie cop and mondjugen, recently traded for Alpha Pete’s pack’s territorial integrity—for now.

• FBI Agent Allen (Al) Braithwaite, investigating the disappearances of mafiosos (Zach’s cousins) in the region, and also trying to find himself.

• Barb, proud bull dyke Chief of Police, taking over for the AWOL Mullins. Deadly serious about her profession, but not without a wry sense of humor.

“Qunice… Diez y seis… grunt… Diez y siete… unh… Diez… y ocho… unnh… Diez y Nueve… unnnhhh—”

“Come on, pup, you got this,” Alpha Pete urged from the adjacent cell.

“Shhhhh!” Yousef shushed from the cell in the other direction over.

“… Vente!” Carlos panted, letting go of the piping near the ceiling, and landing on his bare feet with a thud.

“Good job!” Alpha Pete grinned. “Fourth set in 10 minutes!”

“I said I’m not talking to you!” Carlos spun around, and headed back to doing step-ups, using the cell block bed as his platform, as he balled his fists together for balance.

“We’ve been through this, chico,” Alpha Pete rolled his eyes from behind the bars. The stud was barely able to fit into the precinct’s largest size of pants, and the shirt was basically painted on. “Twenty LEOs surrounding us. Fifty dogs. We’d have won in a fight, but not before at least a few had radioed out just what they saw. Surrendering was a necessary evi—”

“Quiet! All of you!” And Mullins made four, in the cell on the other side of Alpha Pete. All in a row, one after another, Yousef, Carlos, Alpha Pete, and the Chief. A DUI took up the fifth cell, nearest the cell block’s door. The human snoozed away, obvious to the wolf drama around him.

“Just zip it!” the wolf shushed. “They may have listening devices,” Mullins, now locked up in his own precinct, eyed the ceiling corners nervously.

Carlos pointedly ignored the chief. “In the old days,” he muttered between breaths, “we’d have butchered los pendejos. Netted any mondjugen and killed the rest of them.” The mattress squeaked mightily beneath his step-ups. The stud’s thighs pumped, as powerful as a bison’s and just as thick. “Now we’re like a bunch of pathetic Frenchie’s in a kennel, waiting for our belly rubs.”

“Necessary evi—” Alpha Pete tried to insert.

“Might as well neuter us tambien,” Carlos shouted again. “For all the good these balls are doing us, putting our hands up like that!” Yousef winced; Carlos was truly upset.

Yet even in his anger, the wolf still blinked and moved back at bit as Alpha Pete tried to swing at him with his tree trunk of an arm through the bars of their adjacent cells.

“Won’t be nothing left to neuter once I’m done with you, pup!” Alpha Pete barked, echoing against the unkind cinderblock.

One cell in the other direction, Mullins rubbed his temples. He above all knew the importance of ‘right to remain silent.’

Then some clinks and clanks arouse. The scent of man, and of uniform cloth, and of gun oil emerged. Then their ears picked up on the harsh footsteps of standard issue uniform boots. Officer Mikulski was performing the hourly cell check. It was a full house this morning, he whistled as he entered.

“Hello handsome,” Alpha Pete flirted, from behind his cell bars, at the husky officer. “I need you to take a look at something.”

“Shut up,” the rookie cop barely looked his way as he paced the block.

“No, seriously,” Alpha Pete continued, his voice syrupy. Yousef, Carlos, and Mullins, all in orange, looked yonder from their respective holding cells. “I have an injury. Might need the nurse.”

Mikulski sighed. A medical check request could not be denied. Court injunctions, you know. “All right,” the doughy man rotated on his heel and headed back down the line. “This better be good.” Mikulski came to face the caged Alpha, and said “show me.”

“Right here on my side,” Alpha Pete lifted his shirt from his side in one fluid motion, baring his muscular torso. The fabric tore for its trouble. His right pec, tight abs, and flaring lats bloomed under the fluorescent lights. More importantly, his ripe armpit opened to the air, sending a plume of scent at point blank range into the human’s face.

The human police officer screwed his mouth in a grimace and backed up a step. All the wolves looked expectantly.

“Jesus, that reeks!” Officer Mikulski backed up more. “Fucking animal!” (he didn’t know how right he was). “Gonna have to hose that cell down after you’ve been in all night.” The rookie turned back. “Really funny,” the human muttered as he walked his spit-n-polish uniform out of the cell block. The detainees were left with their thoughts.

“Not a mondjugen?” Yousef asked. He adjusted his stance a bit. The muscular wolf smiled a bit at himself. Damn, that scent sure made him randy.

“No,” Alpha Pete dropped his detainee shirt top, more rag than garment at this point. “Not a mondjugen. Shit, we had a one in twenty-eight shot…” The Alpha shrugged and sat down on the cell bed, the frame complaining mightily at the weight.

In the last cell, Mullins sighed, adjusting himself as well. The DUI in the final cell snoozed noisily. He’d been there already when the three pack members were brought in to be booked, fingerprinted, photographed, and led to their cells. Their pre-trial arraignment was first thing in the morning.

Irony, Mullins looked about. He’d used to book arrestees himself. Mullins had been really proud of that life. He drummed his fingers on the cell bars. Not that he regretted wolfhood. The gift of Luna—the power, the speed, the sex, the brotherhood, the musk… the everything…

Still, it would have been nice to not have it all culminate in being in the cell block that he himself used to manage.

And managed pretty badly, Mullins looked about. Damn, but this place was cleaned up! Fresh coat of paint, floors mopped, toilets that didn’t stink of human waste. Downright pleasant. Thanks Barb, the Chief nodded to himself. She was a badass bitch. Glad to see that she got the prize, out of all the fuck ups he’d worked with. And then he shivered again.

Jesus, but being hairless really made a difference in terms of temperature!

The shaving was why they’d been gathered that prior night. His shaving. His shaming. His rebirth.

Alpha Pete had explained his pup had become too attached to the mondjugen Zach. He needed a reset. Shaving was a rare ceremony, a bit like an intervention. A reproachment and a second chance. Now Mullins would grow again into wolfhood and take on all its hairy problems (pun intended) refreshed. Mullins was unsure about its effect. When he thought of Zach now, from his cell, he still felt the intense affection, attraction, and protectiveness. Mullins was eager to make it work; he remembered his own struggles in basic, and his later rookie years on the force. IT wasn’t all easy or straightforward. But he’d made it then as a weak and feeble man. There was no telling what he could accomplish now as a strong and driven wolf. Perhaps things would look different to him in the light of day. Or the light of night, Mullins grinned to himself, the first time he’d smiled since they’d been drug into this pit.

“Mullins,” Yousef called from down the line, shaking his wolf brother out of his reverie. Yousef stepped a bit, his flip flops flopping and flipping as he adjusted himself further. The officers could not find prison shoes in the wolves 14+ sizes, hence the sandals. Yousef winced. The pants were too tight now too.

Alpha’s scent really packed an enduring punch in this confined space, all the wolves were beginning to realize. “What now?”

“Huh?” Mullins looked up.

“You’re the expert. What now?” Yousef raised his voice a bit, to overcome Carlos’ loud panting as he transitioned to rapid-fire push-ups.

“We’ll be arraigned tomorrow morning,” the Chief started in. “Assigned a court-appointed attorney unless we offer up one. Make pleas and see what the bail terms are.”

Yousef looked at him strangely. “No, I mean what now?”

Mullins returned a blank gaze. If he still had his moustache, it would have twitched.

“How—do—we—escape?” Yousef whispered fiercely. Alpha Pete turned his eyes up at his pack member.

“We don’t, ass!” Mullins seethed back, trying to keep it down. He eyed the dozing DUI, who smelled like beer and the usual human musk. Inebriation could cast doubt during testimony, but he could still be a witness if they woke him.

Carlos grunted in discomfort from the cell floor where was now attempting sit-ups, albeit with difficulty from his full-grown erection. Alpha’s scent had inspired his wolfhood too.

“We’re lucky to get off with just the charges that we did,” Mullins noted, shifting his seat, bringing his hand up to his crotch, but consciously bringing it down. Not in here, he fretted. “Escaping custody will make everything worse. Every LEO in the county will come out.”

“They already did,” Alpha Pete. He leaned back on his cell bed, and brought his hands behind his head, barring his pits with the pride of a priest swinging a censer. What the hell, the Alpha grinned. All his pack members growled as they received him in their nostrils.

The police sweep that descended upon Mountain Peaks Gym was flummoxed on what charges to bring.

The entire scene was bizarre, even to the most salt-and-pepper daddies in the force. Giant muscular hairy men, one after another, emerged soaking wet and nude from the showers, a combination of sheepish wet dogs and clowns from a car. After some incredulous back and forth looks between suspects and the assembled force, the bossy blond FBI agent shouted for the men to assemble against the wall, keeping their hands visible. The apparent leader—the largest man, tall, strong, with a red trim beard and obviously steroid-aided muscles, gave a short nod and bark, and the group complied, their bare assess plump and pulsing as they sauntered over.

The FBI agent had cursed a bit then, and one or two of the more observant supporting cops, guns drawn, noticed him covering up an erection.

The FBI agent had cursed himself again when he saw the man from the lake. The amazingly beautiful one, pumped muscles, brunette, with the sugary southern accent, the one who’d almost bewitched him during the canine sweeps he’d been leading on the national parks’ periphery, just days before. The handsome man, naked again (does he ever wear clothes?!?), eyeing him knowingly from across the gum floor, but did not react otherwise.

Again, the charges… Mountain Peaks’ office, storage room, and the interior premises turned up nothing obviously illegal or incriminating. Outside, it was chaos of the police. The blood hounds were a total wreck. As soon as the canines were released from their carriers, it was immediately a cacophony of howls. Initial snuffles at the dirt made them disoriented, mad, either rolling in the earth compulsively or else bucking and straining to get away off their leads. The dogs turned to frantic barking pulling at their leads. Any hope of organized tracking was lost. The canine handlers were sent scrambling. All discipline fell apart. The dogs just wouldn’t track, wouldn’t heel, wouldn’t anything. The force went feral.

The nude men in the gym watched as the FBI agent and the police force leads argued animatedly through the front glass sliding doors. Beyond them, there was a tableau of hound dogs gone mad, barking, rolling, whining, chasing their tails without remedy. The red-headed one had smirked. Good boys, he murmured at the disturbed dogs.

Finally, after forty-five minutes of trying to focus the dogs and sweep the property, the FBI agent stormed back into the gym, his face beet red. A cop outside uttered a phrase “…no probable cause. Can’t dig.”

Against the wall, the large red head gave another small grin.

“Why are you smiling?!” the agent stormed up to Alpha Pete. The Alpha was a fill head taller than the human, who was 6’2” himself, without shoes.

The two stared at one another, wordlessly, for about ten seconds. All held their breath, the seven naked hunks and the twenty or so humans who had followed in after the agent once they’d penned the hounds back up.

“Book ‘em, boys,” the unblinking human stated, and then spun on his heels and stalked out.

“With what?” one of the officers complained.

Without the criminal syndicate members’ bodies they had hoped for, the police had lost all hope of a federal case. “Prostitution-related offenses” had been thrown about, but there was no proof the evident orgy the men had been enjoying was anything but free. At booking, Yousef was charged with operating a ‘health club’ without a licence. Alpha Pete, Carlos, and Mullins were still considered AWOL from the precinct, so “dereliction of duty” and “absence without official leave” was added to their rap sheets. Finally, Mullins had “contempt of court” for his unpaid alimony and “failure to pay child support.” And a partridge in a pear tree.

Al eyed Larry as he was departing with the four wolves in custody. The man, plus Tom, Bill and newbie Nando remained at Mountain Peaks as the entire law enforcement drove off, leaving a stench of diesel, dog, and man dick. That blond FBI guy sure had been aroused the whole time, the other wolves all marvelled.

“Relax boys,” Alpha Pete shushed as he stretched his arms extra wide in a yawn, enjoying his effect on his brethren. “Now that By-The-Book is gone,” he eyed at the departed Mikulski, “time to trigger my insurance policy.” The large man, sat up, swinging his legs around to touch the ground, then fluidly reaching under the mattress.

The other wolves, their eyes slightly dazed, their nostrils twitching, their cocks fully hard, watched expectantly.

After a few moments, Alpha Pete grimaced. “It’s gone,” he said sadly.

“What’s gone?” Mullins asked.

“The crowba—” Alpha Pete started to answer. He grasped and flailed increasingly franticly below the bed. “Damnit, it’s not there!”

“Ha!” the bare Mullins felt a little bit of triumph. Once a police officer…

Alpha Pete looked up, his eyes intense. “Oh, really…”

Mullins blinked. He’d mistepped. Fuck. “I’m sorry, Alpha!!”

“Oh really,” Alpha Pete murmured again, his volume dropping to a near whisper. He gave a grow, and a wave of new pheromones hit all of them at point-blank range.

“I didn’t mean it!” the Chief pleaded. He was locked in a separate cell; there was no danger of a beating. But his instincts screamed wariness.

Yousef looked on from his own cell. A moan escaped his mouth. Carlos paused his pouting and crunches and returned the moan. All the wolves were hard. And leaking.

“Who’s the Alpha?” the larger wolf growled. In another fluid motion, he ripped the poor, poor shirt off his shoulders and torso. The Alpha was now bare-chested, every ripple and mound of muscle brought into relief under the fluorescent lighting.

All three other wolves grunted involuntarily. The scent poured off the largest wolf’s bare muscular back and chest. Yousef unconsciously walked up to the wall of bars closet to his Alpha, sniffing in more.

Carlos gave a low growl of his own, eyeing Yousef. On the other side of their Alpha, Mullins was full-on panting.

“Who’s the alpha!?” Alpha Pete asked again, taking a step forward towards the Chief. He leaned forward, raising his arms above his head at forty-five degrees. The Alpha’s callused hands gripped the cool cell bars that separated he and Mullins. His pits were now completely open and radiating musk. A rank fart was heard, adding to the fun. Alpha Pete gave a gratuitous puff, as if blowing out a birthday cake. The air wafted over to the quivering Mullins on his bed.

Mullins grunted. His faculties were breaking down. What wolf could hope to keep his cool? “You are, Alpha! You are!” The damn burst. The Chief rushed to the bars, pressing his clean-shaven face in between the metal rods, sniffing rapidly, flailing wildly with his constrained arms.

Alpha Pete stayed out of range. He grinned evilly. Every Alpha loves putting his pack members into a frenzy. “Let’s hear it again! Who’s your Alpha!” He moved himself just within range of Mullins’ reach.

“You are!!” the smaller wolf brayed, thrashing his hands at his Lord Alpha, his hands scooping at the larger wolf’s flesh, hair, sweat. Mullins frantically brought his hands back, licking at his fingers, and wiping his hands against his face, desperately rubbing the scent in.

Two cells over, Yousef grunted, breathing deeply at the sight. He was so focused on the sight two cells away, he didn’t notice Carlos coming near until his pack brother in the adjacent cell reached through and caressed the wolf’s junk through his prison scrubs. Yousef looked over at Carlos, and the mystified gasp turned to a grin. It was no use approaching their Alpha—a cell of iron and an entire universe away. But the scent was inspiring, and the hot hot flesh of his pack brother was right here.

Yousef and Carlos began heavily making out in a gap of the bars of their adjoining cell. The larger wolf skilfully helped Yousef shimmy out of his tight shirt, and precinct-issued pants, the elastic band straining for its life to hurdle over Yousef’s impressive bubble.

Mullins was punch drunk now, whelping and licking at the air like a blind pup. Alpha Pete stepped forward gradually, growling and breathing, until finally the straining pack members’ tongue met with his Alpha’s clothed crotch.

“Hands off,” Alpha Pete barked harshly. Mullins dutifully withdrew his quivering paws. “Feast,” his Lord Alpha finally spoke.

Mullins began gnawing at his Alpha’s crotch through the cheap prison textile, his pathetic man muzzle barely able to reach through the bars.

Carlos’s own man muzzle was also pressed in between two bars as he and Yousef heavily frenched each other. The wolf’s devilish hands extended at a lower point through the bars, massaging his nude pack brothers’ hole and cock. Inspired, Carlos brought his hands up quickly, and with his indication, Yousef slobbered all over them. The personal trainer grinned shamelessly as Carlos swooped in again upon him, his thick-lipped Latin mouth swallowing Yousef’s groans as lubed-up hands rapped themselves around the smaller and hairier wolf’s pole and dove in between his full ass cheeks.

Carlos still missed Hakim; his passion for his lost mate had not diminished. But his Alpha’s scent, and Yousef’s being hot as fuck… well, what wolf could hope to resist?

The cell doors and walls rattled. No human had ever disturbed them this much. But there was only one human in the entire cell block, still snoozing away.

“We used to have such fun times here,” Alpha Pete whispered, grunting in satisfaction as his pack member chewed through the pant fabric and greedily began sucking him off.

It was true. The Chief, in his human life, has first learned the art of giving head in these cells. That night they locked up Seth, Alpha Pete laughed, feeling sad for a second but also happy at the memory. It was almost six months ago now…

Mullins was beyond rational thought at this point, just a sucking, drooling pig, groaning in victory and in sensation.

“Nice,” Alpha Pete grunted, more to himself. He withdrew quickly from the protesting Mullins. With the Chief’s face pressed between the bars, Alpha Pete began whipping his cock against his pack brothers’ face. “You want it, pup?”

“Yeah!! Yeah!!” Mullins wagged his tongue, his entire body pressing against the bars. The wolf lost his self-control and tried to grab at his alpha with his hands, but those were quickly batted away.

“Who’s your Alpha!” Alpha Pete barked, giving a couple of savage bats of his cock against Mullins face. The male member was of the beer can thickness that you’ve heard tell about. The thumps and whacks left lines of pre-cum across the chief’s face. Mullins’ tongue wagged, straining to catch the cock and to lick up the spunk all at once. The wolf was in a fever pitch of passion now. Only his Alpha’s cock mattered now. The rest of the world fell away.

The metal bars began to bend a bit as Mullins continued to press. Alpha Pete raised an eyebrow. Wow—that was unexpected.

A grunt came from the other end of the cell block. Alpha Pete glanced over and smiled, seeing Carlos and Yousef in the haze of rut. Fuck yes, the Alpha grinned. He loved what sluts his pack members were.

Yousef now pressed his backside against the cell bars. The larger wolf had his arms wrapped around the smaller spoon, the bars still between them. Carlos’ tumescent Latin cock plunged in and out of the luxuriating bottom. Yousef tried to keep it down, but his insides were on fire, his own dark penis pulsing and bobbing rapidly, his ball sack pulled up good and tight.

Yousef gritted his teeth, self-muffling his animalist moans. “Yes… please… yes,” the wolf whispered. “Fuck me… Fuck me, please… fuck me, bro!” Losing his faculties, Yousef began murmuring is passionate broken Arabic.

To steady himself better, Yousef reach his arms up and gripped the bars above his head and behind him, displaying his amazing pecs, hairy full pecs, and powerful arms. The stainless-steel mirror against the wall on the other side of the cell only allowed a ghost-like dancing blob of a reflection; it was a damn shame prisons do not allow glass. With his hands now anchoring his body, Yousf arched his muscular back and pressed his callipygian ass against the bars. He needed it deeper. He needed it.

Carlos’ right hand stroked and pinched at Yousef’s amazing chest, while his left snaked through the bars, hooked on to his pack brother’s left knee, and lifted. Both wolves moaned, savouring their slutty acrobatics as Yousef perched on his right leg, the left knee lifted higher than an OSU marching band step, his ass spread open and at an angle, locked in with Carlos’ cock.

The line of bars between them quivered. It was a miracle of human engineering they held steady.

“Slap his ass,” Alpha Pete shouted, unseen, as the couple were facing away. “Pig likes that!”

“Little pig, little pig,” Carlos whispered into the shuddering bottom’s ear, as the hand at Yousef’s nipples moved to its next task. “Let me come in.”

Smack!

“Ugh!!” Yousef spat out, writhing his head at the sensation. His powerful arms flexed, his hands maintaining an iron gripped the iron above his head. Sweat poured down from his pits across the contours of his flanks.

“Jesus Christo, I love what a piggy you’ve become,” another throaty whisper came into Yousef’s ear.

Smack!

“Ahh!” Yousef threw his head back in reflex. It clanged against the bars behind him, with an accompanying lament of pain. Carlos paused his administrations for a second to kiss the back of Yousef’s head and ensure his pack brother was okay. After a few more moments of gasping, Yousef nodded for it to continue.

Smack!

Yousef barked, losing himself to wolfhood, slamming his spread-out rump against the bars, trying desperately to get an angle where the dick could dip deeper. He barked more and more, louder and louder.

Smack!

Carlos grinned with immense satisfaction at the grunting, cooing pup he had in his arms. The Latin wolf remembered well how, not too long ago, this wolf was a straight-as-an-arrow straight man. Shy and embarrassed by the sex that wolves gave one another freely. And here he was now, being mounted, begging, grunting desperately in ecstasy. Luna’s light had consumed this pack brother completely. He was full-on wolf. Carlos’ beast swelled in arousal. He was almost home.

Yousef’s eyes bugged out, as his sphincter bloomed to accommodate the cock. His hole stretched to its maximum, Barbie-doll pink, pulsing, clutching at the dick desperately.

Carlos’s large masculine hand at Yousef’s ass let go. Carlos reinserted it at a higher gap in the bars; the brown hand quickly clasped around Yousef’s mouth. Yousef’s unedited of barks of victory were thus muffled as he felt the larger wolf unload in his guts. A second later, Yousef unloaded himself, soiling his thighs, his prison mattress, and the open commode/sink combo with his white bounty. It could not be helped.

Yousef panted deeply, coughing as the hand was removed. The wolf sagged, his brother holding him up through the bars. “Praise Luna,” Yousef whispered through his heavy urgent breaths, his head handing, sweat draining off his beard in urgent drips.

Carlos paused a second and whispered comfort to his pack brother, kissing the nap of Yousef’s searing-hot neck, and then returning to his rhythm, not withdrawing, going for round two.

Yousef gasped, smelling the slick being plunged out of his ass by Carlos’s cock. Were he to let go of the bar above him, Yousef would have plummeted to the floor, he was so spent.

For a second, the only sound in the cell block was the snoozing DUI, buried under his blanket, and the rhythmic squelching of the pairing.

Some deep guttural grunting then emerged. Carlos and Yousef carefully unlaced themselves from the cell bars and from each other. Yousef almost fell to the sloppy floor of his cell in the decoupling. Turning around, they were greeted with a completely animalistic Mullins debasing himself, literally slamming his face against the bars as he swallowed Alpha Pete. Alpha Pete was similarly lost in the hot passion of the fuck. He alternatively massaged and roughed up Mullins’ shoulders through the bars, occasionally withdrawing his cock and savagely batting a whining Mullins’ face without mercy.

“Jesus Christ!” Alpha Pete yelled out. The orgasm that followed overcame everything. The Alpha emptied his mighty tanks into the pup. Mullins swallowed his pint like a champ. His gullet was well-practiced and his will well-inspired. No drop of Alpha cum would be lost on this pup’s watch.

The entire prison block stank of wolf musk, ass sex, and spunk. It was a glorious thing.

But then the door at the end of the cell block opened.

The wolves disengaged and retreated to their mattresses.

Officer Mikulski came in, with the old-fashioned cell keys jangling on the keychain.

“Keep it down in here!” the officer grouched. He took a look at all of them, dishevelled, panting, wet, red-faced.

The officer rolled his eyes. Fucking animals, he grunted. One night in prison and they all go gay. Well, what happens in the big house stays there. He chose to ignore it—one less report to write, especially since no one inside seemed to be complaining.

One by one, he moved from cell to cell, unlocking the doors. “Okay boys, your lawyer’s here. No funny business or I’ll have to cuff you.”

“Hot Dog!” Alpha Pete shouted, sliding his cell door open and striding out.

“Lawyer?” Yousef asked after Officer Mikulski, who was eying him and Carlos as they emerged while donning obviously soiled clothing, their faces sweaty.

“Yeah, your lawyer, fool,” Mikulski said, keeping it together, but obviously disgusted. “Never watch Law and Order? Booking pen’s on the right,” he said, directing his words at Mullins. “They’ll assign you a conference room.”

“I know,” the Chief said cooly, “where it is.”

“Get a move on,” Mikulski urged back, putting his left hand on the nightstick in his belt.

As they moved out, Mikulski hung back and did a well-check on the final detainee, the DUI. Guy was still fast asleep, under the blanket. Nothing amiss. Mikulski noted it on the clipboard on the wall and headed out. The man remained. Unnoticed to all, he had a serious hard-on. The man sighed at the hot dreams he was experiencing, and unconsciously rolled onto his back. His nostrils were flaring. The man’s pecs rose and fell with his breath. And then they expanded, just so slightly, never returning to their original smaller dimension. The mattress below him creaked, accommodating a sudden additional ten pounds of muscle. The yarn of his socks stretched just a bit further, accommodating the change from a Men’s 10 to a size 12. The man continued to doze, breathing in wolf.

The pack moved through the precinct to the front. The booking area smelled of printer ink, of leaking walkie-talkie batteries, and a thousand humans who had come and gone that month.

The wolves looked a sight; Alpha Pete was shirtless, and his ginger body hair plastered to his skin with sweat. Mullins was dishevelled, the front of his prison shirt coated in spit and spunk. Carlo and Yousef were both damp, their body odor obvious to even dull human noses. Wolves naturally feel no shame or self-consciousness about their bodies, but here in the human environment, Mullins and Yousef at least felt a bit of discomfort. All watched their Alpha for signals, but he kept murmuring signals of calm and watchfulness.

Mullins eyed his old office as they passed, now labelled with Barb’s name. The office was occupied, the lights on, but the door was firmly shut.

“Hi Yousef!” The wolves were greeted by their legal counsel as all four started filing out into the booking area.

Alpha Pete, Carlos, and Mullins were in the lead as they filed in. The three had never met the man before, so did not think anything was amiss. “Oh, you friends with Yousef, little guy?” Alpha Pete looked down at the human sitting in one of the precinct’s old fashioned wooden chairs, and back his pack brother taking up the rear.

“Yeah!” Frank, noticeably more muscular than the day before, grinning as he looked up at Yousef. “He’s the best!” With a quick scoot forward, Frank hopped off the chair, with a small yet solid thump of his feet meeting the ground.

Finally coming into view himself, the faithful wolf looked about in confusion. He then looked down. Yousef gasped in horror.

“Welcome to Mountain Peaks,” Nando practiced company greeting to a female patron walking in. She smelled of freshly washed gym clothes, Yorkie hair, and jugo verde. Pilates class was starting in five minutes.

The blond, half-glued into her phone, nodded, ran the bar code on her keychain through the front desk’s scanner, and zipped to the locker room. Two steps away from the desk, she paused, looked up from her phone, and looked back, checking the wolf out.

Nando could smell the female’s hormones surging a bit, the imperceptible raising of her breasts as she arched her back. Bitch liked what she saw, he gave satisfied grin back. The human returned his smile and added a wink, and then headed back on her path to the locker room. Nando turned his attention back to the doors. His new Mountain Peaks polo did fit his chest incredibly well, he preened for a second.

Nando enjoyed the attention. Like all wolves, human females carried no inherent biological interest. Whatever Luna’s plans were, she had not seen fit to grant the gift to the fairer sex. Perhaps she wanted all the boys to herself, the wolves sometimes laughed. Greedy bitch. Human females were useful in producing future mondjugen, so wolves gave them a wide berth, unless a pack was directly threatened. But the attention and admiration in situations like this was appreciated all the same. Who amongst us isn’t at least a little bit vain? the wolf asked himself.

“Everything going good?” Bill came up from the cardio area.

“First day’s jitters,” Nando shrugged. He quickly grew more reserved.

It had been a big lift, opening the gym. Once the cops cleared out (Alpha Pete, Carlos, Yousef, and Mullins in tow), the four remaining pack rushed to clean up before opening time. The office was a mess, but the blinds and some strategically—placed promotional posters on easels took care of that for the immediate moment. The cops had not damaged any of the gym equipment itself, but the snack food and athletic drinks had been raided, so they’d needed to quickly restock. The floor (several high school gyms’ worth of space) required heavy-duty mopping to address the mud and boot prints from the crowd of LEOs that had clomped through.

The show must go on.

Tom and Larry were exhausted and deeply troubled by their stolen Alpha and pack brothers. Bill held it together better. A call to the precinct dispatcher confirmed the wolves’ arraignment time later that morning. It was agreed Larry and Tom would go sleep it off, clean up, and head to the county courthouse. Bill and Nando would hang back, ensuring the gym stayed open and no more funny business from that asshole ax-to-grind FBI agent.

Cleaning supplies away, the exterior lights came on, and the doors were unlocked. Pilates, the first class of the day, began. And then the gym quieted down a bit.

Despite his guardedness, Nando could not help but look fatigued. The two wolves had been going non-stop since Bill arrived at Mountain Peaks in the Wrangler for Alpha Pete’s pack meeting. Nando even further back, with the dance with Luna an entire night before and the associated rutting, the hiding in the bed of Carlos’ truck, and the day of joy riding. Nando had also been railed by all the members of this new pack three times each. Nando was mentally and physically bushed—even a wolf’s endurance can be tested.

And for the first time, an awkward silence.

“So… you… y’all gotta place to stay?” kind Bill started. He was smaller than Nando but exhibited no fear or reverence.

Nando sighed. “No,” he stared forward. “Alpha will provide.”

“I bunk with Alpha Pete,” Bill offered. “There’s some space there, until you get settled.”

“Gracias. I’m used to sleeping rough,” Nando replied, logging out the computer and logging back in, sounding tough. “Whatever Alpha wants.”

“You can call him Alpha Pete,” Bill said.

“I’ll wait for our Alpha to tell me that,” Nando inserted. Another moment of silence. “Lo siento,” the Latino caught himself. “Sorry. Old habits. It was always thin ice with Alpha Toddson. I’d prefer to be formal for now. If that’s okay.”

Bill nodded. “Take your time, brother,” he reached his sleeve-tattooed arm over and patted the other wolf’s muscular shoulder. Bill had been though several packs himself and understood.

Nando stiffened a bit at the contact.

There was a moment of shared discomfort.

“What did they do to you?” Bill asked, concerned. He sized Nando up. The wolf was large, larger than Bill, but then almost all wolves were. He was darker than Carlos, almost coco. But harrier, with a nice black forest tufting out from his polo, and along the stretches of his forearms. Nando had powerful legs and a Latino’s swish in his hips. He’ll be a hit at leather night, Bill thought.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nando signaled he was not interested. He kept his grim expression and looked forward.

Bill looked forward at the desk too. The music track in the pilates class changed over to ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun.’

Mountain Peaks’ sliding doors opened, and one of the other staff, a human named Jane (‘Plain Jane’, Bill dubbed her in secret) with amazing muscle tone arrived for her shift. She took over the front desk, and Bill dragged Nando to the men’s lockers. To business!

“Come on, we gotta clean the showers,” Bill whispered, as he passed off the reigns. Nando followed and helped him roll the mop and bucket out of the supply closet, along with the yellow custodial floor signs. They’d managed to clean up the main gym floor and the ladies’ in advance of closing. The men’s needed way more TLC.

Bill had roped off the showers with the ‘maintenance’ sign, and the pack just had to hope to humans were not particularly smell-sensitive. It reeked of wolf. “We fudged it until now,” Bill shook his head. “But Jerry comes in to lead boot camp at lunch break, and that’s when all the gents show up.”

Nando nodded. He wanted to prove useful to his new Alpha. They headed into the showers.

The place was a wreck. Mullins’ fur was all over the floor, stopping up the drains. The slick of wolf coated everything. Just as they entered, giant glop plopped onto the tiled floor. The hell?!?! Bill thought looking upwards. Yeah, even the ceiling.

Nando gave a small grin, remembering then he’s shot upwards while skewered on Tom’s pole. Nice. Real nice.

“You performed well,” Bill tried again as he rang the mop out. Nando grabbed one of the handheld shower nozzles and began hosing down the walls, soapy sponge in the other hand.

“Gracias,” Nando said, trying to keep on task. He blinked, and felt his head get heavy for a second. The dull scent of wolf wafted around him.

“Took it like a champ,” Bill delved further. He grinned a bit, feeling a bit drunk of the scent of spunk. He really should have turned on the fans. Bill moved to go do so, but then paused. Jane was at the front, there were no men in the gym besides these two… oh, why not…

“Took it like a wolf,” Nando said back, puffing up his chest. He adjusted himself as he sprayed down the far wall, the tile shining more brightly.

“Which one is your fave?” Bill asked, his sleeve tatted arms pulsing with muscle as he moved the wet mop across the floor. When Nando looked over at his new pack brother, Bill gave a jerking off motion with his hand.

“Ah… Alpha,” Nando answered quickly.

“No, I meant which cock you liked the best,” Bill said back playfully. “I won’t tell.”

Nando looked back at him. Was this a trick? Or a trap?

“Alpha,” Nando looked back at the walls, now clean. Keep it simple.

“Mine’s Carlos’,” Bill said, wringing out the mop. He rolled his eyes in wooziness. He was quickly getting rock hard. Both at the thought of Carlos’ knob, and from his pack’s scent. “He’s got amazing moves and knows how to touch every single inch.”

Nando failed utterly to conceal his erection. He was rock-hard. Bill picked up on his now arousal musk as well.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Bill continued, seeing how far he could take this. “Alpha Pete’s a champion. I love that cock. Love it!” Bill clenched his hole at the memory and grinned. “But Carlos… wow.”

Nando nodded. He remembered taking it last night. He closed his eyes and sighed at the scene in his minds’ eye. It has been so nice to be rutted like a whore and yet also feel so safe.

“Tom and Larry’s too—amazing,” Bill pawed at his own junk. He could see Nando grinning now and he hoped the wolf would open up further. It was all going past the point of no return anyways. “Tom’s like a force of nature; you just have to hold on and ride that storm out.”

Nando gasped at the memory. He struggled to remain his stoic self. He turned and looked at Bill, about to say “what the fuck,” but immediately seeing Bill aroused as well.

“Larry… now Larry’s playful,” Bill continued. Yeah, they were totally doing this. “You’re never bored with him. Or dissatisfied. He loves coming in at all angles, until your hole squishes like macaroni, and you’re absolutely cored out and cannot close yourself back up for a few seconds,” Bill and Nando grinned at each other. “And the volume… Pint after pint of SoCo,” Bill took a mock-shot with his hand.

“I remember,” Nando replied. He grabbed his junk through his shorts, in full view of Bill.

“Yousef is a sweetie,” Bill continued. “All gentleman. Wants to ensure you’re having a good ole time. Stares you straight in the eye as you’re folded in half. He’s vers, but he’s really blossoming as a bottom. But don’t let him lie to you—he tops with the best of them.”

“He holds his own as a top,” Nando murmured. He closed his eyes. “I remember.” Nando sniffed in. He could smell each of the pack on him still, inside of him, seeping out of his pores. His pack. He prayed to Luna it would stick.

“Amazing bucks, all of them.”

“What about you, Bill?” Nando met the tatted-up smaller wolf’s boldness with boldness. He pulled his shorts down, releasing his sizeable wolfhood, and gave a few pumps.

“I gave y’all two pints last night,” Bill raised an eyebrow, doffing his Mountain Peaks Polo.

“I recall. Claro, I could use a third helping,” Nando replied, grabbed the hem of his. And then they were soon both naked.

Nando got on all fours, growling lowly as he waved his strong cheeks back at Bill. The wolf expected to be taken immediately. He blinked as the showers around him were turned on, one by one. Nando gasped as a firm hand cupped one of his ass cheeks, caressing it. The wolf leaded into it. If this were a trick or a test, he wanted to ensure Alpha’s spy sent back a good report of what a servile, well-skilled, and slutty bottom they’d picked up.

The rising steam served to enhance the wolf musk. Really, why had they not thought of this before? Bill laughed at himself. He wobbled a bit on his feet. The stench of the room had brought a light-headed sensation, blurring his thoughts. He’d wanted to make Nando feel welcome, to show him a good time. But now, more complicated thoughts were being stripped away. Soon, all that remained was the inviting hole in front of him, and his own eager dick.

The room felt like it was tilting ever so slightly. The space was a giant popper bottle, Bill held a silly grin. Standing on two legs was getting dangerous. Luckily, he had something to anchor himself on. Nando grunted gratuitously as Bill’s grip took a hold and he sunk himself in. The head penetrated with a pop.

Nando grunted for real.

Nando came to learn that Bill thrust fast and direct, a jack rabbit in heat. His grip on Nando’s cheeks was firm, and his scent was resonant and spicy. Their vision mutually swam. Bills feet slipped a bit, and Nando fell to his chest. The jack-rabbiting sped up.

And then Nando got his pint.

The newcomer smiled inadvertently, through gritted teeth. Bill was surprisingly thick. Nando’s guard was still up. It would be for awhile. But he could tell things would be different from now on.

“Hot dog!” Alpha Pete burst out of the courthouse doors and took the steps down two at a time. The courthouse lawn smelled of freshly mowed grass, unsoiled plastic in the freshly emptied garbage cans, and freedom.

“Free for now,” Carlos said, less jubilant. Xochitl was at his side, holding her baby’s hand protectively and drying her eyes. Frank followed, his chest puffed out in pride, his muscles straining against his suit, his shock of silver well-groomed, his height now only just over four feet.

Tom and Larry came next, looking respectable in tucked-in flannel shirts. Both were still concerned, though Larry looked more troubled than his mate. Yousef took up the rear, just plain weirded out.

“Amazing work, counselor!” Alpha Pete went on, patting Frank’s shoulder as the silver fox led them through the side parking lot. Frank’s Jag was right next to the mated wolves’ old Cherokee.

“I know, right?” Frank was practically swaggering. “Mark it in your calendar, boys. It’s not every attorney who can get evidence excluded in an arraignment!”

Two pleadings came before theirs, cut and dried plea deals with the DA. The wolves were then brought in all at once (they’d been afforded new prison duds to avoid the spectacle of obvious semen and sweat stains in front of Lady Justice).

“Ain’t she supposed to be blind, though?” Alpha Pete had asked as they tugged on the barely fitting new clothes. He was being remarkable cheeky about the whole thing.

“Just do as I say,” Frank said, no nonsense, taking it seriously. Behind him, Yousef eyed his training client and friend. Frank’s suit was simultaneously too large and too small. The silver daddy had developed in one day the bolder deltoids of a gymnast, his shoulders and arms straining at every turn against the fabric. The suit coat would not button, his upper body and powerful pecs were so voluminous. But below, the suitcoat grazed past the man’s knees, and his billowy pant bottoms were horribly clumped around his ankles. The only thing keeping his paints up at his willowy waist was the braided leather belt. Frank kept compulsively pushing his sleeves up; left unattended, they’d have flowed past his hands into long floppy flippers. Yousef wanted to say something but was never alone with his friend. Plus, Frank put on no airs of concern for himself. For all you’d know, nothing was amiss at all.

“Not guilty on all charges, your honor,” Frank pled on the record when they were brought up to the dock. The bailiff had to come over to help him reach for the microphone to adjust it lower. “And motion to exclude all evidence of the search of the gymnasium itself.” The courtroom smelled of the body odor of the thirty or so people in the room, of printer ink, and of gun oil. Three guns, actually. The bailiff’s, the officer on duty, and…

Larry looked around, sniffing. There, at the back. The third… oh no…

The blonde FBI agent was there, glowering at the lot of them from his seat the rear. Larry could feel his gaze hit the back of the wolf’s head. What was it with this guy?

“Your Honor, motions are reserved for the pre-trial hear—” the DA started in, but Frank interrupted.

“It would be a tyrannical day, Your Honor, indeed if charges are allowed to proceed. The search warrant clearly says it is for the grounds of Mountain Peaks Gym. Nothing about the interior. No probable cause to enter the gym, much less raid it and trash their offices. The DA is trying to avoid embarrassment for a federal case that wasn’t.”

“Your Hon—” the DA tried to interject.

Frank was not having it. “And isn’t the city already under two court injunctions already for excessive use of force by the police, and three warrantless searches by th—”

“Your honor, sidebar,” the DA said nervously.

One row behind the defendants, Xochitl tried to hold it together. She wasn’t usually emotional, but she was scared for her Carlitos. He held out his hand to her from his spot at the defendants’ table. Wordlessly, they clasped.

“We’re in the public eye, your honor, after the bizarre sweepstakes incident last month,” Frank was quick witted. “And My client is a well-known social influencer, Your Honor,” he indicated at Yousef. “Just this morning, he received three million individual likes, comments, and other engagements on Instagram alone. There will be enormous interest nationally if the unconstitutional charges against him are allowed to proceed. I believe…” he looked at his smartphone, looking oddly large in his hands, “yes, someone is currently streaming this very hearing on Facebook Live.” Frank looked back up at the judge. “The court is not getting a lot of hearts.”

Yousef’s eyes bugged out. “Three million!” he whispered. “What the fuck?” Carlos was equally stunned.

Alpha Pete grinned at his seat. “Take the win,” he murmured to his pack.

“Silence in my courtroom!” the arraignment judge threw down the gavel. “Counselors, approach the bench.”

The DA and Frank came forward, leaving the wolves to all huddle around Larry’s offered Smartphone.

“Three million followers?!?!?” Yousef blurted. He was floored. @Mountain-Peaks-Mayhem indeed was one of the most highly ranked accounts of the day. The twenty or so videos he, Bill, and Frank had filmed were up. Frank had done a wonderful job with the editing, music, and links. But the glory was all Yousef’s. The muscular hunk was shot perfectly, his muscles pumped. The comments… Praise Luna, the comments…

“The State reconsiders the charges, Your Honor,” the DA said, looking ashen as they reapproached their podium. “We’ll drop the ‘operating a health club without a license. The remaining charges relate to the subjects and not the property. Still charging “dereliction of duty” and “absence without official leave” for Messrs Townsend, Ruiz, and Mullins. And “contempt of court” and “failure to pay child support” for Mullins.

“How do you plead?” the judge asked, urgently seeking to suppress the relief on their face.

“Not guilty on all counts, Your Honor,” Frank was completely in his element. The muscle daddy turned, almost tripping over his bunched-up pant legs and his too-big shoes in the process.

Pre-Trial dates were set. And bail. “Set at 1 million,” the judge ruled.

“Your Honor, that’s unconscionable!” Frank rose, his face growing red.

“I’m sure a social media influencer with three million followers can round up the cash to help his friends,” the judge returned, arching an eyebrow.

Frank gave a small grin, admiring the pluck.

The defendants rose. “I got a house, judge,” Alpha Pete offered.

“And a new F150,” Carlos said.

“My pension,” Mullins came third.

“Lien on Mountain Peaks,” Yousef finished the pledge.

Paperwork was signed. And off they went.

The blond FBI agent glowered at them from his seat as they passed. Alpha Pete stuck out his tongue and gave him the finger. The rest were stoic. Larry made an effort specifically not to make eye contact. But the agent’s pheromones surged anyways as he passed. Tom and Larry, and Yousef bringing up the rear, all noticed.

“Bring the next defendant,” the judge called. The bailiff went to fetch the DUI.

“What now, Alpha Pete?” said Carlos out in the parking lot, hugging Xochitl as he sent her off to open the diner late. He and his Lord Alpha clamored into the back seat of Tom and Larry’s Cherokee, the suspension complaining mightily.

“We gotta regroup,” Alpha Pete said. “We waited too long. It’s time to pick up stakes.” The four battle-tested wolves in the car nodded to each other knowingly.

“Frank,” Yousef said tentatively as he and Mullins got into their lawyer’s Jag. “Do you feel okay?”

“Like a million bucks!” Frank beamed, looking adoringly at Yousef. “I hope I made you proud, bro!” Yousef winced as he observed Frank shuddering a bit and, through his smile, the silver fox lost an inch in height as he sat right there in front of Yousef in the driver’s seat. Frank grunted, gripping the steering wheel as one of the shoulder seams of his suit tore open. “A billion bucks, now that you’re free, Yousef,” Frank smiled, totally unconcerned. He pushed his sleeves up to free his hands, and started the ignition, craning to see over the dash.

The two cars left the courthouse lot, towards Mountain Peaks. Autumn leaves were falling everywhere.

“Nicolás Raymundo,” the judge continued, looking at the last name on the docket. “The charge?”

“The defendant is charged with Driving Under the Influence, in violation of penal code Section 127, Addendum D, Your Honor,” the DA stated. “And Operating a Motor Vehicle with a Suspended License, in violation of section 129. Second offense.”

“How do you plead?” the judge asked.

The muscular man, bronzed skin, expressive eyes, on the short side, his clothes looking a size-too-small, was too woozy to answer. The courtroom he’d just been brought into smelled soooo good.

Gents—Greetings and good evening. I had a medical thing completed today, and instead of taking a nap when I got home, I wrote for six hours. Got this chapter completed for you. Loving the feedback I’m receiving, and eager to meet it with more good-quality and engaging story-telling. Thank you for making me feel appreciated. It is truly appreciated by me. Onwards, wolf brethren…

The Cherokee and Jag had hardly been put into ‘Park’ in Mountain Peaks’ back lot before the hollering began.

“Three million followers!?”

All the wolves gathered. Bill and Nando coming out the back to join in. Straight men may have provided pats on the back or risked a hug or a chest bump. Wolves have no such resentence. The pats on the back remained on the back. Hugs proceeded to quick smooches, nips at the neck, hands running along the muscular shoulder and arms as they withdrew. Chest bumps became full jousting matches. And their cocks grew. Steam practically blew from their nostrils.

“Criminal charges?”

“Leaving the territory? We’re heading up north?

The wolves began reflexively pacing in a circle, inner and outer rings. Different paces, different diameters, chaos and order, with Alpha at the center. Hands reaching out to give spanks, strokes, and mock punches at the arms and chest.

“What’s that FBI agent’s fucking deal?” Tom passed by his Lord Alpha’s snout. Alpha Pete snorted back at him.

“Locked up in your own precinct?” Bill lamented at Mullins as their obits aligned. Bill dipped in to lick an ear, and Mullins moaned his greeting.

“Two endorsement deal offers!?!?!?” Yosef panted, Frank toddling along, showing his Smartphone.

“What do you mean you pledged your truck to make bail?” Larry was incredulous. His tongue hung out of his human mouth, a sign of arousal, intellectually and otherwise.

“Had us fucking penned up like sheep!” Carlos snapped back.

It was getting heated. Pheromones were everywhere. “Frank, head inside, will ya?” Yousef directed, noticing all the boners that were beginning to reveal themselves.

“Sure, boss,” Larry chirped and headed inside. Alpha looked at Yousef quizzically.

“I’ll tell you later,” Yousef shrugged it away. And Alpha Pete was easily distracted.

“Fucking in the holding cells? Fuck, that’s hot!” Nando panted.

“Yeah! It sure was!” Alpha Pete winked, also panting.

“Getting randy just thinking about i—” Nando panted, but he was interrupted as his Alpha snatched him and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Nando acquiesced and moaned his enjoyment. Alpha Pete half shoved, half carried his pack member—his! Praise Luna! over to the side of the old Cherokee.

“Amazing,” Tom panted in lust. He pinched Larry’s jean-wrapped rear as their two tracks passed one another. And all of the wolves clumped over to watch at Alpha Pete as he shoved Nando again against the side of the old Cherokee.

The metal panel of the vehicle’s side warped and complained, almost drowning out the Alpha growl and Nando’s panting “yes.”

It was a time of celebration. Wolves are always keen to have a party. And nothing beat watching one’s Alpha in action, rutting in victory.

“Yeah—Yeah!—Yeah!—Awwww—Fuck—Me!” Nando panted in between smothering French kisses from his Alpha. He ran his muscular arms across his Lord Alpha’s back, barely able to get them even a quarter of the way around his massive trunk. The smaller wolf was roused and eager to put on a show, wanting to show all the others how good a pack member he was. The wolf gasped as Alpha Pete started burrowing into his neck, licking and nipping his pack members’ skin, sucking in his scent.

“Fuck yeah,” Bill breathed, watching and sniffing closely, as he pawed his crotch.

A reunion of wolves, after so much activity and adventure and risk, and not a single one felled, not even one whisker bent… well, what else could an adventurous pack do to work out the excitement but breed but in celebration?

The scent of human men washed over them, invading all their nostrils. Alpha Pete didn’t pause. Bill and Mullins gave a growl, looking around.

“Shit!” Yousef gave an urgent whisper. “The bootcamp guys. The class is coming outside!”

Alpha Pete’s thrusting and Frenching paused, and Nando felt himself slowly lowered back to the ground. The smaller wolf moaned his disappointment. And that nipped the pending celebratory orgy right in the bud.

“Hi Bill, Hi Yousef,” the personal trainer Jerry said, a little weirded out to find his boss, his co-worker, and five other men out in the back lot around an old SUV. Ten guys between thirty and sixty and one hardy woman filed out after Jerry with their yoga mats, chains, and blocks, ready for burpees, springs, and all the rest.

“You here to join in on bootcamp!” Jerry went an octave lower, jumping past the awkward moment and into an akimbo position. All ten or so humans whooped and hollered behind him, with the muted but legitimate enthusiasm that only the straight of the breed can muster.

Yousef couldn’t help but smile. Jerry had good rapport. They needed to get him on the @Mountain Peaks Mayhem IG feed next. He’d have made a fine wolf; alas, he was afflicted with the curse of mortalness, and no mondjugen. Yousef had taken the liberty of checking his DOB in the contractor file. It had felt completely natural. Why shouldn’t he check for the mondjugen among them?

What was the concern of a human’s privacy to a wolf?

“Hey Jerr,” Yousef smiled back. “And hey gents!” the wolf turned his attention to the crowd of fit and getting fitter daddies. “I’m working to get these body builders signed up for Mountain Peaks memberships. Let’s show them what you can do! You guys got this! Boot camp’s in session!” the wolf cheered, flexing his amazing arms. All the mortal men gave a celebratory cheer in response and started in on their jumping jacks and burpees. The pack played along, and there were whoops and hollers all around, the giant mountains of muscle flexing and cheering the class on.

Humans, Larry rolled his eyes as he and the rest of his pack slunk to the side drive, Yousef making up the rear. Once around the corner, the pack was sheltered from view. Their faces fell. Their man ears and noses were perked. The men had reminded them: they were under threat, by mortal and beast both.

Nando immediately started trying to climb on his Alpha, licking his ears, but the larger wolf chuffed him off. Alpha Pete barked for silence. “We gotta make plans.”

“Plans to do what, put our hands up again for the humans and get herded into pens like sheep?” Carlos interrupted. All raised their eyebrows.

“It was the only way!” Alpha Pete shot back, barring his teeth. Fangs emerged.

“Oh fuck,” Yousef whispered.

Alpha Pete and Carlos paced around each other, as the rest held their breath. They growled noisily. “Alpha, they’re all still in the back lot,” Bill gave an urgent whisper.

After a few more rounds of insults, dirt kicking, and fang bearing, the pack leader and his second calmed down. The stink of humans grew heavier and heavier as the group in the pack panted and jumped and performed other such nonsense, the human Jerry crowing and shouting amongst them.

Necessity rang its toll.

“I’ve delayed too long,” Alpha Pete said grimly. Carlos panted across from him. “We depart this week,” Alpha Pete raised his voice, looking at his entire pack.

“Send out two scouts,” Carlos nodded, things still tense, but on task. Standard operating procedure. “And the rest follow when the signal is sent.”

“We’ll need a mix of strength and speed,” Mullins added. His military and police training emerging.

“Larry, Bill,” Alpha Pete nodded at each. “At first light tomorrow.”

“What do we know about the North right now?” Larry grasped at Tom’s hand.

“Nunca,” Carlos shook his head. “With Haig and Schreider gone, the other pack members all scattered, as far as I can tell.” The pack shook their heads in dismay. “Social media accts gone dark, no responses to the phone or texts—”

“We had a fucking Alpha council this summer!” Tom protested. Yousef urged him to keep it down. The men would start their sprints around the building soon. Jerry did like his routine. “How could so many wolves have just disappeared?” Tom marveled, in a more hushed tone.

Bill agreed. “There weren’t that many wolves in Haig’s pack, caught up in the national park with Alpha Seth.”

“I don’t know…” Carlos’s tone fell into a whisper. He looked lost, genuinely perplexed. Plus, Hakim had entered his thoughts again. Seeing Larry and Tom hold hands made him lonely, and great stress tended to bring the longing for Hakim have in sharp focus. The memory of the warlock wolf’s scent clouded the pumped Latin stud’s mind.

“So we’re flying blind tomorrow then,” Larry kept his fuming to a minimum. He and Bill eyed each other. Larry began to pace. The wolf paused and kicked the brick wall of Mountain Peaks in frustration.

Yousef winced at seeing his baby get roughed up like that.

Larry turned to Alpha Pete. “For all we know, a new Alpha has risen, and they’ve gone quiet, trying to trap new pack in their territory and grow their numbers.” He and Tom looked at each other in worry.

“For they’re looking for law and order, a new leader who they’ll welcome and follow,” Mullins urged.

“Sure, greeting us with flowers,” Yousef scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Mullins looked at him blankly, not getting the reference.

The new wolf Nando looked about, a bit confused at the open dialogue, the blatant challenges to the Alpha. He wasn’t used to this.

“Or…” Alpha Pete drew out his response, “the strays butchered one another, and it’s a no wolf’s land, ripe for the plucking.” The Alpha looked about the woods on the fringes of the side lot, at the pile of old exercise equipment off to the left, just peaking around the corner, over disturbed gravel. “We cannot stay here.”

“We cannot,” Yousef echoed. Several of the wolves looked at him. This pack brother had the most to lose. But his tone was certain.

Now, wolves may lose their temper, and they may lose themselves in rage or rut, but they are always, always brave.

“First light,” Larry and Bill nodded to one another. They made plans to borrow Alpha Pete’s Jeep, and the initial driving route.

“The rest of you need to settle your affairs,” Alpha Pete turned to the others. “Nando,” he spoke to the newbie, still freshly scented. “You bunk with Tom and Larry tonight.”

Nando nodded. Even as a new addition, he could tell the stakes were grave.

“Yousef,” Alpha Pete turned to his other pack member. “I hate to ask you to leave Mountain Peaks. See what you can do to get an agent to run it. But we depart this week, shifter than the Moon’s sphere.”

Yousef nodded, a mix of emotions.

“What about our court proceedings?” Mullins asked, mystified. “We can’t just skip bail.”

All the other wolves looked to him. Some had mystified faces; others gazed upon this poor deluded wolf in pity.

“Chief,” Alpha Pete said slowly. “We’re going.”

“We’re supposed to stay in the county,” Mullins answered, as though that mattered. “Or else they ca—ahh!”

Mullins found himself under his Lord Alpha, on the asphalt, in a wrestling pin.

“We submitted to that humiliating pen and that pageant you call an arraignment because it was the only way I could be sure we weren’t butchered,” Alpha Pete growled. Mullins groaned. “I shaved you once, to give you humility, to rebirth you. Don’t make me use further disciplinary measures.”

“It’s not me…” the Chief panted from under Alpha Pete’s weight. “It’s… the… county.”

“The day a wolf submits to such silly things as human laws…” Alpha Pete gave Mullins a final shoved, and then withdrew. “Foolish humans, for letting us go.”

The wolves all departed, radiating out lick a spider’s web, as Mullins picked himself back up.

Yousef and Bill headed back into Mountain Peaks. The now very short Frank was at the front desk, his suit now a billowy joke, demonstrating on his Smartphone to Plain Jane, chattering excitedly about Yousef’s followers and account hits.

“-and I’m gonna lock in a high-end creatine endorsement deal by the end of the we-Oh, Hey Yousef!” Frank’s face lit up. His voice was higher now; he’d be a wiz at covering the Chipmunk’s greatest hits at karaoke. “You’re an absolute sensation. You’re at 3.5 million just this morning!”

The little man with big ambition’s face fell when he saw the serious look etched in his awesome friend Yousef’s.

“O Allah, protect him and guard him with your care!” Yousef blurted out a heartfelt and urgent du’a.

He and Bill rushed over to the desk, and Yousef knelt next to his gym buddy. The silver fox was visibly shorter still, the suit now a joke of a garment him. Tight and loose all over. Next to gigantic Yousef, now a pile of powerful muscle, the dude looked very tiny indeed.

Frank met Yousef’s concerned face with a beaming smile. “I was telling Jane here about the social media hits. You’re gonna be rich, bro!”

“This afternoon is our last chance,” the Lebanese wolf was completely focused, peering into Frank’s eyes. He looked at Bill, who shrugged his shoulders. Yousef gave an urgent sigh, and looked back to a mystified, smiling Frank. The man was muscular and small all at the same time. Yousef cussed something in Arabic, then looked up from his kneel, indicating his veiny, well-muscled forearm at Bill. “We’ve got to get you two to Xochitl and fix this.”

“I have yoga class at four,” Plaine Jane offered.

“I’ll get someone to cover,” Yousef blurted, grabbing Frank’s hand, who looked as pleased as punch to be going on a trip. “Inshallah…”

“Praise Luna,” Nando grinned.

Just moments after he crested the last ridge and approached Larry and Tom’s cabin, the wolf knew they would be a couple of horned dogs. The entire clearing stank of Alpha Pete and sex and wolf musk. And some cast iron pots—well used at cooking. So there’d be grub. Praise Luna.

Nando trailed behind the two other wolves as they dashed through the remaining Beeches and a crab apple (what softie planted that?! Nando noted, annoyed at fallen berries getting in between his pads) and got to the building. It had been carefully constructed, the new pack brother could tell. Solid foundation, no sagging or cracks in the masonry, and the logs expertly stacked. Not the mound of logs or outright burrows he was used to from other packs. If Alpha Pete planned to jettison any wolves anytime soon, Nando hoped it would not be Larry and Tom. Their skills were hard to come by. Approaching the steps, Tom quickly moved from four legs to two. Nando paused and admired as the wolf’s haunches swelled outwards and became a plump muscle butt, leveraging it to send his front soaring upwards and outwards. The wolf’s chests exploded outwards into a bloom of lats and pecs and rhomboids, dangling wolf arms swelling and hardening into arched arms. Nando also took a peek at his new wolf brother’s paws becoming sexy hands and sexy sexy feet. Nando got a little thrill out of it, seeking the now tick-daddy pounding up the porch steps barefoot, those endlessly enticing, curvaceous silly-looking-but-not-silly-at-all things. Nando drooled a bit, seeing the toes, tufted with hair, the subtle pads, the heels turning up to the calves.

Que lindo, Nando would have drooled, if in man form. He definitely had a foot thing.

But… Nando realized… only one man?

Tom made it up to the porch first. He gave a quizzical look back at his mate.

Larry stayed on all fours, next to the new wolf. “Gotta perform the watch,” he explained.

Tom blinked. “I think we can skip it for one night,” he tried to laugh, and scanned the horizon, his muscular neck dwarfed by his mountainous traps and powerful shoulders. Nando marveled at the larger wolf’s full, heavy pecs, jutting out from the man’s chest, two mountains of their own, forested with dense curly black foliage, two bare pink craters for nipples.

Maybe the two mates would exchange more words, Nando dreamed, and the Tom would stop his bare feet on the porch in anger. The wolf grew hard at the thought.

Tom urged Larry again to hang back. From the look of the sun, you could still reasonably claim it was breakfast time. “Besides, you’re on the road tomorrow.”

“Never skip a patrol. Alpha’s orders,” Nando shook his head. “Alpha’ll have your hide otherwise.”

“What the fuck do you know about Alpha’s orders?” Nando retorted. “You a mind reader?” Never hurt to beat down a wolf for saying they knew Alpha better than he did. Not yet realizing what kind of pack he’d been shepherded into.

“Be back by dawn,” Larry said, rolling his eyes. He had an idea of what Nando had experienced. And then, the beast was off.

The two wolves, one on two legs, one on four, watched the third dash off to the west. The older grizzled wolf, in his manly form, gave a grin, shaking his head. His heavy unencumbered manhood bobbed a bit as well. God-damned handsome fucker, Tom marveled. Always had to be ‘on.’ It drove him crazy, but he loved Larry for it. As intense as the day he first spied him, at a wolf jamboree in happier times.

But what was another story. The wolf turned to Nando, tense, akimbo in the grass. His tail was still.

“What now, brother wolf,” Nando asked. He did not bother to make it a form for a question, not wanting to lose the opportunity to assert a bit of strength. Tom was bigger than him, after all.

The first few days of a wolf’s admission into a new brotherhood were always tense. Any pack had a thousand unspoken customs, hierarchies that sight and smell alone could not share.

Nando eyed Tom. The larger man was on the porch, folding his arms. He was a hairy fucker, strong too. Looked good naked. The wolf brought one foot up to scratch at the ankle of the other. niiiiccccceeee, Nando nodded. Nando drew in his pack brother’s scent again. Manly, Larry’s scent on him, plus lots of spring water, beef jerky, lots of fish in the diet, and virile musk.

“Change,” Tom directed. Nando nodded, and his manly form asserted itself.

Nando stayed in the grass, and on all fours. He found it helped to avoid falling over. The change in center of gravity, and the mind-fuck that was going from a quadruped to a biped… well, even the most seasoned of wolves could find themselves flat on their ass after a step or two. It was probably one of Luna’s ‘fuck you’s’ to wolfkind, the bitch.

Nando was less reverent than some. One of many differences of opinion he and Alpha Toddson shared.

Nando’s muzzle collapsed in on itself, and his manly mouth took a breath amongst rounded pearly whites. His back legs grew into powerful pistons, the glutes ballooning out into things quite beautiful, and his front legs spread outwards asserted themselves, the emerging fingers getting wet in the nice stinky mud. His human legs spread out to accommodate his rather large wolfhood. The coat shed away into nothingness, though the man left behind was not smooth. The ears went last, triangles folding inward, into the ridiculous vestigial things humans called ears.

Tom looked back at the man in the trampled grass and moss at the foot of the stairs. Obviously capable of controlling the who, what, when where of transformations. Battle hardened, and from a strong, tight Alpha (personal opinions aside, Alpha Toddson was one of the best sons of Luna that Tom had ever known). This was a skilled, experienced wolf now in their midst, Tom noted.

The wolf in question was akimbo, ready to dart away. Kid smelled really good, Tom sniffed. He looked back at the cabin. Shit, there wasn’t that much to pack up…

“Where do I bunk, Brother Wolf?” Nando called up from the grass and mulch. Tom looked back.

“So testy,” Tom arched an eyebrow.

“I’m being tested, claro,” Nando said back, getting up off his hands. He’d let his guard down with tattooed one, Bill, true. Kid was naturally sweeter. A gentle heart, the wolf-phrase went (which the nasty humans had spitefully stolen). So Nando had felt safe. But Tom was bigger, tougher, older. A really pit-bull of a man to his own Sheltie. Assurances of safety only went so far. It wasn’t unheard of for a new pack member to be cast out, or injured, or butchered by another member when Daddy Alpha was gone. To protect their own rank, preserve their own connections, ensure their own secrets stayed kept.

Or even if they were bored. Wolfkind had no word for ‘unfair,’ nor ‘rape,’ nor ‘murder.’ Those were borrowed human phrases.

“You are,” Tom confirmed. The wolf looked Nando up and down. Damn, but he was a looker! Coco skin, with obvious Spanish or other Euro stock. Wonderful raven in his curl, and big beautiful brown eyes. Expressive eyebrows that would allow a handsome face if he ever dropped that damn scared, abrasive attitude. All a top a body that would make the straightest straight straighty dude shout “Hot damn!”

“Hey,” Tom asked, after a space. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like a muscled-up young Sal Mineo?”

“Quien?.. uh, who?” Nando blinked. No wolf he’d ever heard of. Plus they tended to not share last names anyways.

Tom smiled. This kid needed a lot of movie nights to calm him down.

“Rebel Without a Cause.” You’ll see. Never mind that now.” He beckoned the wolf forward. “Come on.”

Nando hesitated.

“Come inside,” Tom bid him. He turned. He heard a sigh and creaks on the porch steps. Never did get around to replacing those, Tom shook his head. Too late now.

The two entered the cabin. The whole affair was one long room, with a few sheets and curtains strung up on several runs of twine to separate the bed, kitchen, and sitting area. The video game consoles still lay strewn about on the uneven coffee table. “Sorry, it’s no palace,” Tom joked, as the naked Nando padded in, sniffing.

Bare, untreated wood, some basic food recipes wafting from the kitchen, and lots and lots of ass sex. Okay, this is good… Nando mused.

“It’s fine,” Nando nodded. He was used to rough living, he assured. Any kind of shelter was welcome.

Tom headed into the bed area to get some clothes. He’d dumped his plaid shirt, jeans, and boots in the Cherokee before departing. And if the car hadn’t been there, wolves just must accept they will lose a lot of their garments in the course of a day. “Got a favorite color?” he shouted over, holding up some of his and Larry’s shirts. Nando was built, but he and Tom’s mate could likely share the same threads.

“You guys really love plaid,” Nando allowed himself a smile.

“Red it is then,” Tom said, tossing the top one.

Nando reached up and caught it. A pair of jeans followed. He rolled his eyes at the ‘Made in Mexico’ label. Colombian was always better! But whatever. Those cares and allegiances were not supposed to matter anymore. Besides, clothes were an annoyance. Wolves naturally go nude; it was the natural state of things. It was Colombian wolves that all should be proud about.

But it was a bit cold out. Nando donned the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he reached for the jeans.

“Wait.” Nando looked up at Tom’s bidding. He’d been in the act of stepping into the pants.

Having the other’s attention, Tom tossed his own selected shirt and pants theatrically to the side. Placing hands on hips, Tom stood there, gloriously nude. Pheromones wafted off the muscular wolf.

“No need to get dressed yet. Not much to pack, actually,” Tom looked about the sparse space. And he gave a wolfish grin, giving an eye at Nando’s amble junk. “And it’d be a damn shame to waste being naked.”

Nando nodded cautiously, feeling he knew the score. An Alpha owns the ass of every pack member and would of course use them to dole out favors. “Yes, Sir,” he nodded, and moved to the bed. Nando crawled onto the mattress, staying on his hands. He maneuvered his body to face away, spread his knees, and bared his hole towards the larger beast. The wolf cuffed, signaling he was ready.

A few seconds went by, and then Nando craned his head back, confused.

“You’re in my spot,” Tom smiled back, still standing a distance away. He subtly flexed his muscles, shoulders, arms, belly, thighs. The cock was rock hard. The smell of ass sex was now overcome by Tom’s fresh musk.

“Oh, uh…” Nando was confused. He indicated at the larger wolf’s throbbing penis. “Did you want to lie down, and I sit on it, chico?”

“I want it on my back, sure,” Tom nodded, his tone lowering, into a sexy whisper. But you’ll be standing.” He moved over to the bed.

“The Fuck? I’ll be stan-?” Nando was interrupted as Tom clambered onto the bed too. Nando struggled to keep his on-all-fours balance as the larger wolf disturbed the mattress.

“Well, it’s gonna be pretty hard to fuck me from another position when I’m laying here,” Tom winked back, and gave Nando’s bare ass a smack. Nando’s large cock and balls bounced between his legs.

Nando gave a surprised wail, and then gasped as Tom’s sexy feet came onto the bed. They had to be size fourteens, at least. And wide. Howling hell… Nando got off the bed, grimacing at the sensitivity of his completely hard wolfhood. Hard as moonrock.

On his feet, Nando watched, confused. He’d fully expected to continue to play bottom boy for the foreseeable future. That’s what any pack expected. But here the larger, older, stronger wolf was, playing an upturned turtle. Tom maneuverer himself over on his back after he’d shoved muscular Nando off the mattress into a standing position.

Their positioned swapped, Tom lifted his head to stare at Nando from the mattress and gave an admiring ogling look at the muscular younger Latin wolf. Nando found himself breathing heavily and chubbing up, his cock understanding the situation even if his mind was still catching up. A naked, flushed, aroused wolf in front of him, primed for a scenting, lifting his lefts presently, exposing a fat, well-rounded, hairy ass, bullseye at the center.

And those feet! Dangling in the air, gigantic, shapely, smelling marvelous, weaving in the air like a combination of butterflies and exotic dancers (Nando did love a god strip club).

The wolf gripped his crotch. Tom lifted his legs back with his hands, in invitation. Nando stumbled forward, sniffing swiftly turning to panting.

“You know,” Tom whispered throatily as Nando approached. “You took our scenting’s like a champ.”

“It’s a privilege to get scented by the Alpha and his pack,” Nando nodded, getting on his knees at the edge of the mattress, feet now braced on the floor. Tom’s hole was in front of him now, almost at the edge as well. The muscular glutes flexed, and the hole pulsed expertly. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nando plopped his hard cock head, as thick as a filet mignon, against the hole.

“Sweet Jesus…” Tom gasped, legitimately surprised. He’d seen the kid’s cock, appreciated it visually. But ‘in the flesh,’ the heat, the weight, the thick… he could tell this was one for the record books. Tom wiggled his rear. Nando panted, thrilled at the feeling of the cock head wallowing at the entrance to Tom’s slick, hot hole. His brown-turned-yellow eyes drifted to the sexy sexy feet on either side of his head.

“It should be,” Tom went back to Nando’s answer, about an Alpha’s due. “But every Alpha is different. Every Alpha is owed it. But some earn it.”

Nando blinked, his tough guy edge broken for a second. “Alphas are owed their due,” he chanted an old maxim. This was a trap. It had to be. Tom sighed, the filet mignon at his front of his furnace below.

Even in his haze of lust, Tom raised an eyebrow. This kid had been through a lot, it was clear. He dropped his head onto the mattress and pulled his legs up further. “Nice sentiment. You have earned this, then. Alpha Pete likes you.”

“Is Alpha okay with this?”

“Yes,” Tom sighed, getting impatient. He needed it, and bad. Therapy time later. He eyed Nando’s, thick and long, in a dark thatch of pubes. Sweet Jesus. His hole started clutching trying to get at the cock.

“And your mate?” Nando let out some air, feeling the expert flesh undulate against his head. “He know?”

“Just what did they do to you in Alpha Toddson’s pack,” Tom marveled in a sexy sigh, not looking up. Any pack he’d ever encountered engaged in frequent sex, joyful sex, share and share alike, shameless as centaurs. Here, this kid acted like he’d been in a monastery.

“Alpha Toddson was… possessive,” Nando said, bringing his head up slightly, not wanting to enter just yet, and then grinding his crotch into Tom’s ass. “He liked to always be in charge.”

Tom sighed in frustration. He wiggled his ass, and bore down, flexing his cunt. Kid smelled like pubes and sex and spit and everything good and pure. He needed this. “Take charge of my cunt,” he barked, and his hold pulsed visibly, the anus expanding, the sphincter giving more and more increasingly pink flesh, then contracting.

Nando gave a wolf-whistle at Tom’s muscle control, and the sheer sexy nastiness of it all. Tom’s flesh was flushed pink, sweating, the ample hair in matted wet curls against the skin. The room was filled further with wolf-stench.

“Praise Luna,” Nando panted, his goldenrod eyes actually crossing. The wolf stumbled a bit on his two feet.

“I’m no stranger to fisting,” Tom winked. He relaxed, throwing his head back. “Come on, pup, don’t play. Fuck!”

“Never tried it, fishing,” Nando whipped his cock against Tom’s ass and hold, batting it, harder and harder.

“Yes,” Tom panted. “Fuck! Do it! Just fucking do it!”

“Do what, chico?” Nando breathed. He withdrew his cock, to Tom’s vocal dismay, and brought his head in close. He blew a heavy sustained breath. Tom’s ass and hole shuddered at the bath of cold air.

“My cunt!” Tom barked again and gave his hips on the bed a saucy wag. His hole pulsed again. He wanted this bad boy so bad.

Finally, blessedly, the wolf gave a good grunt as Nando dove in to feast on his hole. The older wolf cooed and banged his head against the mattress as he was eaten out.

Tom tasted amazing. Nando plowed his weak human muzzle into the muscular, plump flesh, rubbing his stubble against the sensitive flesh. Getting the scent all over his face.

Nando went at it for five uninterrupted minutes.

“Fuck, your tongue is the devil,” Tom panted from up top.

“Gracias,” Nando gave a brief laugh at the compliment, his lips swollen from the activity, his entire lower face wet in victory. The sex had really eased his nerves.

“Now I want that thick chorizo,” Tom eyed Nando’s maleness. He reached out and gasped a hold of the cock, stroking it a few times with a practiced hand. He spread his fingers out and combed them through Nando’s black thatch. The wolf brought his hand back to his nose and sniffed in deeply. A silly satisfied grim crossed Tom’s face as he started smearing his hand across his own face, savoring the slick. “Don’t hold back,” he requested, lewdly licking his fingers in front of Nando.

And then there was nothing to do but rut. Nando climbed atop Tom in a missionary position and started humping his pack brother. Nando gasped as Tom pulled him in for a kiss. At first, the smaller wolf didn’t kiss back, he was so stunned.

“You okay, pup?” Tom pulled back a bit, breathing deeply, expressing fatherly concern.

“Yeah,” Nando answered. “It’s—it’s a lot at first.”

“The kissing?”

“Ha pasado un tiempo desde—” Nando gave a small laugh. “Sorry… It has just been a long time since I was allowed to take the lead.”

Tom was incredulous. “Just what kind of fucked up operation is Alpha Toddson running over there?” He almost pulled Nando into a big naked hug.

“One I wanted to bounce,” Nando said, averting his eyes. He looked down at Tom’s hairy muscular chest, his muscular thighs, his tight trunk, folded in half. Nando dipped down and started licking at the valley between the larger wolf’s pumped pecs.

Amidst the slurping sounds, Tom reached around, moving Nando’s hand to his cock, and together, they guided Nando to the opening. Tom gave a sigh as it popped in audibly. Nando had a front row seat to Tom’s face changing expressions as the smaller wolf sledded in his entire length: yellow eyes burning bright as they widened, blinking, mouthing gasping open like a fish, neck and jaw pulsing, entire body flexing, pulsing, writhing. Nando was thick.

Nando moved his pelvis side to side, up and down, thrilling from the feel of Tom’s hot furnace clutching around him.

“God damn!” Tom looked up at the younger wolf in astonishment. He’d been ready for a good time but had not expected the pup to be this good. He gasped again, and his jaw jerked reflexively. “Where’d you learn to—ungh!” Tom arched his back, thrashing his head to the left.

“Out of practice. But I’ve been around,” Nando smiled, his eyelids half closed, his hair now tossled and wet. He thrust again. Big was an understatement.

“Fuck!” Tom’s right shoulder jerked. His head jerked again. The wolf’s head was writhing without direction or purpose, just riding the sensation. Tom gasped again. None of this was performative—the kid really was pushing every single one of his buttons. His anal shaft wrapped around Nando’s pole. The younger wolf moaned himself at the hot wet tightness that swaddled his cock.

“Fuck me!” Tom panted. “Fuck me!! Scent me!”

“I will,” Nando breathed, and then grabbed one of Tom’s feet, pulling the leg into a more bent position. He licked the entire bottom of the foot and began moaning into the meeting point of the stallion wolf’s man-foot pads. He gave more thrusts, timed with his own moans. The toes would be next. Nando’s cock physically grew and flexed at the thought. Tom gave a holler down below. “Sweet Jesus!”

“Fuck yes,” Nando panted, giving an extra thrust. Just in case this was a trap, or a test. Which he hoped it wasn’t. Feet tasted waaaayyyy too good.

The two went to town. Packing up could wait.

“¡Ay, Virgen Santísima!” Xochitl swore, pulling from Frank’s eyes. The silver fox blinked back, smiling. He’d been in a giddy state since entering the diner. Frank’s eyes started to sneak their gaze over at Yousef, but the wolf urged him to keep still. The silver fox nodded in urged obedience and looked forward. He grinned, eager to please.

A few more seconds of examination followed. The diner owner sighed and pulled away.

“Bet I did good, huh?” Frank asked from his booster seat and his tangle of clothing, his voice now ready to win first prize at a ‘Chipmunks’ karaoke night. Bill and Yousef grimaced and looked on at Xochitl expectantly.

“Just what the fuck did you say exactly?” Xochitl asked. “When you cast the spell?”

“I didn’t cast anything,” Bill protested.

“Right, the dog ate your homework,” Xochitl gave him a look. She pointed at faint Frank. “You cast… this!” she gestured down. “No way this was just a familiar spell. Now… What. Did. You. Say?” the Latina’s words slowed for emphasis.

“Dunno,” Bill looked ashamed. “Something about loyalty.”

Xochitl rolled her eyes.

“And the ring light flashed,” Yousef added, almost beside himself. Of the two, he was the more upset.

“Why so glum, chum?” Frank interjected merrily, noticing Yousef looked sad. He was more Simon than Alvin in his voice’s timber, and he was all silver fox still, no rodent. Frank’s own mood quickly sank. “Why are you sad, bro?”

Xochitl shook her head. “Chicos,” she sighed, “this is all a huevo you cannot un-scramble.”

“No!” Yousef protested. He gave a quick glance at Frank and brought it down to a whisper. “That cannot be! Just look at him!”

Frank was seated in one of the diners’ plastic brown booster seats, in the booth they all shared. The silver fox was fit, pumped, with a gymnast’s build a twenty-year-old would kill for. Save that he was three feet tall.

“Yeah, I totally look good,” Frank seemed in his own little world. He flexed his arms, oblivious that they were now draped in his comparatively gigantic suit’s sleeves. “Yousef trains me! I’m getting so buff! Need to keep him proud of me, sister! His rates are about to go up through the roof!”

Bill eyes grew tired as Xochitl explained; a spell poorly cast had no structure, no rhythm, no method to write up a counterspell. It was like a drop of food dye cast in water: there was just no separating it. Only the most powerful of wizards and witches could make sense of it, and… well, Xochitl just wasn’t of that coterie.

“When does it stop? The shrinking?” Bill asked. He looked down at Frank in fascination as the man puzzled how to eat his apple slide now as big to him as a car tire.

Xochitl would have said ‘too bad, so sad,” to Bill, but her heart melted at Yousef’s desired look. “We can stop it in its tracks, step on the brakes, suficiente!” Xochitl snapped her finger. “But his size… there’ll be a period of adjustment, claro.”

“What about the wizards, the top ones?” Yousef urged. “How do we get them to fix this?”

“You think your rates are gonna be high?” Xochitl couldn’t help but laugh. But she felt bad about it. “Chico, the human coin that those warlocks would accept has not yet been minted. I just… we’ll have to help Frank the best we can, mi hijo.” Xochitl gave a small hug to the heaving muscular man as he covered his tears.

“Relax, Yus,” Bill gave him the side eye. “Frank’s a treasure, but he’s only a human.”

Yousef looked back at his friend.

“What?” Bill asked, looking to see if there was something on his shirt or something.”

“No matter how expensive, we need to talk to them,” Yousef looked back at Xochitl.

“As if they’d even take my call. As if I even had their number! As if they even have numbers. Sure, let’s just have them over for Taco Tuesday,” Xochitl sighed.

“Can we?”

“Yousef, mi hijo…?” Xochitl looked at his sadly. “It’s about as likely as you two getting an audience with the wolf king.”

Bill gasped. It was verboten to even say name in public.

Yousef looked even more incredulously upset. “There’s a wolf king?”

“Shhhhh!” Bill urged him to be quiet. “Not here,” he whispered, looking nervously around the diner. No one seemed to have noticed.

Yousef sighed. He couldn’t deal with that. Fucking Alpha… everything had to be a secret. “Just…” Yousef was at a loss. “Just fix h—oh my God where’d he go?!” the wolf panicked. Frank’s booster was vacant.

Bill nodded at the ladies’ and gents.’

Yousef felt a fatherly moment instinctively and rushed over to the doors.

“I didn’t realize I had this much power,” Bill said as Yousef darted away. “What does loyalty have to do with size anyways?”

“A familiar usually takes the form of a cat or a rat,” Xochitl shrugged, getting up to return to her managers’ shift at the counter. “Maybe the magic can only conceive of one on that scale. This loyalty you urged had to be come from someplace. Three feet of height in exchange for a loyal heart. No sí. Hard bargain… Plus those weird ring lights. Who even knows that the fuck that did? Blessed be, no sí,” she muttered as she walked away along the counter stools.

“Yousef?” Frank called. He was at the mirror in the men’s as his giant, muscular, talented, handsome, wonderful friend entered. Or rather, Frank was below the mirror. His head did not even reach the top of the sink’s white porcelain.

“Frank?” Yousef stepped forward. At that time, Frank’s suit gave out. Even with his amazing musculature, the scale just hadn’t kept pace. With a small shrug of his shoulders, Frank’s shirt collar fell off around him like a now almost as wide as a hoola-hoop to him, his bare (incredibly built) torso emerging. The right and left sides of his suit jacket calved off like slow-moving glaciers. Frank was left standing, naked in the puddle of clothing around his feet. It piled up to his knees, leaving him revealed as a little fireplug of a gymnast, powerful, strong, agile, naked, and small-small-small.

“I… Yousef… bro, when did you get so big?” Frank said, for the first time expressing confusion. He held his powerful little arms out to be picked up.

The two wolves, Alpha and his second, dashed through thick groves of primeval ash and elm. The last of the seasons’ leaves were dancing in the air. There was a thick scent of rot, moist earth, not yet frozen, and of fall berries. A tardy prow of geese flew through the clouds above the clattering canopy. The wolves’ sensitive ears could hear their wings whistling as each flapped in the wake of air pocket left steaming by their flock mate ahead. Wolves really ought to learn that trick, the Alpha mused.

The first frost would come soon.

“I’ll miss this land,” Carlos shared, as the two crested the next hill and beheld more forest before them. “Cut my teeth here, know every tree.”

“Glad I could help remind you of our favorite dell back there,” Alpha Pete chided him and brush his pack member’s flank with his own shoulder.

Carlos gave a brief laugh in return. It had been a good hot rut.

After their fight before, Alpha Pete needed to nip the anger in the bud. The two had gone on a patrol of their territory. It was implicit they would mate along the way. Wolves are not like men, with the need to endlessly chatter, to reason out every dispute like a legal dispute or moral quandary. So so much could be simply resolved by a good rut, Praise Luna. One of wolfhood’s greatest blessings, freedom from all that nonsense. ‘Might makes right,’ or rather, ‘Rut Means Shut!’

Two miles into the wild on all fours, and both were panting. Carlos slowed as they approached a stand of trees, and his Lord Alpha started circling.

“Still angry with me, eh?” the Alpha lunged at his pack brother, nipping at his haunches.

“We worked that out,” Carlos growled back.

“Just making sure…” Alpha Pete darted forward a bit in his prowl. Carlos yipped in surprise and cursed himself. He prided himself on his instincts, his ability to anticipate.

“Did we?”

Angry burbled up in Carlos’s throat.

“Only cause you gave us up to the humans!” Carlos growled back. “No fight, no nothing!”

“Thought so!!” the Alpha reared up on his back two legs for a second, then lunged forward. This pup needed another good rutting to make it all stick!!

His front paws shoved at his brethren. The Alpha’s large size ensured the Carlos went down, but it was not a painful blow. This was a mock-fight, even though neither would admit it. The hard maleness both wolves were exhibiting gave all the reassure needed.

“We’re wolf! And you allowed us to be leashed like pets!” Carlos growled from his side. His Alpha stalked forward, ears down.

“Hot head,” the Alpha growled. He nudged at Carlos’s legs, urging them open.

“Proud!” Carlos said back. He tried to get on all fours again. He whined as his Lord Alpha batted him down.

“Alive,” Alpha Pete panted, and then they both whined, Carlos arching his neck, as he was entered. Alpha Pete thrashed his tail muscularly, rapidly. He made some whistling air of his own.

Carlos grunted below him. He spread his legs wider to welcome more of his Lord Alpha inside. The wolf arched his back, stretching out and up. Alpha Pete gnawed at his neck, and then ran his long snout over and about the slightly smaller wolf’s ears. Each smelt the other. And the scent mingled once more.

“Uhhhh!” Carlos groaned out in sensation. He felt his guts receive a searing hot load. The wolf barked out his own orgasm without shame, grunting gutturally, ensuring every bird and beast near them would note that his wolf-cunt was being very well-used indeed.

Alpha Pete proceeded to seed his brethren, three more times. If there was something he could not afford, it was an angry Second.

During the third session, Carlos did not even grow hard. He was too distracted, ensuring he could serve his Lord Alpha, and contorting his hindquarters to make triply sure every single spot of his hole was visited. By that stage, his Alpha’s sperm and scent had bewitched him entirely. He wanted—no, he needed to be cored out.

Now, running through the woods once more, quick as quick, the tandem wolves were of one scent. Plenty of Alpha in the Second, and Carlos’ spit and dander adorning the leader’s fur. A well-fucked pack is a united pack. And Alpha Pete kept them all united.

“Will truly miss this place,” Carlos looked around.

“Could visit,” Alpha Pete said, urging him onwards. Running worked to work off the edge the rut had brought. “If Toddson allows.”

“You just stole away his Second,” Carlos noted, shaking his head. “I don’t think he’ll be eager to offer an all-access day pass.”

“Nando was his second!” Alpha Pete looked over, surprised.

“Yeah,” Carlos nodded, giving his Alpha the eye. And a small side smile of victory.

Alpha Pete looked forward and picked up his pace. The wolves began dashing again.

“Besides,” Carlos panted as they rounded a bog and leaped over a felled trunk. “I think I need to stay away. There’s…” his voice trailed off. They were now within sight of the nature reserve, the former national park, the new edge of their territory. The boundary loomed large, a wall of scentless nothing. “There’s some bad memories,” Carlos finished, sounding infinitely sad for a second.

“Not bad,” Alpha Pete came to his pack member, and nuzzled neck. “Sad.”

“Hurts the same,” Carlos did not move away. They rubbed their muzzle alongside for a few seconds, and then the Alpha began licking Carlos’ snout and chops. “I don’t have anything of his scent left.”

Alpha Pete had no answer to that sorrow.

“We’ll have new adventures in the north,” Alpha Pete offered after a space. They started moving again.

“It’s very unsettling,” Carlos got refocused. “No wolves responding at all? Not even to an Alpha?”

“Nada,” Alpha Pete moved from a trot to a gallop. Everything always seemed better when on the run.

“Texting, emailing, phone calls, everything?”

“Not even the private Facebook group,” Alpha Pete panted. They’d all gone dark.

“So it’s either vacant, or a trap,” Carlos fretted.

“Who needs a little courage now,” Alpha Pete taunted back. They were at full speed, as fast as the West Wind.

Carlos was silent. There was so much to process, and so much to forget.

“Larry and Bill will bring back information,” Alpha Pete assured. The scouts would head off first thing.

“All the same, I wish we’d get a poke or two from that Facebook group first,” Carlos grouched, also panting.

“Oh, I’ll give you a poke!” Alpha Pete spun around suddenly. Carlos squawked as he rammed into his Alpha. The larger wolf gave a grunt but acted quickly to hold his Second down. And they fell into rut number five.

The wood owls above them, randy little fuckers, woke from their daytime roost to watch the glowing yellow eyes bouncing and bobbing below them. They enjoyed the scene below them and all began to hoot. Alpha Pete loved to put on a show.

Daniel’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He’d had a lot of orgasms lately, each and every one of them eye-rolling. Number seventeen for that day, coming in for a landing! Lucky him!

Blondie, his nickname for the lawman below him, cussed out some nonsense. Daniel was on top, riding the man’s cock like a merry-go-round pole. The busboy was on a crab position, dipping his hole up, down, all around, ensuring that amazing long cock he’d ensnared stroked and scrapped at the walls of his chute like a baking spatula.

Fuck Yes! Daniel gulped as it stirred his guts just right. Blondie below him ruthless stabbed at his hole, again and again.

If Daniel had thought about it, he’d probably have marveled and become concerned that he’d tripled his body count in less than a month’s time. And that his hole, his hormones, his urge to plough and get ploughed was now inexplicably insatiable and inexhaustible. His tole was drum tight, clean, ready. His cock was harder than a diamond and the cum inexhaustible. His mouth was always hungry. Ever since the latest Leather Night, it has been like a kitchen light had been turned on, illuminating his love-making skills, plus he now found he could totally rev up the engines of any man he encountered, leaving every partner, every single one, a sighing, whelping sack of meat.

But Daniel didn’t think much about anything anymore. It was much more fun to fuck. More necessary, truly. If one were to ask the busboy if he wanted to do something besides breed on a given evening, it would elicit solely a confused look. Might as well ask if one would rather not breathe. How could you not… How could you not fuck?

Blondie’s phone beeped, off to the left. Daneil screwed his mouth into a frown, and started thrusting his ass down, mashing it into the hot hot cock. He’d be damned if a stupid work email interrupted his fuck. The lawman allowed him a few more seconds of fun, but then pushed him away during a pull-away moment.

“Come on, get offa me. I gotta check this,” the blonde agent, tall, lithe, strong, said. He rolled to his ride and grabbed the Smartphone from the motel nightstand.

Daniel gave a theatrical moan and pout. Even now, just a few seconds bereft of cock, the busboy’s hole was cramping, empty and getting emptier every moment. Daneil gave a small moan of need.

“Crybaby,” the agent mock-laughed at Daniel. “Gimme a break. I gotta check—” But Daniel’s attention drifted.

When a human, wolf, orc, or warlock alike, holds their breath, nothing happens at first. But soon, the yearning for air emerges, taking over the entire thoughts of the being. And soon there is nothing else but that yearning. So too was it with Daniel. Fucking was now as essential as breathing.

Bill’s finger snap spell has not been unkind. The busboy’s hole and mouth were evergreen in their delivery of pleasure, and Daniel shone with an undiscernible glow that ensuring willing partners abounded. Every gay and bi man in the county, it seemed, was finding their way to the diner. And with Daniel, they lasted. Lasted and lasted. Load after bountiful load. Daniel no longer batted an eye at a partner arriving at his 10th petite mort multiple times in an hour, a half-hour, a cigarette break… It was a beautiful thing.

The agent kept coming back. He loved Daniel’s body, Daniel’s ability to make him cum without all the guilt, and Daniel’s discretion.

And, well… Daniel didn’t mind blondie. The agent was a good, firm lay. The busboy could tell he was distracted, deeply dedicated to his work. Daniel thrilled in distracting the man, making the agent upset at the end of their sessions at just how long they went at it, ensuring he missed his stupid teleconferences and time-sensitive taskings.

Alas, not this time. The agent sat up, wiping his hand on the bed sheets before swiping down on his phone. The man’s eyes were intent.

Daniel lay on his left side on the mattress, as if on a fainting couch. Hole was really pulsing now, gasping at the hotel room’s fetid air for a nice firm cock. Daniel extended his left elbow and rested his head on his left hand. He bent his right knee up, pulling the leg skyward. Daniel was no wolf, but he had a nice body, and his spell ensured he was eager—eager—eager to show it off. Reaching his right arm around the bottom of his upturned thigh, Daniel started playing with the exposed, leaking, pulsing hole.

The agent snuck a peak at his fuck and smiled. “Nice,” he nodded, but then went back to his email. “Yes…” he mouthed, at the screen.

“What ya get?” Daniel asked. He did not care, but hoped the lawman would soon look back at him fingering his hole. He went from two to three fingers, grunting for effect when he went knuckle-deep.

“Got you…” the agent murmured, not looking away from his Smartphone.

“Got what?” Daniel asked, trying to sound extra breathy. God, he shouldn’t have to beg like this.

“Got yoooouuuuuu…” the agent smiled again, falling to a whisper. “Take a look,” he impulsively showed the screen at the fuck.

Daniel peered in, expecting porn.

To his disappointment, the Smartphone carried an email from some rando with a .gov email, to the agent, with an attachment. The agent clicked the paperclip icon, and an image was downloaded.

It was a missing person’s notice, with a picture of some dude and his deets.

“So?” Daniel asked. Four fingers now, and he grunted like a pig this time as his hole sucked them in. Fuck yes! Jesus Christo!, he thought, giving a moan. “Can’t we just fuck?”

“Read it!” the agent said firmly. The phone in his hand shook slightly.

Missing person Laurence Samuels 42 Years Old, 5’11”, White, Brown Thinning Hair Athletic Build, Former Collegiate Swimmer Last Seen in Deerpark, North of ______ National Park Beloved Son. Reward for Return. Missing Since 11 January 20__

The picture showed a middle-aged, athletic man, dressed in a normal polo, wearing normal glasses, smiling a slightly playful grin, as much as one could get away with in a professional office shot.

“Looks familiar,” Daniel mused, not really thinking about it deeply. “Bet he’s a good lay. Maybe better than YOU.” His moaning crescendo as he fingered the rim of his already-stuffed hole with his thumb.

The lawman looked up, incensed. That got his attention. Daniel couldn’t help but feel a thrill.

“Got a filthy mouth on you,” the agent snarled. He tossed the phone on the bedside table, and pounced on the busboy, who grunted joyfully. He needed his pussy stretched good and wide.

The phone tumbled onto the bedside table. The picture of Laurence Samuels looked up, grinning at the ceiling until the screen went dark thirty seconds later. If not for his lovemaking, the agent’s eyes would have been more alert, and if the young Latino busboy wasn’t so bewitched by his own body, each might have spied the yellow eyes surveilling their rut from the gap in the curtains of the motel window.

Alpha Pete had just plopped down into his bed in his dormer bedroom, contented for a night of sleep, when a shout came up the stairs.

“Hey Pete!” Bill yelled from down below. “Y’all got a visitor.”

“Tell ’em to fuck off,” Alpha Pete shouted back. It had been a long day of packing, of calling bill collectors and utilities and all the fucking human stuff. Fuck all, he looked at his bedside clock, a small plastic thing with Tweetie Bird on the clock face. Alpha Pete enjoyed the weirdness of it. It was almost 10 p.m.!

Then he sat up… Pete?

“She knows yer here, Pete!” Bill shouted again.

Pete? She?

Alpha Pete swung his legs off the bed and ran to the dresser. The wolf threw on some athletic shorts and a t-shirt, the largest sizes commercially available. Fuck…

“Good evening, Mr. Townsend,” said the Chief of Police, in full uniform, on his front porch. Alpha Pete tried but failed to remain stoic. He shooed the anxious Bill back into the house and closed the door behind him, stepping out on to the front porch. Two additional Crown Vics were in the drive of his bungalow.

Barb looked the barefoot man up and down. “I think you’ll agree we need to take a little walk,” she gave an even smile. Her radio beeped and booped. “Stand by,” the proud bull dyke expertly drew her radio out. “All Units, this is One Fiver Six One. At Peter Townsend’s residence. Proceed with well-checks at five-minute intervals and keep the two units standing by.” She replaced the radio into the strap on her uniform’s epaulet. “Body cam too. Not overkill, I hope?” the short woman said. She looked into the giant man’s eyes without fear.

The bull dyke and the giant Alpha headed down the driveway together, talking.

(More to come)

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