FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was Sunday night, and Riley was on the prowl. More or less.

His prowl was a bit different from some others, though. For many teenagers, it would be cruising the town, searching for a good time, hitting some clubs, trying to do whatever they found fun. For him, it was romping around the woods, chasing anything that smelled good or tried to run from him, not trying to catch any of it but just enjoying the night.

Such was the way things were for a werewolf.

Werecreatures had it rough. Magical creatures with a human base, they could present either as a typical human or as an amalgam of a human and animal. These 'bestial forms' retained intelligence but had powerful natural instincts that were difficult to rein in, which tended to lead to more primitive behaviors. Out of all the magical creatures around, they were generally one of the lowest-regarded. Part of it was their nature as essentially altered humans rather than full magical beings, which made them misfits among both communities. They were too human to be trusted by magical creatures and too non-human to be accepted by many humans, caught in the middle of the uneasy détente between the two classes.

Since their origins were in humans, most of them were familiar with and in tune with human society, but the urge to take their other form was impossible to deny forever - a were would eventually get forced to shift, and if they resisted for too long it would deny them their human shape for a while. The opposite didn't seem to be true - a were could stay in their bestial form endlessly if they wished; this was thought to be because of the powerful natural instincts of the bestial side, which sent triggers to emerge, while the human side had no such impulses.

It presented a dilemma for those who were werecreatures as to how to live their lives. Some conceded to the effect and lived more or less full time in their bestial forms; in most cases this meant having to join the 'therian communities' which were basically enclaves of werecreatures relatively segregated from human society. These were rarely desirable, often low-class and semi-lawless, since the natural instincts of the bestial side tended to get aggressive and impulsive, but there were plenty who preferred it to the scorning eye of humans, who were typically not welcoming of weres who shunned the human shape. Others tried to remain human as much as possible or use suspect means to stave off the were form, which frequently ended poorly unless they had the freedom to disappear for days to sate their need to shift. For many, the only alternative that seemed viable was to try to balance it out - live part and part, sate the urge and still be part of a fairly regular society.

Riley was a bit too young to have the decision left in his hands yet, and was currently taking the latter course at the behest of his mother. He'd go to school, hang out with friends, live more or less as a normal human out in public...at home, though, he'd spend more of his time in his bestial form, relieving himself of that slowly building pressure. It was the only life he'd known, so he couldn't really say he minded it, even though it could lend itself to inconvenience at times. Most of the people he went to school with knew he was a werewolf, and while he got some flack for it, they mostly stayed away from him - maybe worried that he'd suddenly shift and attack, or believing the myth of 'transferring the curse' or some such nonsense. Or maybe it was the fact that Riley was BIG - even as a human he stood six and a half feet tall and weighed a good 220 pounds, and that was largely muscle. His wolf form put on a good foot and another 60 pounds, making him one of the larger werewolves out there, and he was still growing.

It hadn't been expected for him to be a werewolf - quite the contrary, his father had tried to make sure it didn't happen, being one of the kinds that was particularly hostile towards them. The 'therian hex' that could be cast to create a werecreature out of a human was carried in the blood of weres, ensuring that any offspring would also be weres; the hex couldn't be reliably detected in blood samples, and it was widely known that a fair few donations were tainted. A special vaccine had been invented to prevent transmission through transfusion, and Riley's mother had been pushed into getting it by his father; when she had needed the transfusion, he had expressed total confidence that they were protected and could get any blood without risk. Neither of them had known that the fetus did not inherit any protection unless the vaccine was administered during pregnancy...the signs of Riley's alterations had become evident within a couple of weeks of his birth.

That had made for a quick end to the happy family. To hear his mother tell it, his father had demanded they kill him and start over; when she categorically rejected that and told him he could have both of them or neither of them, he'd chosen the latter option. Riley had never met him and never cared to - anyone who hated him just for what he was wasn't worth his time. His mother had always been supportive of him, even if he wasn't what she expected, and had taught him to respect himself and be proud of who he was, and he had never been ashamed of being a werewolf.

A settlement with the hospital had given the two of them enough money to live comfortably for a while, and they had moved to a new area, putting some distance between them and Riley's father. Their new home was in a smaller town, and they lived a short ways outside of it, in a house which was bounded on all sides by forest. There were few houses in the nearby area, theirs was the only one for probably half a mile, and the forest extended for a long ways behind them before they ran into the next road. Which meant a perfect area for Riley to romp around, work off some of that werewolf steam and ready himself for humanity once more.

Not that he knew what he was doing, really. His exposure to other weres was so scant that he didn't have anyone to spend time with in this form, and he really didn't know what to do with himself as a wolf other than romp around and let his instincts guide him. And his instincts didn't seem to care too much about anything in particular. He tracked scents, climbed trees, chased wild game (never caught it), howled, and basically did what he felt like were wolf things. He was about as untamed in his wild side as it got.

Tonight, though, was different. Because tonight, he smelled another werewolf.

Consciously, he didn't know it was another werewolf. But that scent against the tree triggered something primal in the animal side of his brain - it KNEW there was something werewolfy about that scent. It raised a foreign excitement in him, something he'd never felt before - the primal desire to compete, to contest, to prove himself the superior one. He sniffed the air, trying to trace that scent, and found it relatively fresh...forward he went, rational mind overwhelmed by feral inclination, his focus narrowed to that single point.

He WAS the Alpha. And he WOULD prove it.

---

Vernon couldn't believe his luck. Houses like this didn't come on the market every day. Rural area close enough to the city to get a good job, spacious forest surrounding him and keeping him out of the way of neighbors, and a nice clean community that was way better than the relative slum he'd been living in for a while. He couldn't have asked for anything more.

Pretty much anything would have been an upgrade from the slum he was stuck in for the last five years. Being a werewolf didn't endear you to too many people, especially when you were one who was proud of it. He'd lived with other weres in their own section of the city, rent was cheap but the conditions sucked. The actual work of his job was decent, but his bosses didn't like him and he was stressed out all the time. What he'd wanted above anything else was an area where he could run free, be more relaxed, and just enjoy his life. It would have been nice to be around kindred spirits, but he'd rather be around fewer weres and like them more than be around tons of ones that annoyed the crap out of him.

It was late at night, and he was in his wolf form exploring the woods that were now his home. It was a brand new place for him, full of tons of scents he'd never smelled before, and he felt a giddy thrill every time he came across a new one. There was a lot of urge to pounce around and roll in them, but he held them mostly in check - he'd been a were long enough to know how to control himself, plus he spent more time in were form than most others, save for the 'perma-weres' back in the therian community in his former city home, the ones who refused to take human form and were quite vocal about their pride as weres. Vern wasn't nearly so extreme, but he felt a lot more comfortable as a wolf than a human.

He didn't really have a direction so much, was just sort of wandering around to try to familiarize himself with the new area. Every scent brought him in a new direction to learn what it was, and give himself a few landmarks for his later explorations. The better he knew his territory, the easier it would be to enjoy himself on those late nights. What to chase, what to avoid, what to look for that might be especially interesting to explore later on...he was fortunate that werewolves had great scent memory, and he could easily pick up on it again later. It would take a while to really fully explore the area, but he had lots of time, and was in no rush.

And, of course, he had to lay down some of his OWN scent markers. After all, he had to let other weres know where his territory was, should they come across him. That didn't seem incredibly likely - for all intents and purposes, he was in a fairly remote spot, it would be unusual for a were to come out this far unless they lived around here, and he would probably already have smelled some markers if they did. But he'd only caught a couple of whiffs of anything like that, and they were old and stale, probably from someone who used to live around here but didn't anymore. A shame, he would have liked to meet him, it would be pretty nice to have someone to run with out here, but he'd make do...

At least, that was what Vern thought. And he was disabused of that notion in the most emphatic way possible - by a blindside tackle just as he was registering the sound of footsteps coming his way. The momentum of his attacker carried past him, so as they hit the ground they went careening onwards, giving him a few moments to collect himself and get a bead on them before he was charged again. The attacker was another werewolf, male and in the prime of his life by the scent of it, vaguely smelling like the stale scent he'd smelled except decidedly more mature...and holy FUCK was he huge! Vern was pretty big as a wolf, a healthy six and a half feet tall and decently muscular, but this guy had him beat by a foot at least and had real bulk to him. For a youthful werewolf, he was quite the titan...and unfortunately, Vern found himself very much in his crosshairs, and scarcely had time to react before he was rushed again. "Whoa, hey, wait-!"

Weres were durable - Vern wasn't worried about being killed, he'd taken some nasty blows before and come out just fine. But that didn't mean he didn't FEEL it when he took a solid hit, like when at least a couple hundred pounds of raw muscle wolf slammed into his rib cage. This time the mystery werewolf had a better angle and landed on top of him, trying to snarl and nip at him. Vern had little choice but to try to fight him off, trying to claw at him and bite at him. He managed to push the other wolf off of him after a bit, but he couldn't get away from the other wolf and soon found himself pounced on again.

Vern rather quickly started to realize this was a losing battle. He'd had his fights before, but he wasn't a fightER - what scraps he had were more him trying to get away than anything. And while he was completely in control of himself, that almost worked to his disadvantage here. There was such a ferality about the way the other fought...he clearly was a bit overwhelmed by the primal side of his mind, but that made him more instinctive about the way he attacked, and with his raw size and power Vern had no hope of truly standing up to him. This was getting ever more clear with each engagement, as the other wolf was wearing him down more and more without seeming to flag at any point. Vern would struggle underneath him and push him off, but the other would leap right back on him, and though he managed to dodge the rush a couple times he was inevitably grabbed and brought back down, or got a swipe across the muzzle that distracted him long enough to be tackled again. The bites and scratches were mostly blunted through his fur, but he was still getting some blood drawn and not drawing any.

He managed one more time to shove the other wolf off of him, but Vern was getting tired; winning was well beyond his reach, and he needed something else. As he tried to start getting away, he was tackled again from behind and pinned to the ground again - an even worse position for trying to fight his way out. There weren't many options left...so Vern went with one that he hoped would get the other calmed down enough to end this without further chaos. "I submit! I submit!"

For the moment, it seemed to work; the younger werewolf curtailed his overt aggression, though he still kept Vern solidly pinned to the ground. It was a start, though, the situation was already less crazy...though, Vern knew there could still be trouble, it was typically considered a bad idea to submit without knowing much about who you were submitting to. These things carried more weight among weres than humans, hierarchies of power were part of their instincts, and this was especially true among werewolves. But just saying it didn't make it so, he could still talk his way out of this one. "I...had no idea another werewolf was around here...I didn't smell any scents...if I, uh, if I intruded upon your territory, I...I'm very sorry that I did so. I'm new around here, and-"

A deep growl from above cut him off. The younger werewolf's grip tightened on him, imposing on him more. Vern felt himself getting nervous, was the other werewolf just that irritable? He wasn't sure, until he felt something hot and wet suddenly push against his exposed rear. Just saying he submitted didn't mean he did, but it could be taken that way - and the other werewolf could use that as a way of expressing his dominance in a FAR more indelible way! "W-wait, hang on, can't we talk this out? We don't have to go this far with-"

Another harsh growl from above, and suddenly Vern was speared with a thick and growing cock, intruded upon for the first time in quite a while - he'd had a few partners back in the city but he'd been out of that for the last year trying to get away from all the mess. This was not how he expected to be reintroduced! He let out his own strangled cry as he felt that fat staff pierce him - it was definitely BIGGER than anything he'd had with previous partners, and he still wasn't even fully hard yet!

He struggled a little bit, but the purpose of it was rapidly lost on him as more and more force was put into the younger werewolf's vigorous thrusting. Again, it was a losing battle, that other one was just so much bigger and stronger than he was, there was no way he from his prone position could escape that heavy weight and fearsome grip. And with every thrust of that thick cock into his tailhole, he wanted to less and less, instinct taking over as he fell well and truly into submission. Such a natural expression of power and dominance, he had no hope of standing up to it, his powerful primal side all too happy to recognize a natural superior. As it did, his own cock slid out of his sheath and swelled, getting trapped and rubbed against the ground as it found precious little space to inflate.

The more he ceded, the more the younger werewolf took charge. His thrusts drove Vern more into the ground, and he bore down more closely, letting his growls sing into the older werewolf's ears and make him shiver. The pin got a little less thorough as the struggle against it ceased, allowing the younger to focus more on the raw rutting. Vern yipped as he felt the other's jaws latch onto his shoulder, the tightness quite palpable if not quite painful. He'd heard about dominance mating bites but never experienced one...now he knew why they were considered so effective! That pressure just seemed like it was embedding a few nails into his mind, affixing the dominance of the other to him on the deepest possible level.

The crazy thing about it was that none of it felt calculated. Every part of the thorough domination seemed to be haphazard, impulsive...like the other werewolf didn't even realize what he was doing, was just following instinct. None of that made it any less effective on Vern, who was now moaning and crooning with utter bliss under the sexual assault, clinging to the grass and arching back into the harsh fucking, whimpers of 'Alpha' leaving his muzzle involuntarily...how easily he'd fallen in to someone who hadn't even sought it out!

That, perhaps, just spoke to the natural allure of the bigger werewolf. An allure that was coming through not just in the wet smack of his knot against Vern's abused tailhole, not just in the tight clasp of his jaw on the older's shoulder, but in the thick scent of musk and sex that was gathering heavily in the air around them, flooding Vern's nose with delightful decadence in its oily saturation. His heart was pounding for a very different reason now, thudding against his chest as hard as that knot was against his rear...and that rush of blood was only fueling his own boner, which was smearing fluid against the wetting soil and along his own fur, ceaselessly and intensely ground against the bare forest floor, churning out bolts of precum faster than he could ever remember. He was starting to understand how the sluts in the therian communities who thrived on being dominated felt, why they enjoyed their routine debasement so completely...he never thought he would be one for that himself, but clearly he was wrong.

Everything started to get tighter eventually - the grip of the younger werewolf on his body, the jaw on his shoulder, the fit of that throbbing pole in his rear, the tension in his own body as he felt himself being almost bullied towards his climax, and loved it. The dominant one was trying to seal it in by making him take the knot, and he wanted nothing more than that, almost craved that huge bulb in his rear, like it was a matter of life and death. He wanted to push back, but did not, instead giving all the power over to the younger werewolf rutting him, letting him take it and cement his status...it took perhaps a little bit longer than if he'd been more active, but the other werewolf finished the job emphatically, popping his knot in with one final fearsome thrust that thumped the tip of his cock so deeply into Vern that he could swear it had to shove other parts of him aside.

It was too much for him - he came, hard, squirting his seed out onto the ground and into his coat, ensuring he would be a complete mess before all was said and done. And finally the younger werewolf released his shoulder and howled his conquest to the sky as he began releasing his torrent of seed into Vern, flooding him with his spunk and marking him to the deepest depths as his superior. That heavy sack was pumping quite the volume into him, and the knot was making sure none was leaking out, it felt like it was spreading throughout the entirety of his body. Vern loved every second of it, squeezed down on him to get more out of him, aiding in his submission both consciously and instinctively.

He could have stayed that way all night, but his orgasm didn't have quite THAT much staying power, and neither did his new alpha's. Eventually the release tapered off, and he was left panting, ravaged, thoroughly fucked, and unbelievably satisfied. Maybe it wasn't so bad to be a beta...he wasn't sure he wanted to go too many steps below that, but submitting to one werewolf wasn't necessarily a troublesome thing, right? Especially if getting rut like this felt this good...

He hadn't realized the change that had come over his alpha until the wolf spoke in his ear. "Wow! That was awesome!" It almost startled Vern - the other hadn't said a word up to this point. Clearly, though, he'd been released from the grip of his instincts...well, that meant it was probably a good idea to engage the wolf he was going to be deferring to.

"That...yeah, that was...pretty incredible. Uh...I don't think I caught your name..."

"Oh? Oh. Uh, yeah. My name's Riley. You?"

"Vern...ah, I just moved here recently...uh, I didn't realize you lived around here...never smelled any scent markers or anything..."

Riley was quiet for a moment. "Scent markers?"

Vern had to hide his bafflement. He didn't know what scent markers were? Vern had learned about them from other weres well before he was old enough to start engaging in 'alpha' activities. "Yeah...they're ways of marking your territory."

"Marking your territory?"

"Uh...haven't any other weres told you about this?"

"Nope. I don't know any others...you're the first one I've actually met. But if this is how they greet each other I hope I meet more!"

Well, that explained it...instinct was one thing, but it didn't tell you exactly what you were doing instinctively. And a young werewolf might not make scent markers even by instinct if they weren't around other weres, that was something that usually came with experiencing competition unless one was already old enough to have been there. "Well, ah...that's...not usually the greeting, really..."

"Oh? Do you know a lot about living around weres?" Vern could FEEL Riley's tail wagging. The younger werewolf was so excited, there was a definite earnestness about him, he was clearly not familiar with the culture like Vern was...this was a good opportunity to help out a fellow were who needed to know how to interact with his peers when he got to them.

"You could say that...I'd be happy to tell you more about how they do things...there's a lot to learn, but I think you'll, ah, you'll catch on...since we're packmates now and all it would make sense anyway..."

"Yeah! I want to know more, I want to fit in when I meet them!" Riley tugged a bit on their tie, making Very yip and wince. "Ah, sorry! Uh, it doesn't usually stay up this long..."

"N...no...not when you're...just using your hand, but it's...different when you, uh, tie with someone else." That would have been a good lesson to impart BEFORE feeling like his colon was about to be yanked out of him. "It's gonna be here for a while, just...kinda relax and wait for it."

"Oh...I hope it doesn't take too long, I have school tomorrow."

Vern's ears twitched at that. "Wait...how old are you?"

"Eh? I'm gonna be seventeen next month. Is...is there something about that that I should know?"

"Ah, no, just...wondering." Vern was glad Riley couldn't see him flush in the dark. Heaven help me, I've got an alpha half my age. I thought I was years away from the younger generations taking over...hopefully I can teach him well enough that I'll stop worrying about that...I'm part of his pack now, so I'd better get used to it.