FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author's Note: the following is a work of furry fiction. All characters, events and such are © to their respective creators. The ASL, Dark Knights and related incidents are © CJ Cloudkicker, and the story itself is © me. This story may contain things of an adult nature, such as violence, lycanthropy, and acts of yiffery. If it ain't your cup of tea, drink something else. Otherwise, read and enjoy. Special thanks to CJ for the great storyline, and for asking me to add to his work. I just hope I can do it justice...

Feedback always welcome to [email protected]

Also...you might want to check out Jonathon Ford's stories about the ASL and the Dark Knights to get a gist of the organization. You might be a little confused otherwise...in any case, enjoy!

The Dark Knights: Pride and Prejudice ©MMIV Whyte Yoté

The wind howled shrilly through the pines, causing the normally placid lake's surface to roil and break high on the shore. Low hisses and the creaking of branches were the only sounds in the mountain forest. Snow, invisible and blinding, stung his eyes as he fought to keep control of himself.

Sounds of humans shouting, far away but still dangerous, wafted over the blizzard's onslaught to his sensitive ears. Even under the snow pack, he could tell there were at least ten of them, and that they were still searching for him in this weather. They meant to have a hide at the end of their search, regardless of how long the hunt took.

The lupine hunkered down further, pressing his emaciated body as far back into the snow as it would go. Instead of concentrating on the cold, he focused all his energy on keeping in feral form until he was sure he would be safe. Even in this sparsely populated part of the country, it was still possible to be spotted, no matter how much his albino fur blended into the snow. The reason he was in this situation in the first place was that he had allowed himself to be tracked.

For what seemed like the millionth time in the past week he cursed himself, his species, the moon, whatever he could to feel sorry for himself. The silver sphere still hung fat in the winter sky, and he could see it despite the driving snow. How could something so beautiful, which gives so much life and energy to those who crave it, be such a bane to those same few? He couldn't find an answer, and stopped thinking about it.

He began to scan.

* * *

Behind the frosted-glass door leading into Transfer Room 3 at ASL headquarters, the graveyard shift lazily passed the time talking and playing cards as they monitored the dozens of security cameras stationed throughout the transport level of the vast complex. For the newest of the staff, it was another eight hours glued to flat-panel displays of empty hallways, side rooms and doorways.

To the more experienced, though, it was a piece of cake. At frequent and even intervals, their eyes did a quick once-over of the monitors, ready to see the same old images but prepared to find anything out of the ordinary. There hadn't been any sort of elevated threat since the return of Lt. Jeffery Tunstan to active duty, and that was quite a while back. In fact, one could say that things had been a little too quiet around the base.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the complex, and Base One on the moon, certain ultra-sensitive electromagnetic machines were beginning to spike. Small, almost insignificant at first, but taller little by little as the EM field around the area grew increasingly agitated. To most it would have been shrugged off as just a fluke in the atmosphere, but soon enough the something that was causing the disturbance would actually be a someone.

And no one was paying attention to the small seismograph over in a corner, as its needle, which had been stationary for years, wobbled a bit from side to side.

* * *

He could smell them now, approaching closer with every minute despite his best efforts to keep hidden. His scanning went still unrewarded, an unusual occurrence. He remembered just where he was, though, and knew finding an escape was slim to none this far north. Where people (especially friends) were scarce, they made up for their isolation in fear and misunderstanding.

Not more than half a mile now. How were they tracking him? He sniffed the air, glad of his newfound nose, and separated scents. His own he dismissed as easily as blinking; the snow and lake shore around him; pine and cold; the humans with their rotten stench of alcohol and awful colognes. And beyond that...dogs! Left at the cars, though, almost too far away to even be sensed.

The snow cave shifted, sending a fine mist of snow down onto his head. The white wolf shivered it off, stood up, tensed. He had to do something-move somewhere, anywhere other than here. He would die here if he stayed; it was the coward's way out.

Suddenly he felt the worst loneliness he'd ever felt wash over him. Isolated from the world into which he had been born, not quite a member of the one to which he currently belonged. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Life wasn't supposed to be this hard. He didn't count on...what? Being hunted?

Of course not. But life's not fair.

He shrugged the voice from his head and crawled to the mouth of the cave. The snow had let up slightly, allowing him to see about ten feet forward. Darkness, and only darkness. Only the moon shone down through the night, but the driving snow negated its effect. He felt it nonetheless, turning his shaggy head up and murmuring a silent prayer to whatever gods happened to be listening. His fur bristled with new energy.

His nose wrinkled, and he snuffled...gasoline.

The Jeep pulled directly in front of his field of vision, blocking out all else. How could he not have heard the engine? Stupid! he thought, but had no time for excuses. It was do or die. Instinct allowed for nothing else, and like a shot he was out of the cave.

Six feet to the Jeep, and he hardly noticed the pain in his left hind leg, or the heat which followed. Adrenaline took hold of his brain. The humans were upon him, surrounding the Jeep. Thirteen in all, and one of them was Jason's brother. The wolf picked that up immediately, and it made him sick to his stomach. That night...it seemed to be the end of both of them...

"Come out of there, you perverted monster!" came from the front of the vehicle. "Bobby, get under there and grab 'im!"

"No way! You do it!" came another voice, younger and unsure. These humans were scared (he could hear and smell that without effort), and stupid to boot. The lupine's crafty nature took over and he started thinking in terms not of "am I going to get out of here or not" but of "how am I going to get out of here." He circled the undercarriage, letting the humans argue above him, looking for holes in the group and finding none. He would have to change that. The only problem was a slight itching in his hind leg, something that nagged and never quite went away...

"Fine then, baby. Hey! What's-yer-name! Furball! Come out." The voice had softened just slightly, and the wolf barely made out the last part of it. "I know you can talk, can'tcha? We just want to...discuss things."

He growled in spite of himself, hearing what the man had to say and knowing it was all lies by the stench coming off him. If they ever find a way to bottle that scent, he thought, they'll have to call it "Deception." He chuckled to himself, and shivered again. An odd warmth was starting to grow in his leg, and he was starting to get a little giddy. He sat down for a moment and noticed for the first time that he was wounded.

The leg, normally so clean and devoid of tangles, was a mess. The shotgun blast had torn through the muscle and several bloodlines, which still dripped from three dozen or so holes in his flesh. The fur there was matted, wet and a deep brownish-red. He sniffed at the wound, reeling at the irony smell and feeling panic grip his stomach. He would not-could not die here, like a mongrel underneath the Jeep. He was afraid in some respects, yes, but he was by no means an out-and-out coward. It was time to throw caution to the wind.

The men were still arguing over who would peek under the Jeep as he inched his way forward. First the tip of his nose. Then his eyes. He looked up, encouraged when he saw the bickering had diverted all attention from him. Humans were so easily amused. Crawling with his sunken belly low to the ground, he inched slowly back into the cold and the snow. He could still smell the unnatural gasoline, and it bothered his nose something fierce. Just a few more seconds and he could limp free...

He sneezed. It was just a small little snuff! but someone heard him. The wolf looked up, directly into the eyes of a bearded monster of a man. The eyes held nothing but hatred and blind contempt. For the first time since he had been changed, he felt literally like an animal.

"Hey!" the man bent down, lightning-quick, and gripped his tail in one meaty fist. He yanked, hard, meaning to bring the wounded creature to his face and break its neck. The motion was too slow, and when the startled wolf found an opportunity he seized it: right between the man's legs.

He jerked forward and sank his powerful fangs into the softness underneath the denim. The fabric didn't break, but he felt a satisfying squish as something gave way, and the sound that came out of the man's mouth was something indescribable. Immediately he was dropped to the ground and he skittered away, his large paws finding easy purchase in the snow. Behind him the man continued to squeal like a stuck pig, the rest of the humans giving chase all too slowly.

He began to limp harder. He was not free yet.

* * *

The shift change came and went at ASL, as usual at the top of the hour: midnight, the start of another day.

Ensign Clark Probst walked into the grey terminal room at the north end of the complex, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand. He had relieved the previous ensign in the anteroom, and now made his way to the terminals, ready for his eight-hour shift (the most boring of the day) to begin. Although he had had enough sleep, he always felt a bit groggy during these night-into-morning shifts. Something about the darkness outside had that effect on him.

He dismissed the thought, sat down, and slid his keycard into a slot on the side of one of the large monitors. The red light flickered green, and his personalized desktop (GOOD EVENING, CLARK flashed in front of his eyes while it loaded) greeted him as always.

"Good evening," Probst replied, knowing his words would not be answered. He checked up on the status of each camera, typed in some commands for positioning, opened up his report file for the night and leaned back. The screens glared silently and dead up into his face. At least they were in color.

One of the screens was marked "TR3": Transfer Room 3. It couldn't be told by looking at the screen, but the temperature was slowly rising in the room, as if in expectation of an arrival.

Beside his legs and hidden from his view, an EM recorder began to wiggle back and forth on its rotating drum of paper.

* * *

He had no idea just how hard it was to run wounded and scan at the same time. He bounded as best he could through the trees and darkness. His large paws made snow travel easier, but his rear leg was losing power and fast. Thankfully, the snow had let up quite a bit since he had escaped. The humans were now too far behind him to matter.

There was nowhere for him to go. Hospital? No way. He was too weak to change back right now, even if he wanted to. How would he explain away the shotgun blast to his leg? Either way, suspicious minds were dangerous.

He smacked into a pine tree without even knowing it; his mind had been wandering again. His vision doubled, then trebled, and he closed his eyes from the dizzying rotation of everything. A racked cough that brought up blood. A restless twitching in his dead leg.

He scanned one last time. And was almost overpowered by a response. Once he had blocked his vision and tuned in, his head fairly hummed with the presence of a strong EM field, not even far from his current position. Whatever it was, he knew he could use it. Anywhere but here.

Trudging through the snow, dragging the numb limb behind him, he continued to go blindly, preferring to rely more on his sixth sense than any of the other five. The humming in his head became a throb as he neared the source of the EM field. Feeling he was close, he opened his eyes...and let out a yip of terror.

He was no more than four feet from the edge of a cliff. He crawled to the edge and looked over. The drop looked to be about 60 feet straight down, with ledges and outcroppings here and there. The wolf looked around him, trying to pinpoint the source of his scan. Nothing all around. The bottom of his stomach dropped and he looked over the cliff, narrowing his concentration. The rest of the world seemed to vignette at the edges, but it was there, clear in the middle of the night: he would have to climb down.

Putting his right leg blindly over the edge, the lupine felt for a foothold. Sensing a solid outcropping, he put more of his weight on it and crept down over the side of the cliff, claws digging into the frozen ground for support. Unfortunately for him, the snow and soft rock made for very weak support, and his footpaw slipped completely off the face of the cliff. Wet pebbles and mud rained down onto the faces below, and the wolf fell forward. He clawed at the ground, but found no purchase. His legs swung far underneath the edge, taking the rest of his body with them in a sickly acrobatic tumble.

The fall was short, but the lupine hit hard on his side. A squeak of surprise was all he was allowed after having the breath knocked out of him. Sharp pangs of agony ripped through his right arm and leg, but fortunately he'd not landed on the shot-wound in his other leg. Loosened snow rained down on him from above, further chilling him and forcing his concentration to wane.

He felt himself shifting back down, but he steeled himself and forced it away. It wouldn't be long now until the shift was inevitable.

The white mist cleared, and he saw the ledge to which he had slipped. It was only nine feet long by four feet wide, but the EM vibration he felt was so strong it made his head hurt. He looked around him, and let out a choked gasp of joy: a five-foot pole stuck out of the ground, its top blinking at intervals. It was a beacon of some sort, definitely electromagnetic, and definitely something he could use to transmit. His head was so light from blood loss, however, that it might be a moot point.

Still, he had to try.

The white wolf, which had become a dirty brown-and-red wolf, grasped the beacon with shaky paws and concentrated on the current. Already he felt the surge of energy, his mind seeing further and further past the plastic tube and into the air around him, spinning and vibrating.

* * *

Probst took another sip of coffee from a mug that had grown cold half an hour ago, grimaced, and poured the remainder in the trashcan beside his chair. Two hours into his shift and nothing-absolutely nothing-had happened. No one had visited his post, no security calls, nothing. The lieutenant's eyes were growing heavy despite his full-night's sleep, and he fought to keep them open.

He bent back and to the right, reaching for his bag and a magazine, and a small beep caught his attention. He looked over to the source, and nearly fell to the floor when he saw the needle on the EM machine. The little piece of metal jerked crazily across the paper, almost to the edges of the preprinted graph.

"Holy-!" he exclaimed, and picked up the emergency call phone on top of a console. The young officer's ear was met with a high-pitched whistle. "Damn." The electromagnetic interference was too much for the phone system. Probst hurried across the room to the intercom, one of the few outdated technologies at ASL headquarters. He depressed the red button and waited for the front desk to answer, thanking God for ancient equipment.

"Front desk, Champlain speaking. Clark, why aren't you on the phone? You know this channel is for emergencies only."

At the far end of the room, the air seemed to come alive, vibrating with a frequency too high for even a dog's ears. Probst's vision blurred slightly. "This is an emergency, James. There's something wrong with the EM. It's getting hot in here, and I can't stop it if I don't know what it is. Get Jonathon down here, quick!" His voice was strained against the growing heat and vibration in the room, and in his head.

Champlain said, "I'm calling him right now, but-" the intercom burst from the wall and into pieces. It hung from exposed wires like a dying limb. Probst ducked, but one side of his face came away stung and bleeding from the shrapnel. He turned to look at the transporter chamber, which was used to send people on missions from headquarters to the surface, and to Base One. An ethereal glow was building, seeming to hover in midair between the head-and footpanels. Streams of electricity sparked from its center and threw hot light on the walls, turning their normally grey paint into a bright white.

Even though Jonathon was undoubtedly on his way, that left little for the officer to do but gawk in disbelief as the room seemed to vibrate, as if it were breathing of its own accord. The air was sucked out of his chest, like water before a tsunami, and he gasped harshly. Any screaming he might have wanted to do would be impossible. The sparks grew bigger, reaching across half the length of the room, over the bank of consoles and screens. One hit the metal backing plate of the console and it exploded in a shower of sparks and blue flames. Probst crawled to his security desk and curled up under its protective bulk. Even in the recessed space, shadows were nonexistent; the unearthly light fell everywhere.

Probst watched the back wall and the reflections in the large panes of glass separating TR3 from its anteroom. The crackling, humming source of EM energy strobed once, nearly blinding him. He closed his eyes just before the second strobe, and still he couldn't block it out. A third flash was accompanied by an intense crackling, and the pressure around him dropped drastically. His ears popped painfully, and he plugged them with his fingers.

He felt somewhat like a little boy, afraid of the dark...but this was definitely not a little boy situation.

The next flash was even louder, and stayed lit. The humming grew lower until it rattled the very fillings in Probst's teeth, and there was a huge silent explosion-silent in that there was no detonation, but rather a gigantic pressure wave that washed over the length of the room like a thermonuclear blast. The air gave a nauseating leap up and down, and the bank of consoles bulged, then blew outward. The riveted steel bowed and split its seams, but remained intact in the corners, which had been welded as well as riveted. Every single LCD screen cracked and shattered, some falling to the floor.

Probst's desk lurched forward and slammed into his back and neck, and everything that had been on top of it fell backward. His keyboard, the empty coffee mug, pencils, and paper rained down. The officer opened his eyes just in time to see the bulletproof windows go from clear to opaque as millions of minute cracks appeared simultaneously throughout them. He stared in awe as they seemed to melt out of their frames and rained down onto the concrete floor in a shower of shards. It seemed impossible.

After the glass had ceased its chaotic tinkling on the floor, there was nothing left to hear. That is, until Probst took his fingers out of his ears (it had proved fruitless against the humming) and let them return to normal. There was a soft, wet rustling sound coming from the transport pad. Reluctantly he stood up and turned around.

He scanned the ruined room, amazed that it had been pristine just minutes earlier. The transport pad was the only part of the room not broken or charred by the maelstrom. What he saw wriggling there made him sick and fascinated him simultaneously.

It appeared at first to be a mass of grey, quivering jelly, but as Probst approached it became clear it was more of a mass of goo, a plasma, with something inside of it. It looked like something that had just been born, but the wrong color. It was moving, and the officer squatted down to get a closer look. His fascination had overcome his initial fear, and he could see the thing was in no shape to defend itself or strike out at him. He would not touch it though.

The thing pushed itself against the slimy membrane with what Probst guessed was its head. The goo stretched to become shiny and taut, and suddenly split without a sound. It rolled back like skin over a jaw and sharp teeth, black nose, and fur that looked to have been white at one point. The thing pushed its head fully out of the goo, and opened its muzzle (it was looking less and less like an alien being now) in a hitching gasp for air. The jaws widened and narrowed as it breathed fresh air into its lungs. Its eyes were wide open, and looking at him.

He said, "Are you all right?" as if expecting it to answer. He kicked himself mentally for doing such a stupid thing, but was surprised when it lifted its canine-like head as if in reply. The eyes, a deep blue, rolled up and its head fell back to the floor, unconscious.

Probst turned and walked back to his desk, picked up the phone and got nothing but static. He set it in its cradle, where it promptly fell apart. Nothing, it seemed, had escaped the blast wave. So much for confirming Jonathon's arrival. He turned back to the transport pad and nearly jumped out of his skin.

The thing was transforming before his eyes. Probst crossed the room quickly, bending over the creature as its head, the only visible part of its gel-covered body, changed shape. The muzzle retreated, the teeth rounding off, the dirty fur disappearing back into the skin. He knew all the signs, but couldn't believe it was happening right now. The new moon had just passed two days ago; the time was nearly opposite of that which was viable for shifting. Everyone in the ASL knew that. Just the same, the thing before him was turning from a wolf (he had figured that much out thus far) into a human, having been utterly exhausted from its sudden manifestation, which had used neither the transporter nor its method of operation.

His fear now turned into concern, Probst waited for the change to complete and put two fingers to the man's neck, checking for a pulse. At least he knew his visitor's gender. The heartbeat was strong and a little fast, but that was still good. He stood up again, just in time to see Jonathon turn the corner and look through the glassless windows at him.

"Clark, what happened here?" His face was a mask of bewilderment.

"You-you would have to have been here to see it for yourself, sir," replied the officer, thinking his cut and bleeding face was quite the sight to his Captain. "I don't know how, but a man transported himself into the room, but he didn't use the pads. Sir, he's-"

"I know." Jonathon sniffed the air, something he tended to do sometimes. He retained some of his werewolf qualities, although weak, in his human form. "I could smell it almost from the end of the hall. But how?"

Probst shrugged. "I'd like the same answer, sir. I was hoping you would be able to tell me."

Jonathon shook his head and walked to the man curled up on the floor. He was shivering, and all but dead to the world. He sighed, troubled that he didn't have an explanation. "Probst."

"Yes, sir?"

"Go to the security desk in TR2 and call the infirmary. I want him taken to an ER, given complete treatment, and plenty of rest. Call me at the first signs of consciousness. I want to talk to him as soon as he's able. Okay?"

"Absolutely, sir." Probst left the room through one of the empty windows, leaving the Captain to look at the poor thing, with a leg wound he could see now, on the floor in front of him. He shook his head and waited for the paramedics to arrive.

The seismograph had been destroyed in the maelstrom, but amid the wreckage of the room sat the small drum of paper, with a single line broken by small jagged peaks, signs of a coming storm like the heartbeat of the earth.

* * *

The satellite phone beside his bed had rung eleven times before Jonathon picked it up and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" he said. It sounded nothing like "hello" through the haze of deep sleep.

"Sir, he's disappeared."

"Who's disappeared?"

"The guy who blew up TR3. He slipped out just before sunrise."

Jonathon shook away the remaining cobwebs from his mind. He had been so busy with other projects the last week that he had all but forgotten about the mystery werewolf in TR3. He remembered now that he wanted more than anything to talk with him.

"Track him down. We're on an island; he can't get far. I doubt he can even get out of the complex. In the meantime, I'll do my own searching."

"Very good, sir," the ensign on the other end of the line said.

Even though he knew his guest wouldn't be there, Jonathon went to the infirmary to ask some questions: what time he was discovered missing, which direction the orderlies on duty thought he might have gone, and a general description. The mass of grey jelly (it had been a cross between mucus and protein fluid, both protection and nourishment for the exhausting changes he had to endure) had been washed off, so the nurses could get a better look at him.

Now that he had something to look for, he made his way to the most obvious places he thought someone with a shotgun blast to the leg would go: not far, but quiet, secluded, and inside the complex. He checked the arboretum, the coffee lounge, even the cafeteria, all to no avail. He had checked nearly every hallway in the main complex when his phone alerted again.

"Ford here."

"Sir, just to let you know...there was a short in one of the doors earlier. About 0630 hours.

Jonathon raised his eyebrows. "Go on."

"Not much more to report, other than there is a crew fixing the board right now. A report will be on your desk by this afternoon."

"Thank you. Would you mind telling me where that crew is currently?"

"Of course, sir. Downstairs in the old offices. It's the exterior door leading to the north beach and jogging path."

"Very good. Thank you for your quick work."

"You're welcome, sir. If I may ask a question?" The ensign's voice was laced with trepidation and more than a little curiosity.

"You may."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the new guest, would it sir?"

"Don't you think it's quite the coincidence otherwise? The plot keeps thickening, and if someone's shorting out our doors I need to put a stop to it before our entire security grid is compromised. We can't have that."

"No indeed, sir. Thank you, and good luck. Over and out."

Jonathon clicked the phone shut and sighed to himself. It was more than an inkling-it was practically a surety that his guest had shorted the door. He knew the level of security in the complex; whoever could pull a technical job like that was either very smart or very stupid. Either way, it presented a security threat that he needed to remedy.

He quickly made his way to the elevators and sublevel. The doors slid silently and opened onto the cool, dark hallway. The closer he got to the outside, the stronger the smell of salt air and mildew grew. Turning a corner, Jonathon found the electrical crew busy replacing the blown circuit board on the inside panel of the door. Since the heavy metal slab was propped open now, he merely saluted the men and women, gave a few words of praise, and stepped through the door into midday sunshine.

A few hundred yards straight out from the door, the walkway disappeared into the white sand of the island's north beach. To the right and up a small hill sat a mile-long jogging track surrounded by jungle. It was fenced off to protect runners from the predators of the rainforest. To the left was a mostly unused path, one that stayed closer to the cliffs on the north and west edges of the island. It was used rarely, except as an emergency exit or a sunset walk near the beach. Jonathon had a hunch, and he took this path.

It was clear, but grown in slightly on the sides by scrub and ferns. A gently sloping hill of lush vegetation gave way to high, jagged cliffs, nearly two hundred feet tall in places. They loomed over his head as the path neared the beach. Piles of fallen rocks, broken from the cliffs, separated him from the beach by a good forty feet, and there were only two walkable trails out there from this path. Jonathon ignored the first and took the second, fully on the west side of the island.

He gained the beach, piercingly white and not at all hot despite the noon sunshine. There was a warm south breeze, so the waves here were placid and almost nonexistent. Jonathon looked to the sides and found what he was looking for to his left, at the very edge of the beach.

The young man sat there, under a boulder that formed a natural overhang, feet buried in sand, skipping rocks. He did not seem to notice the captain. He squinted out to sea, taking smooth, flat rocks from his left hand and tossing them to the waves with his right. Jonathon watched for a matter of minutes, counting more than twenty skips on some of the throws. He finally approached the man, still wearing an infirmary robe with the ASL logo, and sat down next to him. There was no reaction.

"Three million," he said as if quoting the price of a new car.

The man looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me?" The voice was soft but gritty, an aftereffect of the painkillers. Cottonmouth.

"Three million dollars. That's how much damage you caused in Transport Room 3, and to that door back there." His tone was not accusatory, but factual. He didn't care about the money, as long as the life was safe.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know where I was going to end up, and I didn't count on the transformer."

Jonathon was still confused, but decided he could afford to wait for an explanation. "I don't care. I don't think our private donors do either. If you want to go to the beach, you can ask me next time. Okay?" It sounded like he was talking to a child, but he couldn't help it. He extended his hand. "Captain Jonathon Ford. I don't believe anyone knows your name yet."

They shook hands. The man's grip was strong, almost angry. "Neil Lacey. Neil's fine."

"I'm Jonathon then. So, I suppose I have to ask sometime: what possessed you to come out here? We have wild animals that prowl the premises and the surrounding forest. You could have been killed."

"I've always hated hospitals. They're so...soulless, I guess. White and sterile, void of character. I feel dead in them. Besides, I can hold my own out here. Not right now, but I can at other times." He did not look at Jonathon, but out at the sea, as if waiting for the next thing.

"I know."

Neil looked surprised for a moment but realized that, of course, Jonathon must have seen him shortly after he appeared in TR3. He smiled weakly, not needing another explanation.

Jonathon got right down to the point. "So, Neil...when did it happen?"

The kid (at least he was to Jonathon) thought, looking at his knees. "Two months ago. I was camping with my b-...I was camping with a friend, and I forgot something back at the car. It was half a mile away, and when I reached it they surrounded me. Two of them bit my ankles and brought me to my knees, and one of them grabbed my neck. That's when he-the werewolf, I mean-rose up behind the car. I was scared, sure, but he promised me that if I heard him out I would understand. He told me that I had been tracked for months, since my twentieth birthday. I had the scent and I was marked. That I had not been randomly chosen, but destined for transformation since I was born. I still can't believe it, but I know it's true now.

"Either way, I was going to receive the catalyst. The werewolf said it would be less painful if he...um...well, if he took me like a female, that if the pain was focused in two places at once it was lesser at the neck, where he bit me. He asked my permission, and I gave it. I figured the less pain the better, and I didn't want to scream or anything. So, that's how. He was very slow and caring, asking me if it hurt or anything the whole time. Actually, when he bit me I didn't really feel the pain as much as the warmth of my blood. It healed up fast enough. Before I got back to camp, actually. My friend couldn't tell a thing had happened to me. It was so hard not to tell him."

"How come you told me all of this, Neil? For all you know, I could be a regular human who thinks you're crazy."

Neil looked at him. "I could tell when you were looking at me in the Transport Room. Let's just say I can smell it all over you. Can't you?"

"I suppose you're correct in that. You must be hungry after all this time. Why don't we take some lunch with a view, get you into some real clothes? I bet you'd feel better, and more like talking."

Neil looked anxious for a moment, then seemed to think hard. He relaxed all over and his eyes cleared. Alright, Jonathon. I'd like that. It's a long story, but I figure I owe you an explanation for barging into your installation."

"I'll show you to some guest quarters, and you can meet me at mine in, say, 45 minutes?"

"Sounds good."

Jonathon helped Neil off the sand, sensing a heavy burden in the young man. There was much to talk about, and some of it would not come easy. He only hoped, as they walked back towards the cliffs, that Neil would be willing to share and be helped. He had a feeling he was needed, and badly.

* * *

When Jonathon opened his door he was greeted by a somewhat different Neil. He was dressed in a black polo shirt over khaki pants, he was clean-shaven and groomed, and his overall demeanor had lifted some. Neil smiled when he saw Jonathon.

"Shall we?" the captain asked.

"Sure."

The two made their way to the observatory on top of the island mountain, taking their time. The elevator doors opened up onto the darkly lit room and Jonathon motioned to a table set far on the opposite side, by plate-glass windows overlooking the ocean. The glass was polarized and tinted so that the view was uncluttered with solar flare. It was like looking at the world during an eclipse.

They sat down opposite one another, and Jonathon pressed a button recessed into its surface. An ensign appeared from around a corner pushing a silver serving cart with multiple heated wells. The appetizers were unveiled and served to them, and the ensign retreated, leaving the cart behind.

Neil observed all of this in silent fascination, and finally spoke when he picked up his silverware. "You know, you didn't have to do all of this for me. I really don't deserve anything, not even your hospitality."

Jonathon dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense. Don't feel too special; I do this for nearly all my guests."

"Then thank you," said Neil, feeling a little more comfortable.

"So," Jonathon began, "where did you first meet this boyfriend of yours?"

The little look of comfort drained from Neil's face at this. Jonathon certainly knew how to be blunt about some things. The fact that he had seen through Neil's bluff surprised him, sure, but he had no idea it would be the start of the discussion. He tried to look put off, thought of Jason, and started to cry.

Jonathon saw this and felt a little guilty about bringing up the subject; he had no idea what reaction to expect. Neil sniffed, wiped the forming tears away, and looked at him with deep, set eyes.

"There's no point in denying that, at least. You're very astute, you know that? Anyway...how we met is moot, but it's some of the reason I had to come here in the first place." He picked at the bread in front of him. "We've been going out for two months now...at least I hope we're still together...and it's been the best time of my life. I fell in love. It was the most beautiful feeling in the world. We...can I be frank with you, Jonathon?"

He nodded in reply.

"Good. We had given our hearts to each other, and planned to consummate our relationship three weeks ago. It was supposed to be such a special night, and the shift was the last thing on my mind," he said. There was a long-lost look of regret and happiness on his face. "I'd never done anything before...neither of us had. We had dinner, took in a movie, and by the time we got back to his place our minds were on the same track, so to speak."

"You weren't hurrying it, were you?" asked Jonathon. He hated to sound so much like a parent, but curiosity was his nature. It practically ran in his family, plus he wanted to get to the bottom of this enigma of a young werewolf. He motioned for Neil to continue.

Neil was stunned, but only for a moment. When he realized that Jonathon wasn't prying, but merely interested, he picked up where he had left off. "Absolutely not, sir. We were so much in love, and the fact that we had both waited this long only added to the fire. Some people say that abstinence is stupid, but if you're waiting for the right person and that person comes along it's truly something to behold."

Jonathon nodded. He wasn't a patient man, but he knew that in the long run patience usually led to greater rewards.

"We were all ready; I had bought some stuff earlier that afternoon." Neil's expression was that of a young boy first seeing an ice cream truck trundling down his neighborhood street. "Oh man...I'm sorry...it was heaven. It was like Jason knew everything I wanted, and I didn't have to say a thing. Eventually he asked me if I wanted to be on top, you know? Of course I said yes, and we took our time. It was all well and good until I started remembering my night with the wolves.

"I was having the time of my life...then the image flashed through my brain like a bad dream. All of a sudden I was back by the car, in the dark, only that I was the one on top, instead of the alpha male." Neil's voice had started to quaver with emotion.

Jonathon listened and waited.

Neil put trembling fingertips to his temples. "I-I started to feel the shift coming on as I got closer and closer. I thought about stopping, wanted to stop, but...you could say the wolf took over before I could resist. Suddenly I was seeing myself, on top of him, my hands changing...I was so hot, and I...um...got more aroused. Hell yeah, I wanted to stop, but it felt so good!" His tone was of anger now, at having lost control of such a delicate and dangerous thing.

"I know how that can be," said Jonathon. He and Trisha had taken advantage of the full moon's aphrodisiac-like powers on several occasions. "Did he know what was happening?"

"Not until after I pulled off him. You don't understand how hard it was to do that. The animal in me-it wanted to make him mine forever, mark him. I just wanted to love him. I still want to love him." Tears wetted his cheeks. "I hurt him...we tied, and he screamed. He kept yelling 'it hurts, get off get off GET OFF!' and I wanted to scream that I couldn't...I just growled above him," Neil said in disgust.

Jonathon leaned closer over the table, watching Neil's face begin to twist in emotion again. He had never heard of sex triggering a change before, even inside the moon's cycle. He was still trying to figure out how it happened on the new moon.

Neil continued. "He...ohh, he was screaming so hard. I remember howling at the top of my lungs and thinking, 'he's mine he's my bitch now no one else's only mine' and standing over him as I pumped myself into him. It was the best ten seconds of my life followed by the worst letdown ever. Jason pulled off, and it hurt both of us, and I swiped at him and sliced his leg down the side...it didn't feel like I did anything at all. He got really scared then and just pulled hard and ran to the corner. I stood there, my human emotions finally starting to take over, and realized what I had done and what I must look like to him. All of a sudden I wanted to die. I shifted into feral form-it must have scared him so much-and ran away, blood dripping from my crotch. The last thing I remember seeing were his eyes, dead and lifeless like they are when you're in a coma.

"I got outside and turned back, wanting to apologize, that I meant to tell him and neither of us could know this would happen. That's when his brother walked in and saw us. It scared me, and I ran home before changing back."

He listened as Neil struggled through the rest of his story. How he had watched through the windows for days as Jason told Mike, his brother, what had happened. How Mike had vowed to kill the monster that had hurt his sibling. How the hunting posse had been formed in true Canadian backwoods style. How he had taken feral form and escaped to the forest, existing on berries and his own kills for two weeks before being discovered. How they had hunted him for three days across snowy fields and timber. How he had been shot in the leg and narrowly escaped, finding the beacon at the last moment. His face seemed to age by the minute as he recalled the last few months of his life.

Jonathon was finding it very difficult to take it all in at one time. He looked across the table at the young man with his puffy face, lovelorn eyes, and shaky hands. He was a man chased, chastised, and chosen to suffer. He wasn't resigned just yet, but he was weak. There was still one thing on his mind.

"How can you change at will, Neil?"

"Well," he replied, very much relieved to change the subject, "that's either very easy or very difficult to answer. I just can. The wolf that catalyzed me told me I would be experiencing something very special, something normal weres don't get to experience. I guess this is one of those things. The first full moon was the hard one, all right. Painful, scary, you name it. After that was over, I thought I had another month to wait. I'll tell you I wasn't looking forward to it as much as I thought I would. But, two weeks later I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee. It wasn't until I got into the bathroom that I realized I had changed. I spent the rest of that night trying to shift back, and eventually succeeded by sunrise. Along the way I also discovered my ability to shift into full feral form. Can you do that, Jonathon?"

The captain shook his head, feeling more than a little envy. "I sure can't. How do you do it?"

"I really don't know. I concentrate on what form I want, envisioning it in my head. At first it was slow, but now it's almost like an orgasm. Once it starts I just let it take over and before I know it, it's done. Sometimes I don't even have to think about it. I just shift and go."

"You are one special guy, Neil. You're also very lucky. Until we traced the origin of your appearance here, we had completely forgotten about the outpost beacon we'd installed all the way up in the forest there. It hadn't been used in years, because our operatives eventually moved away from the location. How did you know it was there?"

"It's another ability. It's also part of the reason I was able to transport here."

"I figured as much. There was no transporter activity reported in the complex when you appeared, so it must have been you."

"Yeah, it was. I can 'scan' for electromagnetic fields, radio waves, and some other things. I center on a wave, track it down, and if I'm close enough I can use it to go to wherever the device of origin or destination is. That I can't explain; it's like tapping into a highway of energy, and merging with the traffic mentally. I just barely made it here. If I had shifted before locking onto the EM field, I would have died on that ledge. I don't like to think of that. I don't think I want to go back there again, ever."

Jonathon looked concerned and curious. "Why not? Don't you think Jason's worried about you? He must be; you've been gone for days."

Neil looked across the table for a moment, and looked down, thinking. "Judging by the way he reacted when I spread him open, I don't think he'll want me back. I can't bear to see him again. I know I wouldn't want to."

"You can't know that for sure, Neil. At the very least you owe him an apology. If he's as caring and understanding as you told me, I have a feeling you'll be surprised at his take on this exceptional situation."

"I'm a monster, aren't I? You, you're a creature of two worlds, controlled by the moon. I-I am not controlled. Not only can I shift at will, I can scan, I can...do lots of things. Dangerous things. If I can't even control my own life, my own body, how do you expect my boyfriend and best friend to take me back?"

"Neil, listen. You can learn to control it. You can stay here as long as you need to get back on your feet. We can get ahold of Jason, you two can patch things up, we-"

"Just stop." Neil's tone was level and grave. Jonathon realized he had sounded too eager, too much like a guidance counselor and less like a friend. "If I need your help I'll ask for it. You're good at helping people, Jonathon. I can smell that on you too. Just not me. I need to go," he said resignedly.

The captain hadn't put him off too badly, but he had come close to offending the young man. He watched as Neil left the room without shutting the door. He decided to give Neil all the time he needed. His original plan had been to find out what made the special werewolf tick, and perhaps find out if the weres at the ASL could do the same thing. Now that it was a moot point, the business at hand was finding Jason's brother and his gang of hunters, and making them back off or pay for their actions dearly.

He observed the restless sea through the plate-glass window. Less than a minute later a white wolf bounded down one of the paths leading to the beach, skittering every which way excitedly. It ran to the rocks, jumped over logs, circled around, erratic and distressed. It lay down in the sand, and raised its open muzzle to the opaque moon still visible in the afternoon sky. Although no human could have heard the howl through the window, Jonathon just barely caught it, and wanted to plug his ears. He shuddered all over. It hurt his soul to listen.

* * *

Neil woke up on his own, without the aid of his alarm clock. He glanced over his shoulder and looked at the time. It was 2:30pm; it seemed that no matter when he went to bed, he couldn't get enough sleep every night. He found himself drowsy all day, and taking frequent naps. Perhaps, he surmised, the changes still taking place within him were sapping his strength.

Sunlight streamed in from the one window in his quarters. He swung out of bed, stretching and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower, contemplating. Today he would have to do something he'd been dreading for the past week: he was going back home to Edmonton to confront Jason, hopefully without his brother to get in the way. Once the water was adjusted to temperature, he slid into the shower (he had slept nude) and moaned a bit as the warmth soothed his tired body.

The shower was large, partly because the ASL's funding was very large, but mostly because he had been assigned a suite fit for a werewolf. During nights of the shift, even the lycanthropes on the base would need to shower. The stalls were specifically designed with their fur and increased bulk in mind. The ceiling was ten feet tall, the room was twelve feet square, and the two tile walls that formed a corner were interspersed with jets running their length from top to bottom.

Thinking of this convenience, Neil shifted into his midform (the form between fully human and fully feral, in which most werewolves find themselves). It took only seconds before he stood almost eight feet tall inside the stall, covered in bright white fur, and dripping profusely. Pushing a button with his claw, the wall-jets came suddenly alive, sending a hot spray over and onto his entire body. He hunkered down on all fours and shook himself violently. After the preliminary rinse he stood up again and pushed a second button on the wall. Soon, the water combined with a fur-shampoo solution and he began to lather up.

It was twenty minutes later when Neil exited the shower, dripping and smelling not at all like a wet dog. He thanked the gods that werewolf fur didn't stink when wet. He shifted back into human form again, feeling his fur retract into his body. Water cascaded off of him as if he were being rung out. He always liked the fact that he could enjoy a shower in his mid-or feral forms and literally "squeegee" himself off merely by assuming human form again.

After drying off and putting on some civilian clothes, he set out for the cafeteria. There he snagged a quick but heavy breakfast and made his way to the transporters. He nodded to some familiar faces along the corridors, and was relieved that none of them belonged to Jonathon.

The captain had kept his distance the past few days, a sign that he had seen Neil's precarious situation and had given him time to sort out his feelings and clear his head. He had thought for a long time, and come to the conclusion that the only way he could salvage what was left of his relationship with Jason, for better or worse, would be to just go back to him and talk about it. Sounds easy, but words are cheap, he thought.

He supposed Jonathon would have to come back to him eventually, being as concerned as he was. Giving Neil full use of the facilities inside and out of the compound was a sign of immense trust, and Neil had returned the favor as much as he could by obeying all the rules and being generally a low-maintenance houseguest. He didn't think this trip home would be permanent, but he knew one thing: he would be able to flash (his term for tapping EM fields) to Edmonton, but not back to the ASL. That would be something to deal with when it happened.

The transport rooms loomed ahead with the kind of foreboding aspect one senses when entering a haunted house. Neil entered TR3, noting with some surprise that the room had been completely restored to its former state. He strode quickly to the monitor that controlled Pad 2, the middle pad, and entered the password necessary to unlock the system. One side effect of his flashing was the ability to absorb the contents of computers connected to the EM source to which he was flashing. This made it simple to exit the complex, because he had the hard drives of TR3's computers in his memory. It was a mixed blessing in that he also had passwords, databases, address lists, and a little bit of pornography mixed in with all that. It would leave him soon enough, but for now his head jostled with the extra information.

Having gained access and set Pad 2 to transport to Edmonton, he pushed the STANDBY button on the monitor. The upper and lower pads began to glow and vibrate slightly, and the air grew heavy with EM energy. Neil left the machine on standby because he had enough energy to get himself across, and because he wanted no physical record of flashing out. He stepped into the pad, stretching on his toes so there was as little empty space between himself and the pads as possible.

He began to concentrate: first, it was about Jason and all the things he wanted to say and apologize for. They cluttered his thought, and he had to fight to clear his mind once again. Closing his eyes, he tapped into the vibration coming from all around him, saw the bright network of EM energy, and "jumped" his mind onto it. Suddenly the world went white, and he felt himself humming. Just as he was about to flash out, he opened his eyes to see the transport room bathed in a glow, and two officers looking into the window as his physical body winked out of existence, this time with a much more subtle pop! The slight breeze that had formed in the room died, and all was still.

There was always a strange feeling of becoming unstable, as if his bones had suddenly vaporized and he was free to float as he wished. There was no pain or discomfort, but only the static charge of electricity and the abnormal feeling of not being solid for a moment or two. Fortunately, this trip was much shorter than his previous jaunt, and under circumstances not nearly as drastic.

Within moments the white haze in front of him cleared to reveal an expanse of grass circled by trails. Neil closed his eyes and waited a moment for the initial dizziness, caused by his sudden materialization back into the real world, to pass. He heard a soft hum from above and glanced skyward. Power lines crossed the clearing above the trails. He knew exactly where he was, and it would not take him long to make his way back to his home, and to Jason. He started walking through the cool, clear night.

Only fifteen minutes later, Neil stood in an alleyway adjacent to the apartment he and Jason had shared up until a few weeks ago. It was a three-story house converted into apartments, one to each floor. His and Jason's was on the ground floor, and Neil uttered silent praise of his boyfriend's decision to pick that apartment. It would be easy to hear how many people were in the house from where he was standing. Something else would make it even easier...

Neil quickly stripped, keeping out of the light from the sodium streetlamps around the corner, and shifted into midform. The world went pale in color, but the rest of his senses exploded all around him. Taking a preemptory sniff for danger, he raised his powerful body back to a standing position. He perked his long lupine ears and listened for sounds of movement or speech inside. A television, the drip of a drain, and a low whirring of background electricity were all he heard. And then a voice...Jason's!

He listened for a minute, figuring Jason was on the phone by the string of one-sided sentences. Satisfied that there was but a single occupant on the first floor, Neil shifted back to human, clothed himself, and turned the corner to the front door.

Anxiety crept into his heart for the first time. Neil knew this was something he must do, for the sake of his relationship and his love for Jason. Never had he really thought about it before. Now, as he turned the lock with his key, he could barely contain his heartbeat. He padded through the kitchen and into the living room, where a tuft of dark hair peeked over the top of an armchair, silhouetted in light from the television.

Neil took a deep breath. "Jason?" His voice sounded much louder in the silent room than he intended, and the man in the chair jumped at the sound. He turned around and looked at Neil, his face not quite registering the sight for a few seconds. The young-looking, vibrant man with soft features was not the man he was looking at. Jason's face was pale and drawn, his eyes glazed and his hair unkempt. His jaw dropped as he saw the person who had disappeared over a week ago, finally come back, and he was speechless.

"Jason, I...I'm sorry-" Neil began, but stopped when Jason stumbled over the armchair, turning it over onto its back. He rolled onto the floor and the can of beer (but Jason never drinks, he thought in surprise) in his right hand spilled out and drifted away. His boyfriend was crawling over the overturned chair to Neil, and Neil bent down to help him up. He was pulled down forcefully onto the floor and embraced tightly.

Jason's body shook violently and without sound, every muscle seeming to quiver with its own hidden ferocity. Neil just sat there, happy not to have been welcomed with fear or hatred, but what seemed to be an even more powerful love than before. Soon his shoulder was wet with tears. Jason sniffed and pulled back a bit, looking into Neil's eyes. They were red and puffy, but the same color Neil had fallen so deeply in love with.

"Don't...EVER...do that again," Jason said with gratefulness.

"What do you mean?"

"Leave me! Where have you been for the last week? I was worried sick about you! Don't you know how upset I've been lately? I thought-"

"You thought I was dead..." Neil said it with disgust.

Jason looked up, sobbing again. "Yes, I did...I didn't know what to think. Mike and his friends went out to look for you, but they said they didn't come up with anything."

Now it was Neil's turn to be angry. "Oh, they found me alright. I'm lucky they only shot me in the leg."

Jason looked alarmed. "They shot you? Oh, no..." He looked away from Neil. His shock was genuine, and he had apparently been agonizing about something like this for a while.

Neil pulled the right leg of his jeans up, exposing the leg and its mottled shotgun scar, almost healed but still visible. Jason's eyes went wide and he drew away from Neil, backing up against the chair and putting his head in his hands. His anguish was audible now, even through his crossed arms.

"I didn't mean it."

Neil crawled over to his lover and cuddled him gently, trying to comfort him. "Hey, now...I'm here, love. You can tell me whatever you want, because I love you. And I'm confused as hell. Please tell me what happened."

Jason uncovered his face and looked into Neil's eyes. Neil stroked his cheek with a fingertip, and Jason smiled. Neil was always good at making people feel better, even when he was the one who had been hunted in the north woods of Canada. He sniffed and began to speak.

"You probably already know this, but you scared me when you-when you changed like that. I was terrified, and I feared for my life. I didn't know what I was supposed to think. All I knew was that I had a gigantic creature hovering over me who had just slashed my leg open and...well...ripped me a new one. My brain went into panic mode, and I just couldn't stop screaming."

Neil was holding Jason's hand, and now he tightened his grip. "Jason, I'm sorry."

"I know you are. Otherwise you wouldn't have come back tonight. You left when I started screaming for Mike; so quickly, in fact, that I didn't notice when Mike arrived. I was still pretty shaken up and just fell apart when I saw my brother...all I could say was 'monster', 'wolf', and 'that way'. I pointed out the door, not once mentioning you or what we had been doing. Mike doesn't know about us. He can't know, but I have a feeling we don't have time left to keep it secret."

"Oh, great. He's one of those," Neil scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Not everyone can be as accepting as your parents, Neil," Jason said. "So that's what happened after you left. Mike called his friends-drinking buddies is more like it-and they formed a hunting posse after you. All they had to do was follow your, uh, paw prints in the snow, and your scent." He glanced up at Neil, seeing him pensive and far away. "How did you end up back here, anyway?"

Neil thought for a moment. "I was as scared as you, believe it or not. Jason, I'm a lycanthrope. A werewolf, and I became one the weekend we went camping."

Jason was stunned. "But you didn't say anything! Why didn't you-"

"Because I didn't know what I was up against then. I thought I had it under control after the first month, but...things happened. That night, especially. I was afraid I had hurt you more deeply than just flesh wounds, but I couldn't allow myself to stay and do more damage. I ran...as far away as I could before tiring and settling down for the night. It's amazing what a fur coat can do against the wind in the forest. But I had made tracks, and my scent was everywhere; I needed to keep moving. Days went by, alternately hiding and sprinting, until I was too weak with hunger and cold to get away. The finally trapped me in a snow cave, but I had just enough energy left to give one of them a good crotch-bite and scamper away."

Jason actually giggled at this, and caressed Neil's palms as he finished.

"I can't say much how I got back, but I can say I found some very good friends who helped me out of a bad situation and took care of me until I could get back on my feet. And here I am." He shrugged.

Jason sighed and slumped back onto the edge of the armchair. "I just can't believe this. It's too much. This sort of thing only happens on soap operas, right? Please tell me you're the same as you used to be. I mean, werewolves just don't exist. You can't be something that doesn't exist, it's silly." He looked up at Neil with a trace of hope, but quickly cast his gaze down when he saw the frown on his face.

"I don't expect you to like this. Hell, it wasn't even my choice. Remember all that shit about us being 'born' a certain way? Yeah, right from the very beginning. I didn't know then, but right now I do know what and who I am. I still want to be your boyfriend, but I don't want..." Neil's words caught in his throat.

"What?" asked Jason

"I don't want to be rejected, or walk on eggshells and keep the wolf a secret just because it's different. I can still live normally, but whether you want to or not is up to you. I'm not leaving, and by the look of you when I came in, I don't think you will either."

Jason took his hands away and put them on his knees. "What kind of person would I be if I ran away from you because you were different? I would deserve your love even less than I do now. But...but, you need to show me first."

"Show you? Now?"

"Neil, I'm in denial. I need you to show me what I want to see, to make it real so I can move on to whatever next step there is in this. I know what I'm going to see, but it seems so much like a bad dream that I can't help but think you turning into that...that thing isn't real."

"That thing is me," Neil said coldly.

Jason paused, realized the apathy of his words, and embraced his friend tightly. "You know what I mean. I'm scared, Neil. Scared of what I might see, that it might not be you. I'm wondering if when we decided to consummate our relationship, was this what I signed on for? Can I handle something like this? I don't deserve you if I can't."

"We deserve each other," Neil said, his voice lowering slightly as he triggered the shift. "You've proven yourself to me time and time again. You can handle a silly little thing like this." Jason gasped as Neil's hands suddenly grew in his own. He stumbled back, watching his boyfriend grow taller, bulkier, more defined before his eyes. His clothes ripped and fell off in tatters under the stress of the white fur that now completely covered his body. Lanky legs were now thick and sprung, and Jason swallowed hard when Neil's knees suddenly reversed and restructured themselves as digitigrade feet. The sound was not easy to hear.

Neil ripped the rest of the rags off of himself and shook his shaggy mane, waiting for the momentary discomfort of the shaping of his new muzzle to subside. He had allowed the shift to take him much slower than usual this time, to show Jason just how he transformed. Looking down from his high perspective, he saw the human barely able to stand, clutching the armchair for support. His eyes were agape, unbelieving. When the werewolf sniffed, fear was all over the room.

Jason couldn't think. He knew what he had just seen had really happened, but his mind refused to make sense of it. One thing was certain: Neil hadn't lied to him, and this was the wolf who had taken his virginity on that night which now seemed ancient to him. He stood at least seven-foot-six, covered completely in white fur. Gathering his courage, he walked over to the creature and extended his hand. Neil stood still, waiting as Jason reached out and touched his thigh, shivering at its intense softness.

At once, all the fear inside him melted away. He felt the warmth of skin against his fingertips as he stroked the large thigh. Neil bent down and hugged Jason, wrapping his giant arms all the way around the human's waist. He crouched, as an adult would when speaking to a child, and looked at his love. Jason saw the face of a wolf, smiling slightly, and the same eyes he had seen his own reflection in for so long. Neil was still there, just in a different body.

The moment was lost to the two: Jason petted Neil's furry head, and got a low guttural growl of assent in return. Neil stood up, breaking the ice, and did a complete turnaround for Jason.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, sure that the trepidation had passed.

"Remember one time when I said you could never be more beautiful than you were in that moment?"

"I think so, yeah."

"I lied. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Jason admitted. "It's incredible." He noticed Neil's lower, more raspy voice, the tail which betrayed his emotions, and...something very different and very obvious. He looked down.

Neil followed his eyes, blushing a bit when he realized Jason was staring at his new lupine sheath and fuzzy balls. He had never really thought about it that way before (he was surprised he hadn't, actually), but now it was definitely an option. Before he could react Jason came over and gripped his sheath, using it to stroke Neil's member within. The growling became louder, reverberating through his entire body.

Jason looked up, smiling evilly...just like he used to when he was feeling frisky. "I think I could get used to this, love," he cooed.

"You seem to be taking this well," Neil said, running a couple claws down Jason's back.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. You're not scary at all; in fact, you're downright cute!" Jason hugged the wolf as close as he could, nuzzling his face into the solid wall of abs. "There's more of you to love."

Neil stood back from Jason. "There's one more thing."

"What's that?"

The werewolf stood in a defensive stance, feet planted firmly on the floor. He dropped to all fours, wincing a bit as he shifted into feral form. Soon the creature that had been a hulking man-wolf was now pure lupine, standing barely half as tall as Jason and looking up at him expectantly. Neil knew that Jason adored dogs, and could imagine what he looked like now.

"Puppy!" Jason exclaimed, ignoring the second transformation completely and changed into his simplified animal/baby talk. "Oh my God Neil, you're adorable!" He kneeled and gave the wolf a big hug, petting him all over and scritching his ears. Neil blushed under his fur; he was still a little aroused, and the air felt cold on the exposed flesh underneath his trim belly. Neil gave Jason a lick on the neck, just glad to be with him. Neither of them could be afraid anymore.

"Get away from him, you little SHIT!" A voice boomed into the small living room, frightening both man and wolf. Jason turned and stood, his gaze transfixed on the front door. Neil followed suit and yipped his surprise when he saw who was standing in the doorway. Mike, Jason's older brother, the very one who had been trying to kill him before he escaped to ASL headquarters.

Jason's eyes darted quickly from the wolf to his brother and put his hands up. "Mike! Mike, this isn't what it looks like."

"Shut up, J." The well-built man dismissed his brother with a wave of his hunting knife. A voice echoed from outside the door. "You guys stay back, okay? I can handle this myself," said Mike, who strode across the room to the dumbfounded wolf and administered a hard kick to his ribs with one steel-toed boot.

Neil grunted and flew into the corner. He hit hard and yelped at the stab of pain from his broken ribs. Before he could regain his concentration, he shifted back into human form. He moaned, naked in the corner, clutching his chest. Jason rushed to his side.

"Are you alright?" he asked frantically. Then, to Mike: "I can't believe you did that! How dare you, you bastard!"

But Mike wasn't listening. He was silent, having just witnessed the white wolf that had attacked his brother turn into a human being. Finally he managed to speak. "What...what the fuck is this? That didn't just happen."

"But it did, Mike. I think you had better go now, if you know what's good for you." Jason's eyes burned into Mike's with conviction. Not thinking before he acted, he turned his attention back to Neil and stroked his forehead and kissed it.

Mike continued to look at the pair in the corner, his anger-fogged mind struggling to put together the gravity of the situation. He had acted in love, trying to protect his brother as he had been for the past week, but now...now this. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Jason couldn't possibly...

"Is this the thanks I get? Huh?" he asked bitterly. "You come crying to me, tell me to get the beast who sliced you open, have me bust my ass for a week in the northern woods and now you're trying to protect this-this whatever it is?"

Jason glared meekly at him. "I don't expect you to understand, not now at least. I think you should leave us alone and calm down."

"Don't you tell me to calm down, J. Why are you trying to protect him, anyway? What, is he your boyfriend?" he inquired in a mocking tone. It was just a figure of speech, but when Jason gave him an "if-the-shoe-fits" look it finally became clear.

"Get out, Mike."

The older man approached Jason, lifted him up by his collar, and shoved him hard against the wall. Flakes of old drywall rained down from the ceiling. "No brother of mine turns fag. Do you hear me?! I won't have any cocksucking, ass-ramming, limp-wristed sinner in my family." They were words of ignorance and fear, superficial, but Jason felt the pain anyway.

By now, Neil had stood up, albeit slowly. Mike's eyes burned with the fury of a man scorned, and when he turned to Neil they made him shudder. "This is all your fault," he snarled. "You turned him into a fag, didn't you?"

Neil took offense, and poked his finger in Mike's chest despite the pain in his own. "You can't turn people like there's a switch there for the flicking. It would behoove you to leave the issue alone and us as well. Unless you can talk to us in a sane, mature manner, I suggest you turn around before you dig yourself an even bigger grave."

Mike practically roared and threw Jason aside, who scrambled for balance clutching at his sore throat. He reared back to give Neil a good blow to the face, but Neil's face reflected an icy calm, almost daring him to act. He put all his force into it and almost stumbled backwards when his fist stopped inches from Neil's face. There was nothing but thin air between his balled fingers and Neil's nose, but some force was preventing contact from being made. He struggled against the unseen force, but to no avail. Instead, he was pushed back effortlessly.

"Please leave." Neil's face remained steady, unemotional.

A glint of metal caught Mike's eye, and he diverted his gaze. His bowels loosened when he saw his own hunting knife floating in front of his eyes, blade-first. He backed away quickly, turned to the door and stepped out onto the porch. The knife followed, a few feet away, and floated in the doorway as a warning to the rest of the group gathered on the front lawn.

"I didn't know you could do that," said an astounded Jason.

"Another mixed blessing from the werewolf."

The hunting knife fell to the floor. Jason put an arm around Neil's waist and the two went to the door. There they met eight other men, all armed with various hunting weapons. Jason gasped at the mini-army. Mike stood in the center of them, a smirk on his face. He knew they outnumbered the couple, and he would get his way no matter what. Bullheaded, stubborn fool, he thought.

"Get 'im," said Mike.

The mob advanced and Neil sent out a pulse so strong it ripped through the men and sent some doubled over into the grass. He heard the gunshot too late, though. The bullet was too fast and tore right through his shallow mental shield. He felt no pain, but Jason slumped next to him, grimacing. One hand went to his shoulder, where his fingers became red.

That was it. No one messed with Jason.

Neil shifted into midform so fast most of the men screamed. He pushed Jason inside and stepped to the ground, roaring as loudly and fearfully as he could. The humans had unleashed the untapped fury of the wolf within him; if they wanted to see what he was made of they were going to get it. Neil sent out another pulse, multiplied this time by his extended strength, and flattened everyone on the lawn. His breath exited his muzzle in white clouds; drops of dew hung from a whisker.

Suddenly, the night was pierced as a blinding light appeared from nowhere. Three sets of parallel white bars materialized, crossed each other, and left as fast as they had come. In their place stood three werewolves, dressed in fatigues and holding weapons at the ready. All of the humans, Jason included, gawked at the new furry visitors. Only Neil recognized them, and dropped to his knees on the porch. He wasn't used to using his telekinetic powers so much in such a short time, and he was nearly exhausted.

The lead werewolf stepped toward the ragtag group of men and asked, "Which one of you is Mike?" Neil was heartened when he realized in an instant it was Jonathon.

Jason's brother walked forward and puffed out his chest a little. "What do you want, freak?" he sneered, trying to sound tough. Instead it came out meek and intimidated.

Jonathon wasn't about to be taken lightly. "Unless you are going to speak to me and my compatriots in a calm and rational manner, I suggest you leave."

Mike was floored. No one had ever talked to him so condescendingly before. He felt like a kid in trouble. "My brother's already been messed up enough. I don't know who the hell you are, or where you came from, but guaranteed I will not having you fucking up Jason any more than he already is."

The lupine cringed inside, knowing what Mike had meant. Just one more reminder of all the injustice in the world. "I can see that you're in no mood to talk," Jonathon continued, "and most of your friends are drunk, I take it?" His head fairly reeled from the stench of alcohol.

A grumble of anger rippled through the men. They started shouting slurred threats, their voices rising into an otherwise peaceful night. Jason stood on the porch watching the scene, huddled over Neil, who was still in midform. The full moon cast a dull bluish light over the yard. The mob started towards Jonathon and company.

"I'm warning you for the last time. Stand down and talk or regret your actions." His voice was undercut by a low menacing growl, but it did nothing to sate the humans approaching him. They were a group possessed, something out of a horror movie. It pained Jonathon to see people acting so stupidly in this day and age. He raised a paw-hand to his wife, Trisha, and Lt. Jeffery Tunstan beside him, and all three aimed their weapons at the crowd.

Jason called out to Jonathon, "Don't shoot him! I don't want you to hurt him!" He saw the werewolf speak something into his wrist communicator and then finger his trigger.

Neil stood slowly and hugged Jason reassuringly, careful of his wound. "They won't hurt anyone. It's not their business," he spoke into his love's ear. Jason couldn't have known that soon they would all be winked out of this place, because Neil's ears picked up Jonathon's command of "five to transport" with his sensitive hearing.

Jason couldn't believe what his brother was doing. Mike wasn't willing to hear an explanation. He just wanted to go on anger and prejudice and whatever would keep his reputation in front of his friends. He watched as Jonathon and the others fired from their guns. The first row of men fell flat on their backs, and a second later a blast of wind hit him and Neil. They must have been some sort of pressure rifle, designed merely to stun and incapacitate rather than do any physical harm.

Thankfully, the werewolves didn't have to keep it up for long, as the familiar white bars appeared out of the darkness around them and the pair on the porch. The bars crossed each other, and their occupants were gone. A moment later, so were the bars, leaving Mike and his friends to their own devices.

* * *

The trip was an unusual one for the ASL officers in that while the moon was out in the darkness of Edmonton, Alberta, the island to which they transported was located fourteen hours away on the globe. The sun had already been up for hours in the southern hemisphere's summer day. To counteract a sudden shift upon return, the three werewolves had inserted special contact lenses into their eyes which simulated moonlight. This helped trick their brains into thinking the moon was still up, and therefore they didn't have to worry about shifting prematurely. The lenses would work in artificial light, but as soon as Jonathon, Trisha and Jeffery retired to their quarters and looked out the windows, the overpowering light of the sun would trigger their shift back into human form for another day.

Neil collapsed as soon as they were safe and sound inside TR1, returning to human form before he even hit the ground. Jason clutched his shoulder, still breathing, and the others ran over to them.

"Are you hurt?" asked Jonathon, concerned. Trisha was on the phone to the infirmary, and Jeffery had already procured a First-Aid kit, and was returning to where Neil lay naked on the transport pad.

Breathing shallowly, Neil rose to a sitting position, exhibiting his pain. Jeffery told him to lie on his back. He ran his large furry paw-hands over Neil's body, noticing his obvious discomfort in the chest area. "Looks like you have three broken ribs," he said.

Jason, having quickly dressed his own wound, stood up and walked out of the room. Neil tried to go after him, but Jeffery held him down. "Let him go. He's got a lot to deal with. We can keep an eye on him. For now, we need to get you healed. Let me bandage you up."

As Jeffery prepared to wrap gauze around Neil's middle, Jonathon piped up. "Jeffery, stop. Neil, you know that werewolves have intense regeneration powers, right?"

"Yes, I guess so. Why?"

"I was thinking...wouldn't it be better if you shifted to make the healing period shorter?"

"Oh, yeah! That's a good idea."

"And wouldn't it be even better if you shifted all the way down? That you would heal even quicker?"

"I think so."

"What's this 'all the way down' stuff?" asked Trisha, raising an eyebrow.

Neil showed them all by going from human to feral in seconds. He winced a bit as his ribs reformed, but the pain was absorbed by the shift. When he was done, he looked up at the three of them and snuffled. Jonathon smiled, but Trisha and Jeffery were very much surprised.

"You're going to have to teach me how to do that," said Jeffery, his eyes shining from behind the black fur of his face. Neil the wolf merely shook his head, not being able to speak in his feral form.

"I've already asked him, and none of us can. It seems our guest possesses some...shall we say, extra abilities?"

"Like what?" asked Trisha as Jeffery began to bandage Neil's tight chest.

"There's the ability to transform into a full wolf, for one. Second, he can transform into any form at any time, regardless of the moon's phase. Third, and the reason he got to ASL in the first place, is his ability to tap into EM fields and kind of 'ride' them like his own personal transport system. And, finally, what we just experienced tonight. Apparently Neil has telekinetic powers he failed to discuss with me before he-ahem-left earlier today. Neil, is there anything else you'd like to tell us before you go to your quarters?"

The white wolf shook his head and laid his ears back in embarrassment. He regretted not being fully honest with Jonathon, but he also didn't think it had mattered much before. All he wanted was not to get into any more trouble.

"Good." Jonathon's voice softened noticeably. "Can you make it back to your quarters without help, or would you like an escort?" Neil responded by trotting to the door of TR1 and pawing at the control panel. He touched the pad, and the door whooshed open. He looked back at the three werewolves, tongue out and tried to convey his gratitude as best he could by lowering his front half to the floor in a kind of bow. Jonathon saluted him and he walked out, making sure not to stress his ribs too much.

After he had left, Jeffery stood up and packed the First Aid kit away. He said to Jonathon, "You know, I envy him."

Trisha looked queerly at him. "Why? Despite his abilities and all, would you put yourself in his situation?"

Jeffery defended himself. "No, never. I wouldn't wish that on anybody. It's just that after this is all over, he...both of them...will emerge stronger, smarter, and probably more in love than they already are. I haven't seen much, but what I have seen has told me plenty. That's what I envy."

Jonathon and Trisha nodded simultaneously.

"I second that emotion."

"Third."

* * *

Jason wandered the hallways of the ASL complex, slowly making his way back to Neil's guest quarters. He had spent the better part of an hour wandering with his thoughts, trying to make sense of what had happened in the short space of four hours or so. A crew member had given him directions, and he followed the signs through the myriad of corridors making up the vast residential section.

Not even a walk in solitude could decipher all that had occurred to him and Neil. Yet it had all happened, and so quickly. There were things he had to do. Namely, to evaluate his relationship with Neil. Mike...well, Mike was an outside party and deserved whatever opinion he had inside his small, narrow mind. Still, it would be nice for him to understand and be happy for the two of them.

It was a moot point that Jason loved Neil even more through the hardship; they had pledged their undying love for each other multiple times, proven even more so by the decision to wait for that special night. The more he thought about it, the more he forgave Neil for losing control on him. Neil had barely had time to adjust to his new life as a lycanthrope; for almost a month he had been living a double life in misery. Why hadn't he admitted it to him? Either he was ashamed of himself, or he was afraid of hurting Jason somehow. The hurting had come, and it turned out to be both physical and mental. The former had passed long ago, but the latter remained to be sorted out. For that he would need Neil.

He turned the last corner and sighed, looking at the third door on the right. Behind that door was the love of his life. Now, Jason felt like the one with all the problems. After a good sleep they would have plenty of time to discuss things.

The door whispered open and he entered the dark room. Undressing, he saw the lumpy outline in the bed and the slight rise and fall of the chest. He folded his clothes neatly and slid into bed beside Neil, cuddled up close-and nearly jumped when all he felt on his naked body was fur.

He gently removed the covers and was surprised to see his boyfriend in his feral form, asleep on his side. Turned away from Jason, his slender head and muzzle lay on the pillow, his legs splayed out under him, and his tail limp and unmoving. Finally, Jason could take in the sight of his boyfriend. He had always loved canines, and thought wolves were especially beautiful. While not nearly as big as his midform, Neil was still a good size, more than three-quarters of Jason's height. Even in the half-light filtering in from outside, his fur was a bright snow-white, and the only things that weren't white about him were his nose, eyes, and pawpads.

What about something else? A wicked voice queried inside his head. True, he hadn't paid much attention to details the last time, but he actually wanted to know now. From now on their relationship wasn't going to be the same anyway, and that included sex (if there was to be any more, that is). What better time to explore than now, when Neil was unconscious? Besides, wolf or not, it was the human form that was the true Neil.

Jason cuddled closer and, with his right hand, began to scritch Neil gently between his pointy ears. The wolf yawned, groaned, and rolled slightly toward Jason, shifting his legs to give slightly more room. His right hand and arm Jason moved underneath the wolf's head to cushion it. The left hand started petting Neil's head, neck, and left front leg. His heart beat heavily in his chest, and it was all he could do to keep moving at a steady pace. Soon he was making large circular motions through the thick stomach fur, feeling Neil enjoying the attention in his sleep.

Jason was rock-hard almost from the start. He had no idea fur felt that good on his genitals. He lightly ground his hips into Neil's back, spooning him a bit. The hand crept closer...Jason closed his eyes, knowing what was just inches from his fingertips. For a moment he felt like a heel, taking advantage of this creature, but soon retracted the thought as he told himself his lover was inside that fur coat. He pressed down a little further, and felt the lump of skin and fur that was the wolf's sheath.

Both groaned and shifted in the bed. Jason ran his fingers lightly over the lump, down and felt Neil's balls, the only thing different being their fuzzy covering. Jason went back to the sheath, gripping it more firmly this time, and squeezed. He kneaded the skin over the tube inside, exploring the difference between human and lupine. Of course, under all this attention Neil began to harden, and Jason found himself with a growing member and not knowing what to do with it.

He felt back at the tip of the sheath, where the opening had parted and about two inches were out already. Jason pulled the skin back and even more cock was exposed. He saw Neil's knot forming and fully unsheathed his friend before it became too uncomfortable. Incredibly, the wolf was still blissfully sleeping beside him, no doubt having very good dreams.

For the first time Jason got a clear view of Neil's lupine member, and uttered a low moan when he saw it. Completely contrasting with his fur, it was as black as pitch, standing a stiff seven inches from his groin. Jason propped himself up a little on his arm, without moving it from beneath Neil's head, and looked at it throbbing slowly with the sleeping wolf's heartbeat.

He encased it with his hand. Its heat seared his flesh, but felt so good. Slow at first, Jason stroked the member from just in front of the knot to the tip, using his whole fist in the gentle motion. He continued this for several minutes, unconsciously grinding against Neil and nibbling on an ear.

Suddenly, Neil stirred and rolled onto his back, opening his eyes. His paws were pulled up to his chest, and his hind legs splayed wide, allowing his cock plenty of room to lay against the bandages. Jason froze, unable to take his eyes away from the ebony flesh in his hand. Finally he looked at the beautiful face before him, smiling in his half-asleep state. The blue eyes bore into his soul, saying all the things that language alone could not convey. It was a look of assent, the go-ahead to do what was unsaid.

The wolf relaxed in Jason's grasp, laying his head on the human's shoulder. Jason resumed his stroking of the lupine cock, watching for signs of impending climax. Minutes passed, Jason slowly working up his speed, until he had perfected a light, feathery motion between Neil's head and knot. He wanted only to please his love, and soon he was rewarded.

Neil's legs jerked once, twice, and he humped up into Jason's hand as best he could. A few drips of precum dribbled out of him, followed by multiple thick ropes of white. The first hit the underside of the wolf's chin, with nearly seven more in decreasing intensity. The wolfseed was barely visible on his white fur. With a great sigh, Neil went limp and rolled to face Jason, gratitude all over his muzzle.

Jason embraced his mate, not minding the cooling cum between them, coating fur and skin. He buried his face in Neil's shoulder, receiving licks on his own. For the first time, he could smell Neil, really smell him. Inhaling deeply, he knew that, whatever form his boyfriend took, things could never change the love between them. Though he knew Neil was thanking him for his act of love, no words were necessary. For once in their sometimes rough relationship, all seemed right with the world.

"You're welcome," Jason murmured as they both slipped into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

It took only two days for Neil's broken ribs to heal fully. After having the bandages removed, he was more than happy to return to human form, receiving a big hug from Jason and smiles from the rest of the ASL crew. Both men made phone calls back home, getting sick days off from work and consoling concerned family members. There was still one phone call left to make, and Jason's fingers hung over the number keys indecisively.

They sat in Neil's quarters, lying on the bed next to one another, the satellite phone in Jason's hand. It trembled with his fear. There was no telling what they would find on the other end of the line. Neil exuded confidence; just his being there was enough to spur Jason on.

"You know you have to do it sooner or later. You can't just ignore him," said Neil, stroking the top of Jason's hand.

He dialed the number and listened as the connection was made. The call was answered after the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Mike, it's Jason," he said.

"J? Where are you?" said an obviously relieved Mike.

Jason started, surprised at the concerned tone of his brother's voice. "I'm with friends."

"Listen, we need to talk." There was silence on the other end of the line as Jason tried to collect his thoughts. He certainly wasn't prepared for this.

Mike continued before Jason could even respond. "I'm a jerk, you know that? I was sitting on your porch this morning, feeling sorry for myself when it hit me: who would sic his buddies on his own little brother? Who would try to stab one of his friends? And tell me, Jason-why did I hurt you?"

"I don't really know. You were angry."

"But that's, like, the ultimate copout. I don't think I can make up for hurting you, but I can hope you'll forgive me."

Jason thought. He couldn't tell for sure whether Mike was lying or not, but he didn't think so. It wasn't like him to be so submissive in an argument. "Forgiven. But not forgotten."

"Please come home."

"What'll happen when we do?"

"I want to meet him."

"You do? And what if he doesn't meet your standards of, say, being a woman?" Jason asked with venom.

"I said I wanted to meet him. I hope you don't think I'm that stupid, to fly off the handle because of something like that. I think a little bit of Dad came out then. As soon as I had said it, I wanted to take it back. Jason, I don't care who you date as long as you're happy. Yeah, it's a corny line, but would I say corny stuff if I didn't mean it?"

Jason conceded. "Actually, no."

"So you'll come back so we can all have a nice barbeque or something? Like a get-reacquainted party?" The goofball brother Jason knew and loved was back.

"Yes. I don't know how soon, though. We have to tie up a few loose ends here, and-"

Neil jerked up to a sitting position, rigid and staring at the far wall. Jason put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him: What?

Mike began, "You take all the time you want to-" The voice cut off. Jason waited, saying "hello" multiple times, but he couldn't even get a dial tone. He was so engrossed that he didn't realize that Neil was drawing blood where he clutched Jason's hand until the pain was unbearable. Jason ripped his hand away.

"Ow! Damn, that stings!"

Neil looked like he had seen something indescribably horrific. He had gone pale, and his eyes remained unblinking. "Something is very wrong. I just felt it. It was like...like the world had been ripped away from beneath me. Did the phone go dead?"

"Well, yeah, it did."

"I felt that too." His voice was in control and panicky at the same time. "Stay with me, okay?"

"Okay."

Neil strode over to the com panel by the door and pushed the call button. He was put through to Jonathon, who answered in a hurried tone. "Neil, this isn't a good time."

"Tell me what happened."

"I'd rather not worry you."

"Try me."

"Come up to the command center. Bring Jason."

"We're on our way." Neil turned to his friend. "Come on, were going up." It was unusual to see him so direct and in control of a situation. Jason stood and followed Neil at a healthy pace up to the ASL's command center.

The room they entered was in chaos. Computers were running full speed, various officers mulled over sheathes of papers and data, and almost everyone was talking to someone else through headset communicators. Jason thought it funny how there could be so many conversations in one room, and not one person talking to another at the same time.

Jonathon came over and began to describe the situation unbidden. "There was just an underwater seismic event about five hundred miles east of here. The seafloor shifted and a large section sank into the depths. We're guessing there to be more than two thousand feet of difference between the sides of the fault now. So much water was displaced that there is a Tsunami headed this way, at over six hundred miles an hour. The wave could be as high as two hundred feet when it breaks. Most of the complex should be fine, but anything exposed on the northeast side of the island will be washed away. We're trying to evacuate everyone from the lower regions as high as possible."

Neil was unfazed. "What can I do to help?"

"There isn't much you can do. You're safe up here, though." Neil and Jason looked at each other. Jason shrugged, and they moved over to an outside door out of the way of traffic. They didn't speak, but just watched the sea outside, not believing such a wave of destruction was bearing down on them. Time seemed to pass infinitely slowly.

"OH, DEAR GOD!" came a cry from the command center. They recognized it as Jonathon's voice, and they returned to see what was the matter. He was holding his earpiece tight to his head, listening, his face twisted in helplessness.

He turned to Neil, crazy with emotion. "It's Trisha. She said she would be in her quarters, but she decided to go out sailing, to take advantage of the wind. Why didn't she call me? She isn't even at dock yet!" He was as in control as he could be, assessing the situation rationally but still finding no way to reach her in time. She failed to answer calls to her satellite phone, and there was no answer from the sailing vessel she had taken out.

Neil stared intently into space, his brow furrowed in concentration. It wasn't long before he turned to Jason and said, "I'm going. I think I can help."

"Not without me," Jason replied, steadfast. Neil began to counter, but gave up when he saw the equal determination on his boyfriend's face. He smiled a little and said, "Come on." They started to leave, but Jonathon held them back.

"You can't go. It's too dangerous out there."

"What about Trisha? She'll die!"

Jonathon had a momentary thought of letting them go, but realized how self-centered it was and pulled them back. "No, I can't let you sacrifice yourselves for her. I won't have you two die on me!"

"I can help. Trust me," Neil pleaded.

"No. You two stay here."

Neil jerked out of Jonathon's grasp. "Have it your way," he said angrily, and drug Jason out the door. Jonathon yelled something in exasperation at them, but it was lost amid the machines in the room.

They headed for the express elevator to the basement and beach, and soon they stood at the outside door. The sky was a bright blue, but the ocean was restless and gigantic, roused from its sleep by the underwater earthquake. Neil used a passkey this time instead of his powers to unlock the door. It slid open and out they went onto the white sand, Neil shifting to midform for strength.

Only twenty feet from the door the beach was smooth and flat from the breaking waves. Where tons of rocks and fallen cliffs had been to their left, the surge washed over and sent walls of white foam into the air. Jason stared up and out to sea. He could barely see the dock, but there was just the faintest trace of flailing arms above the crest of a wave.

"I can see Trisha!" he yelled over the tumult, pointing so Neil could see. What neither of them expected was the wall of air and water from directly to their left. The storm surge had reached the edge of the cliffs, which were full of holes and hidden caves. With the water this high, waves rushing in through the front were sucked through the network of passages and accelerated out any exit available. The result was a horizontal geyser whose mouth just happened to be right where Neil was standing.

A large wave broke right in front of the cliff, and seconds later wind and water blasted out of the side of the cliff. Jason had run ahead a bit, but Neil was blown off his feet and struck the opposite wall of the rainforest on the other side of the walkway. Not even his lycanthropic strength could save him this time; he was out cold before he slumped to the ground.

Jason turned back, still pointing out to the dock, which was rapidly disintegrating into the restless sea. All he saw was the white werewolf crumpled near the forest and the retreating water. Another blast through the unseen cavern confirmed what had happened to his love.

"Neil!" he screamed, temporarily forgetting Trisha. He rushed over to Neil's body, knelt, and felt his neck for a pulse. It was strong and steady. Jason heaved a sigh of relief, but his stomach dropped again. What would he do without Neil? He couldn't possibly save Trisha without his help; he would never make it to the dock in time, let alone figure out a way to bring her back.

What he needed was Neil...no...what he needed was a werewolf. He wondered...

No time for thinking, and no time for regrets. He pulled Neil from a sitting position until he was lying on his stomach, struggling with the dead weight of the lupine. Breathing hard to stave off any pain, he put his arm between Neil's upper and lower teeth. They scratched his skin lightly, but he wasn't worried about that. He applied pressure to the top of the lupine's muzzle and heaved with all his weight. The pain was terrible, and he bit his lip against yelling out. Leaning back and removing his arm, he looked at the two sets of four neat punctures on the top and bottom of his forearm, and the thin streams of blood running from them.

He was about to wonder whether anything was going to happen when he doubled over on the ground. It wasn't pain, but his insides buzzed with heat and seemed to liquefy and solidify simultaneously. The world blurred. His arms and legs grew longer, larger, his bones creaking and popping as if they were mere cartilage. He screwed his eyes shut; suddenly he was hypersensitive to everything around him. Adrenaline surged through his blood, bile rose in his throat and he vomited reflexively. His clothes fell away as he more than doubled in size. Dizzily he rose to all fours, a little more comfortable now that the sickening sensations had been relieved. Things came into focus, and he grimaced as his new tail finished growing for the first time.

Trisha's screams were audible now, as were the waves, wind, and almost everything else. A barrage of smells assaulted his nose. He sneezed, overwhelmed. Jason stood, wobbly on his new feet, and immediately started to run toward the rising storm surge. Although the world had lost most of its color, he was able to focus all of his attention on Trisha. He covered the two hundred yards to the dock, which had become separated from the beach, in no time. It bobbed at the whim of the waves, and there was no sign of her sailing craft.

Without thinking, Jason leaped through the water and onto the dock. Before he knew it he was standing only feet from Trisha, balancing on the wood planking. He looked back. The distance he had covered in such a short time, and with almost no effort, astounded him. His body was almost bursting with energy he never knew he had. Looking out to sea again, one wave towered above them and grew with each passing second. It was the big one, the Tsunami, horrific in its speed and power. He turned his gaze back to the woman prostrated on the other end of the dock, abject fear on his muzzle.

"Who are you?" asked Trisha, more confused than anything, unaware of the impending doom..

"Jason. We need to get out of here, now."

"Wow, what happened?"

"No time," he said, still getting used to the lower register of his voice. "Come on."

Trisha didn't argue and allowed Jason to sweep her up in his arms, quickly turning on his heels and heading back towards shore. The dock had been swept farther out to sea, so he jumped as far as he could and swam the rest of the way to the beach, fighting a fierce undertow and the ever-growing breakers. He was about ten yards from the sand when the water was literally sucked from beneath him. The wolf, with Trisha over one shoulder, sank and thudded onto sand that had just a moment before been twelve feet deep in water. Trisha stood, and Jason turned to look behind him. The Tsunami was at least 150 feet tall, and the power of its approach to the island had sucked the beach devoid of water far out into the sea.

"Run." Trisha recognized the inevitable when she saw it. When Jason didn't respond, she grabbed the scruff of his neck and said, "RUN!"

The werewolf obeyed, and he half-carried the woman up the beach to where Neil now sat, still a bit stunned but none the worse for wear. He gawked at the werewolf he had never seen before, yet he smelled familiar. He didn't have time to think long, however: the wolf fairly dumped Trisha into his lap and knelt down beside him.

"I can't stop it!" he cried, and at once Neil knew it was Jason. Just how he became a werewolf would have to wait, as he saw the sky disappear behind a gigantic wall of water. Neil looked the other way; the distance back into the corridor was short but there was no time. Besides, it would become a deathtrap when the wave hit.

"Get down," he replied, and the other two obeyed. He only had one trick up his sleeve, but there was no telling how or even if it would work. As Jason and Trisha curled up as best they could, Neil watched the wave approach with rising fear. The beach disappeared, and a fine mist fell on them from the very top of the breaker, already beginning to curl over itself. 100 yards, then 50...30. At twenty yards, he crouched as well and tapped his brain for all the power it could muster. If he succeeded, they would walk away unscathed. If he failed, they would all die, smashed to pieces against the island's coast.

He grabbed Jason's paw-hand and squeezed it, gathering more power when the squeeze was returned. The wave filled his mind and vision. He imagined a circle enclosing the three of them, and let go a massive pulse. It filled, grew, and was in place as he closed his eyes and hoped for the best. Then the world turned turquoise, and the only sound was the sound of water.

* * *

"Do you think they look better over on the mantle, or do you want to hang them up?" asked Neil, positioning the two plaques so Jason could see.

Jason winced a bit and replied, "Do we have to display them? You know how I am about being overly proud."

"But pride is what we're all about. It's what keeps us together, remember? And we have so much to be proud of."

Jason thought for a moment, and had to agree with Neil. The Tsunami had washed over them and Trisha, but Neil's "mind bubble" technique had worked. That's the name he gave it after what he saw when they should have been drowning. Instead, it was like looking up through an aquarium as the deluge went on outside, leaving them untouched. In truth, Neil had created a mental shield which, fortunately, was strong enough to repel the tons of water on top of them.

The three had walked into the command center to a warm reception, Jonathon embracing his wife tightly with tears in his eyes, a rare sight indeed. The complex itself sustained little damages, but much of the lower foliage was swept away and would take years to regrow. It was a small price to pay for the safety of the ASL and its members.

There was a celebration that night, and talk of an awards ceremony marking the two lovers' induction as honorary Dark Knights. They refused a fussy ceremony but accepted the honors humbly. It made them happy to have had such a powerful effect on so many. After an emotional goodbye and promises to visit soon, the pair had been transported back home.

A different Mike welcomed them with open arms, and they had spent the afternoon barbequing, swapping stories, and getting to know one another once again. Mike certainly had changed, and seemed never to run out of questions about either Neil or lycanthropy. They both transformed for him, and the shock was still evident on his face, but he made a point to say he was willing to get used to some changes if Jason and Neil were willing to accept his apology. They were.

Mike had left them, happy and sated, to get used to home again. "Let's put them on the mantel. That way we don't have to hang them and they're not too prominently displayed."

"Always the practical one," Neil rolled his eyes and placed a plaque on each side of the mantel. Jason came up behind him and wrapped his furry arms around his love's waist. They stood in silence for a moment, looking at the polished stars on the plaques shining in the last of the sunset. They both yawned simultaneously.

Jason giggled. "Tired, love?"

"Just a little."

"You know, we never got to finish what we started that night."

Neil turned to face Jason, knowing what he was talking about. "Do you think you're up to it?"

Jason looked down at his crotch and nodded. "I think I'm already up, so to speak." His sheath was full and pulled back slightly from his cock, exposing some of it. Neil thought at that moment it was very inviting. He was getting aroused as well. As werewolves, it seemed that an erection was always waiting around the corner.

"Sure," said Neil, and led him by the paw-hand to the bedroom. He lay Jason down on his back, and climbed in next to him on his side. A set of claws traced patterns in his chestfur. Unlike Neil, Jason was a light chocolate brown, with dark patches on his back and a light beige running from his chin down to the insides of his knees. A patch of dark brown surrounded one eye. Jason mrrrred his pleasure, liking this new body more with each stroke of Neil's paw-hand.

The claws became lighter, flitting up and over his face, muzzle, and forehead, barely touching the fur but just rustling it a bit. Jason's eyes were closed, his concentration on things far away in his mind and body.

Eventually, the paw-hand made its way between his legs and wasted no time in sending Jason to full erection. The brown wolf gasped as his newly-reshapened cock was unsheathed for the first time. He couldn't help but lift his head and look at himself, not quite believing the red member emerging from his body was his own. Or that the beige-tipped tail wagging between his legs was his, either. He raised his hips and let Neil do his work.

And work the white wolf did. His fingers were large and warm, the pads on his paw-hand soft and delicate despite all the hard work he did. He looked at Jason's beautiful, sculpted face, relaxed and blissed out, and stroked away at his cock, watching his expressions.

Jason was almost asleep when Neil took his paw-hand away and straddled him on the bed, his black wolfcock dangling out of his sheath of white. He looked at his love, who came to and slid up a little on his elbows, ready to continue what had been interrupted so long ago but which needed to be completed.

"Are you sure?"

"I love you. Of course I'm sure."

Neil smiled, taking a bottle of lube from a nightstand drawer and putting a liberal amount on one of his fingers. Massaging Jason's tailhole as he lifted himself to meet his finger, he slipped one in, surprised when it sank in to the second knuckle. Jason's eyes widened, but no pain registered on his face. Encouraged, Neil introduced a second finger. The passage was warm, inviting, and seemed alive with the brown wolf's heartbeat.

Jason lay in wait, adjusting to the intrusion in his tailhole, remembering the last time they did this. Then, Neil was so worked up that he had moved a bit too fast, but Jason hadn't shown any pain for fear that Neil wouldn't continue. This time, however, his boyfriend wanted nothing more than to please his love, making sure every move was gentle and deliberate.

Neil removed his claws and grinned when Jason whimpered at the sudden emptiness. It was such a different experience, being able to whimper, merf, and growl one's approval or discomfort. It was a second language between the two of them, and though neither would have liked to admit it, they were both incredibly turned on by each other's fur-covered bodies.

The white wolf put a paw-hand on each side of Jason's chest, bringing their muzzles only inches apart. He jockeyed his hips down and forward between the outstretched legs, finding the entrance to Jason's body and pushing slightly. Looking up, he realized that Jason was smiling, an expression of happiness thinly veiling his trepidation.

The distance between them closed as Neil touched noses with his lover, nipping his lower lip. Jason closed his mouth over Neil's and sealed the kiss. Each took turns feeling with their tongues. Jason's paw-hands ran over the curves of Neil's back, neck, and the base of his tail. If he felt anything when Neil eased into him, he didn't show it. The penetration was easier than he thought, and heat enveloped his member up to the knot.

Neil pulled away, the taste of Jason lingering on his lips and nose. He growled when Jason unexpectedly clenched around him.

"Hello, puppy," he said huskily.

"Hi," replied Jason, as if they had just met, getting used to the feeling. A few drops of sweat fell onto the brown wolf's chest. Neil trembled in anticipation. Realizing how goofy they must look, a couple of first-timers for the second time. He snickered.

"What?" asked Jason.

"Nothing," replied the white wolf, and withdrew most of his cock..

"Oh, hell..." Jason's eyes fluttered and he stared upward. "That's much different.."

"Better?"

"Better."

Satisfied that Jason was okay, Neil thrust again. Jason's mouth opened, but nothing came out. It felt so good; he was in control and he had time to think and feel what was happening to his body. Neil wanted to please Jason even more, and he adjusted his stance slightly and sped up his thrusts.

Jason couldn't think straight; this was so much better than their first attempt. Everything had changed. He stroked his chest, and felt wetness there. Glancing downward, he saw a small puddle of pre in his navel. The amount of it was amazing; apparently, werewolves leaked more readily than humans. He put a bit on his finger and smeared it on his own lupine member, and began a stroking motion of his own.

Now, Neil was into a rhythm, humping faster as his pleasure increased. The walls of Jason's ass were tight around his length. It was easily the hottest thing he had ever experienced. He reached a higher plateau and sped up again, his consciousness failing to waves of pleasure. Jason lay silent beneath him, pawing away at himself and feeling warm all over.

The brown wolf hardly noticed his climax before it hit him full on; Neil drove himself into Jason's prostate a couple of times to send him over forcefully. He arched his back and buried his head into the pillow. Just like he had done to Neil a few nights before, his chin was suddenly wet. His cock was so sensitive to touch that he had to stop stroking, leaving him to coat his chest in wolfseed unaided. He moaned from somewhere deep inside of himself, and drooled onto his own neck.

Neil felt Jason's tremendous orgasm and the resulting spasms of his tailhole. Deciding that now was a good time to finish himself as well, he took advantage of his lover's post-coital relaxation and applied constant pressure until the passage gave way to his swelling knot. He panted loudly into the night air. Jason, having recovered partway, put his paw-hands on Neil's shoulders to stop him. Reluctantly, the white wolf complied and cocked his head questioningly.

Jason whispered, "I want you to mark me, Neil. Do it properly."

"Okay." Neil leaned back, pulling Jason a bit since they were now tied together. The brown wolf turned himself onto all fours, listening as his rotation made Neil shudder. As soon as he was in position, his lover covered his back and began to hump once again. Neil found it much easier this way, and he felt himself rapidly losing what control he had left.

Jason supported them both on his arms and legs, feeling like a true player in their relationship for the first time. He was hard again, but he didn't bother to stroke himself. Instead, he clenched in all the right places, trying his level best to give Neil what he deserved after all this time. The lupine above him pulled his tail over his back, wanting nothing more than to claim Jason as his forever, in true canine tradition.

Neil grasped Jason's thighs, searching for the deepest part of his mate. Jason matched him, thrust for thrust. The lupine gave two jerky movements and froze, trembling. A howl came out as a high-pitched whine through his gritted teeth. Spurts of hot cum flooded Jason's waiting passage, filling him with Neil's essence.

After several moments of intense ecstasy and concentration, the white wolf released his death grip on Jason and pulled to one side, both lupines falling onto the much-wrinkled bedclothes. Jason was still oddly silent, preferring the fullness of Neil inside him to any conversation. Finally he turned his head to the left to whisper into Jason's ear.

"I think that made up for last time, don't you?"

Neil snuggled closer to his lover, relishing the last of the afterglow. "It's just like you to ruin a romantic moment with humor, isn't it?"

"It's my job. You'd better get used to it."

"For you, love...anything."

Glad to be in their own bed, in their own home, and finally together in more ways than either could have imagined, it didn't take long for them to fall asleep, in each other's arms, dreaming the dreams of those who have had theirs come true.

FIN

3/10-7/6/04