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Stan fidgeted in his chair as he waited for the meeting to begin. This issue had always made hime nervous, though he could never trace the source of his anxiety. Righteous anger? Futile hope? Jealousy? Each one swirled inside of him in an uneasy maelstrom.

Finally, Roger called the meeting to order. “You all know why we’re here. The wolves have demanded additional tribute this season. Something about a baby boom thirty years ago. They’ve sent a representative to make their case.”

“Case! What case? They expect us to roll over just because we’re deer. I won’t have it. Fuck them and their tribute.”

There went Angus, right on cue. He always railed against the tribute, regardless of the fact that it was codified in the nation’s constitution and the city charter. Their little council of five had little control over the tribute, other than enforcing practical matters and the rights of the sacrifices.

“There is a movement to rewrite the constitution and do away with the tribute. It’s gaining steam. But opponents are afraid that without the legal boundaries in place now we may end up like that rabbit kingdom in the south.”

They all shivered as Burt, always the voice of reason, set the stage. No one wanted the wolves to have unchecked reign over the populace. Though no one had ever traveled to that rabbit kingdom and returned to verify the rampant rumors.

“The representative is in the hall, blindfolded,” Roger continued, “Hopefully our jaunt around the market district didn’t addle his little predator brain, but I wouldn’t be a leader if I led him straight to our meeting place.”

One of the earliest precautions against manipulation, both internal and external, the council’s meeting spot changed every time and was known only to the current members.

Stan looked around, surprised that Aaron hadn’t spoken up yet. Normally he was one of the first to speak. And loudly at that. But now he was shifting silently in his seat. As Stan stared, Aaron caught his eye and stiffened.

“What is it, Stan? Are you worried? That son of yours is a prime target for this cycle. Didn’t his nubs just come in?” Aaron drawled condescendingly.

Before Stan could answer, there was a knock at the door. Both he and Aaron jumped as the visitor entered without waiting for an acknowledgment.

By wolf standards he was unassuming. Barely six feet tall, with a dusty gray coat, the visitor entered and stood at the end of the table, facing the five councilors.

“Greetings, gentlemen. Forgive me for not waiting. I am Malachi. I am here to present the changes to this year’s tribute.”

Stan shivered as Malachi’s voice, like bourbon over sugar, filled the room. Angus was the first to recover from the sudden intrusion.

“You mean proposed changes!”

“No, these changes will be implemented, gentlemen. As you know, every six months since the founding of Cervenia, all locales of sufficient population have been required to provide tribute in the form of young men to their nearest pack authority. The number of tributes has traditionally been tied to the population from which the tributes will be chosen. That is the total number of deer males aged 15 to 22. However, the agreement also requires that tributes be treated with all due care and respect for their health and well being.”

Malachi paused in the middle of his history lesson and gave them all a toothy, wolfy smile.

“As you may be aware, our pack was quite fruitful about 30 years ago, a generation of which I am a proud member. In order to provide our exceptional young men with the doe boys that they are entitled to, while maintaining a healthy ratio of wolves to boys, we must increase this, and in all likelihood, all of the following tribute quotas accordingly.”

Angus jumped to his feet. “Doe boys! Health! You steal our children, cage them and do unspeakable things to them, before returning them as broken men! It’s criminal is what it is.”

“Please, sir, we take all due care with our doe boys. Some even become trusted members of our families. And no boy is marked outwardly, so that when he is returned, there is no symbol which may keep him apart from his fellow deer. In fact, there could be former doe boys on this very council.”

They all looked around in shock.

“While there are no prohibitions on a former doe boy serving, it would be incredibly unlikely. One of the criteria, in fact the only criteria, is that a boy chosen as tribute must have velvet antlers with three or fewer prongs. While a man may grow additional prongs later in life, it is quite uncommon. Though some tributes could potentially be taken before all their prongs have sprung.”

Burt’s reminder had them all sitting back in relief. No one wanted to be held responsible for some of the things they had said about doe boys in prior meetings. Even Stan had to admit a certain disdain for those deer who would salivate over a wolf’s knot. It wasn’t natural and another reason he had to protect his son from this cycle.

Little Alan’s velvet antlers were so small and cute. Too small, really, with just one prong each. But he was an early bloomer, only sixteen, and Stan was confident that more prongs would grow if only given time.

Stan’s reverie was interrupted as Malachi spoke again.

“While that is true, not all doe boys come to us as tributes. Some end up prostrated through other means. Isn’t that right, Aaron?”

The all turned to see Aaron’s stunned face.

“I don’t….I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aaron stammered, his face paling.

“Oh really? So you didn’t attend a night of revelry at the Watering Buck bar and end up in a Hunt?”

Aaron paled further.

“Normally, the bucks we hunt in that venue are de-racked and kept in service until their antlers grow back. But you begged to keep yours, did you not? And your new Alpha let you once he found out about your role here, isn’t that right, Aaron?”

“No, it’s a lie, it’s all a lie!” Aaron shouted as he sprang to his feet and tried to run around table to the exit.

Just then a large, older wolf, who dwarfed Malachi entered the room, flanked by four others of similar size and age.

“Stop and present, boy,” the lead wolf growled.

Aaron froze and started to shake.

“Please, Kiefer. Please, no,” Aaron begged.

“Present, boy. I won’t say it again,” Kiefer said bluntly.

Still shaking, Aaron slowly undid his trousers and let them fall to the floor, showing everyone the shiny metal cage encasing his penis, a hallmark of all doe boys. As his fellow councilors watched in horror, Aaron got on all fours, turned his rear toward Kiefer and continued until his chest touched the ground and his hands lay flat next to his face as tears rolled from his eyes.

Stan was silent with the others as Kiefer walked up to the prone Aaron and stroked the winking, wrinkled hole that was exposed to all of them.

“See, a doe boy can indeed serve on this council. In fact, I think after today, every council member will be quite inclined to feel more sympathy for the doe boy population.”

Malachi’s words shocked all of the councilors, who had been focused on Aaron, who was know whimpering as Kiefer roughly fingered him. They turned and saw the four silent wolves each holding a metal cage and staring straight at them.

“No, no you can’t. This goes against the charter. Against all precedent!” Burt railed against what seemed to be the inevitable future.

“These men have all served our pack well and it has been decided that they each deserve a doe boy. However, they are too old to participate in a Run. But don’t worry, they’ll take good care of each of you, just as we will your young boys. And don’t worry about the charter. I have a feeling it will all work out.”

Malachi laughed and turned to leave as the men advanced upon the scared council members.

Stan caught the eye of one and turned his head immediately. That queasy feeling was back. And he was hard. Harder than he had ever been in his life. And harder than he ever would be again by the looks of it. As he sank to his knees, giving in to his new life without a fight, he saw Angus get shoved roughly into a wall, his wolf manhandling him and ripping his pants off. Burt and Roger were laid out over the table across from each other, their wolves roughly feeling up their bodies. As he slowly lifted his gaze to look at the wolf who would occupy his life, Stan’s second to last thought was of Alan and how he was bound to end up in his father’s place. His final thought was of the nine thick inches of wolf penis that he would soon know better than his own.

Alan looked both ways before darting across the street. The sun was steadily setting and he needed to hurry in order to make it home in time. His father had warned him numerous times since his velvet horns had come in that he must be inside before dark. At the very least he had to be in a group or with an adult. Not even the women’s village he had stayed in until his fourteenth birthday had been as strict. Still Alan was a good kid. He was just a bit rebellious. And the reason for this particular rebellion was Tate Sparks.

Tate Sparks was a god among men as far as Alan was concerned. The most popular boy in their cohort, Tate was three years older than Alan and his velvet antlers had all but hardened. Hardened into a magnificent twelve-pointed rack. Just thinking about it made Alan’s stomach flutter. And Tate had invited Alan over to hang out with his group of bucks. Alan had jumped at the chance.

It had been a medium sized party, with around forty boys. Tate had found some liquor and beer which lubricated the situation. Alan had been surprised that he wasn’t the only young, less popular buck in attendance. It was almost an equal ratio of buff jocks to smaller, less strapping specimens. Alan had taken the opportunity to make some new friends, happy to have less intimidating social targets.

What struck him initially was the fact that each boy he spoke with seemed to have been invited by a different person. Alan had thought it was Tate’s party, but the guest list seemed quite decentralized. Slowly, as the night wore on, the big bucks and their invitees would disappear for a swath of time, only to return with the smaller male blushing furiously and the older one looking smug.

One of Alan’s new friends, Gene, had just been escorted off by his contact when Tate approached Alan.

“Hey, how are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh it’s great. There’s guys from all over the city here. I didn’t know it was possible to know this many people.” Alan gushed just a bit, overwhelmed by Tate’s presence.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a tradition. A few of our old men told us about it and we decided to keep it going.”

“Oh yeah, how fun.”

“You can really only come once though, so I hope you’re enjoying it.”

Alan deflated a bit at that nugget of information. He hadn’t thought that he and Tate would be best friends after tonight, but he had harbored hope of future party invites.

“Oh, that really sucks. I thought maybe we’d see each other more often.”

Tate chuckled and wrapped his well-muscled arm around Alan’s slim shoulders.

“Let me show you something and I’ll tell you why won’t get another invite.”

Not waiting for Alan’s answer, Tate guided him away from the crowd to a secluded room that was dimly lit and full of shadowy corners. As Tate guided him to one such corner, Alan thought he heard a soft wet sound coming from nearby.

Tate guided Alan to a wall and loomed above him so that Alan had to crane his neck to meet Tate’s eyes.

“You know it’s tribute time, right? It’s probably your first; your velvet antlers look pretty fresh.”

Alan scoffed a bit.

“It’s all anyone can talk about, tribute this, tribute that. My dad won’t stop worrying. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets chosen.”

Tate laughed.

“You mean snatched. Those wolves are cunning. Why do you think we’re here partying in the middle of the afternoon? So that you guys will come out without fear.”

“Us guys? What about you? I thought everyone had to be careful?”

“Not everyone. Me? I’d never get chosen. But little guys like you,” Tate reached out and stroked Alan’s diminutive antlers. “Guys like you are just asking to get grabbed by some horny alpha. So, before those wolves get to have all fun, we take a little taste for ourselves.”

Just then a loud moan came from across the room.

“Take it. Take it! That’s a good bitch!”

Alan’s eyes adjusted and he could see a large buck thrusting his erect penis into the mouth of one of the smaller partygoers Alan had met earlier. The other boy couldn’t do anything as the larger one wrapped his hands around his antlers and used his leverage to sheath himself entirely in the boy’s throat. Alan watched as the boy swallowed, shock on face as he turned back to Tate who was also distracted by the scene.

“How was he, JJ?”

“So fucking good. I’ll be mad if the wolves take this one away.”

JJ turned his attention back to the boy whom he had just forced to swallow his load. He withdrew his penis with a wet slurp and held it in front of the boy’s face. The boy hesitated for a moment before he started to lick the slowly softening length. Alan was surprised to find himself hard as a rock.

“See something you like, Alan?”

Tate captured Alan’s attention again, pressing down on the shoulders of the smaller male who had been shocked into submission.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a treat for you right here.”

Alan found himself face to face with the bulge in Tate’s pants. He could smell an overwhelming musk, stronger than his own even when he was taking himself in hand. Alan looked up to see Tate’s smirking face.

“Well go on, get to it.”

Alan paused, stuck in a loop of denial in his head. This could not be happening to him. Not here, at a party, in front of Tate. It wasn’t possible.

After a few seconds, Tate lost his patience and pulled his pants down, freeing a healthy seven inch member. A drop of precum beaded on its tip. The scent that Alan thought was overpowering earlier increased in potency, making his head spin. Before he realized what he was doing, his tongue was making contact with that perfect pearlescent bead.

Taste exploded on Alan’s tongue. Slightly bitter, salty, and a tiny bit sweet. Alan was addicted instantly. He began to lick up and down Tate’s shaft, hoping to coax out more of that delectable nectar.

Tate smiled down as his pick for the Bucks and Boys Party went to town on him. He could tell the wolves would have a field day with Alan, but he would always be his first. At least that was the point of the party as his father had explained. For the true bucks to sample the mouths of their lesser brethren. A way for the herd to maintain some level of primacy over the wolves. Though Tate doubted if he was indeed Alan’s first, especially as the eager boy took his dick into his mouth unprompted.

Meanwhile, Alan was in heaven on his knees servicing a true man. He worked to take Tate’s dick further into his mouth, savoring the precum that seemed to pour out with each suck. Not even his gag reflex was enough to stop him. Like a man possessed, Alan grabbed Tate’s thick thighs and forced himself down the shaft until his lips touched the base.

“Damn, boy, you’re really hungry for it, huh?”

Tate’s words shook Alan out of his reverie. All his prior finesse flew out the window and he began to choke and pull himself off of Tate’s dick. A hand on his head quickly stopped him.

“Now, now, none of that. Just relax and do what you were doing. You’re a natural.”

At Tate’s encouragement, Alan started to fall back into his zen state. Sucking Tate deep and swallowing, before easing off and sucking gently at the head. In the back of his mind he thought he heard the wet sounds of another boy being introduced to his place, but nothing distracted Alan from his new goal - Tate’s cum.

Time lost its meaning as Alan sucked and slurped on Tate’s dick. When Tate stiffened, body and penis both, it caught Alan by surprise. That and the thick load of semen that rushed out and down his throat. Alan gulped and gulped, barely tasting the fluid as it rushed directly to his stomach.

Halfway through his explosive orgasm, Tate pulled back and Alan was hit full force with the flavor of the older buck. Stronger than the precum he had been seduced by, this was the true essence of a man. Alan loved it, savoring every drop. A bit leaked out around his lips, matting the fur there.

When it was all finished, Tate stepped back and fixed his clothing. Looking down at Alan, the older boy laughed softly.

“Looks like you enjoyed that.”

It was only then that Alan realized he had come in his pants without touching his dick once. He stood shyly, licking his chops, chasing the last remnants of Tate’s gift.

“Umm…” Alan started to speak, but Tate turned and started to walk out. Alan scurried after him.

The sun hung low in the sky as they rejoined the party. Alan saw Gene, his new friend from earlier, standing with a large buck, tucked safely under the man’s arm. Their eyes met and they both blushed before looking away.

“They’re gonna have a field day with you, buddy,” Tate said as he poured himself another drink. “You probably want to hurry home to be safe.”

“What about everyone else?”

“Oh, they might get escorts if they were good enough, or well-liked enough. But some of them…” Tate paused dramatically, “Won’t.”

Alan’s eyes widened.

“I would, but a host can’t abandon his party. So hurry along little doe boy. And don’t get snatched.” Tate laughed and walked away, as Alan stood there still trying to reconcile how much his life had just changed.

Alan stopped his trek home to readjust himself. Just thinking about the party was enough to make him hard again. Luckily he was only a few streets away from his house and safety. And privacy.

A squirrel rushed out of a bush in front of him and Alan jumped. Before he could chastise himself for being so shaken, he heard a low growl and everything went black.

Ivar controlled his breathing as he stalked his prey from the bushes. This hunt was important. It was his last chance to prove himself. His chance to show those privileged fucks with well brushed coats and lacquered claws that he was just as worthy as they were.

Snap.

Fuck. Ivar went still as death as the sound echoed out across the quiet street. His prey stopped; Ivar could see ears swiveling anxiously. Hopefully, he wouldn’t run. Ivar would win in a chase, but the damage would be unpredictable. And this had to be perfect.

Ivar had just turned twenty-nine, which was late for a male to attend a doe hunt, almost old enough to be disqualified. It was especially unusual for one with a record like Ivar’s. Even at 18, he had been large, 6’5”, with a well muscled frame, making it easy for him to earn a name for himself in the lupine armies. After a few years on the Husky Front, he had been awarded a spot in a hunt, as part of a trio. A trio. Ivar didn’t want to share some broken in slut with two other men. He wanted a doe boy for himself.

Ever since he was a young boy he had dreamt of a soft, submissive little deer to call his own. His own father had never been selected to participate in a doe hunt. A fact which the old man had taken less than graciously. When he was drunk, he would rant and rave about the injustice of the system. How hard working wolves were passed over in favor of the pampered sons of the elite who wouldn’t know what to do with a knot if a hole was gaping in front of them.

Though his father never had a doe boy to call his own, he frequented brothels that had them as courtesans and whores. It was these creatures that Ivar had learned to covet. He remembered one such man, who, upon seeing Ivar standing out in the rain waiting for his father to return from one of his colleague’s beds, brought the young boy out of the elements and fixed him some tea.

That bit of warmth and kindness had stayed with Ivar, becoming an obsession. The smell of that man, warm and comforting, with an undercurrent of masculine sex, that was what Ivar wanted his home to smell like, and he would have that soon. A doe boy of his own.

His prey slowly settled, continuing to walk down the road. The sun was slowly setting, but it wasn’t quite dark yet. A quiet gloom settled over the area as Ivar crept ever closer to his unsuspecting target.

Just then a squirrel jumped out of a bush, startling Ivar and the deer boy in front of him. Ivar sucked in a deep breath before letting it go in a low growl. It was now or never. He took the black sack from his belt and leapt at his target before the boy could turn around.

The sack covered the deer’s head and torso down to his elbows, limited his range of motion. Ivar tightened the ropes around the mouth of the sack, imprisoning the boy. As he lifted the prone body over his shoulder, the boy began to kick and scream. Expecting this, Ivar glanced around quickly to ensure there were no witnesses before spanking the boy hard on his plump little ass.

The deer choked in shock and stopped screaming for a moment. One of the veterans he was close to had told Ivar that spanking a tribute during abduction was a great way to silence them quickly. Something about the shock of pain and the embarrassment made them quiet. He took advantage of the stunned boy’s short circuit to take off into the underbrush. He had to get to back to the group and out of town without being caught. If he was caught then his perfect capture would be null and void.

This was the groups’s third and final sacrifice. The other wolves had already bagged their tributes. He had argued long and hard for the ability to make this grab on his own. A success would put him at the top of this hunt’s leaderboard on par with those pampered son’s of bitches who waltzed around with their tails in the sky. A failure would make him a laughing stock; failure meant that he was gutter trash no matter how many medals he’d earned. Not to mention the fact that it might encourage one of the others to challenge him for his solo slot.

As he bounded through underbrush and darted across darkening streets, Ivar thought about the first two hunts with this pack. The group was composed of one trio, one duo and him. They had been partnered randomly, tasked with returning with three suitable tributes. All under the watchful eye of a seasoned elder. They would get points for the suitability of the tribute and their condition when turned in. Each team was to lead a hunt, and they would be graded by the elder. The others were supposed to follow and help, like a real pack. Building camaraderie that would be discarded like the quivering boy’s clothing during the real hunt.

The group’s first two retrievals had been satisfactory. The first boy they had tailed and taken together, each man coming from a different direction to corral the boy and lead him close to their cart with little fuss. Unfortunately, that boy’s velvet horns were right at the cusp of what was acceptable, making him a less valuable target. The second deer’s horns had been small and adorable, however one of Ivar’s compatriots had scratched the boy during the chase. It wasn’t a large injury, but it was enough to lower their score. It was the reason Ivar had argued so vehemently to undertake this last mission on his own. A solo hunt would solidify his prowess amongst the others and earn a hefty bit of standing with the elder.

And he had been right to do so. After he had caught wind of the delectable morsel across his shoulder, he knew he had to have him. Ivar could smell the seed of another man drifting from the boy as he followed him. But even stronger than that was the smell of something sweet and tangy. The seed of a doe boy. The smell from the brothel. This little nymph had cum all over himself somehow and it intoxicated Ivar. So much so, that he had almost messed up the hunt all on his own.

Now he was back in control and nothing could stop him from his final goal.

As Ivar crossed into the clearing where the rest of his party waited, he finally relaxed. His cargo had been quiet for most of the journey there, which, admittedly, had been fairly brief. It wouldn’t do to cart a screaming teen across the entire city. However, this teen hadn’t screamed much after his first attempt. That might have to do with Ivar’s hand getting a bit liberal with the spanking.

Ivar couldn’t help it. The plump ass right near his face just begged to be touched and fondled and ravished. It was only his score and the knowledge that he would be fully disqualified from the final hunt that kept him from fucking the squirming boy in some back alley. But now that he was with the group, and their monitor, a bit more fun could be had.

“Nice work, Ivar,” Monitor Wendig said. “Load him into the cart and let’s be off.”

Ivar placed the boy in the cart and sat beside him as two of his teammates mushed the oxen into motion. Monitor Wendig sat beside Ivar and looked down at the trembling sacrifice, while the other men walked along outside the cart.

“Feel free to do the honors.” Monitor Wendig gestured at the body.

Ivar didn’t need another invitation. He flexed his claws and began carefully cutting away the boy’s clothes. Pants fell in taters, revealing skinny ankles and soft shapely thighs. Ivars fingers lightly caressing as he removed shredded fabric. Ivar was surprised to find the boy’s small penis hard, and the deer squeezed his thighs together in shame as Ivar growled and Monitor Wendig reached and turned the boy onto his back, fully exposing him.

“Well, it’s probably no question that he will get you full points, but let’s continue the exam, shall we?”

Ivar continued to denude the boy, slowly inching up the bag, leaving the deer’s face covered as his body was bared to the wolves. Monitor Wendig shifted and turned the boy this way and that, examining him for any injuries, and teasing the captive deer at the same time. A sharp moan was coaxed out by a quick pinch of a nipple. A scared whimper as his plump cheeks were parted and his pink hole exposed to the elements and hungry gazes.

Ivar was hard in his pants as he watched the boy’s examination. This was his reward for doing it solo, a front row seat to the show. Normally monitors did their examinations in private. It seemed Monitor Wendig and the boy were enjoying it was well, though their erections paled in comparison to Ivar’s, which only made him harder.

Finally, it was over and Monitor Wendig turned to Ivar.

“Full marks, Ivar. Well, so long as he passes the final test.”

And with that, the monitor removed the hood, exposing the deer’s face for the first time. Tears poured down from gorgeous light brown eyes that blinked, trying to adjust to the new dark.

“Beautiful. You’ve done well, Ivar,” Monitor Wendig said as he stroked the small velvet horns that proved the boy was eligible as a sacrifice.

As Ivar looked down at the deer that he now knew he wanted to be his doe boy, all he could do was nod and agree.