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The Red Pack

The lonely motel room was grey and dim due to the rain outside. The one window, the paint of its sill cracked, seemed to barely keep out the pattering rain. One bed sat in the tiny room, perfectly made despite the holes in the carpet, and the black spots in the ceiling corner. Those were definitely mold. The creaky, old door rattled and swung open, vibrating on its hinges. In stepped a man, shaking off his plain black umbrella. Most of the man’s attire could be described as plain and black: his pressed suit, his glossy shoes, his sunglasses, his suitcase, even his slicked back hair, short, and damp from the rain. The first think he did was lock the door behind him. Next: he took a little metal clamp from his pocket. It fit perfectly in the crease of the door. Once expanded, it held the door in place. Not perfect, but it would make it harder to break down. There was no urgency or fear in his movements, or face.

He stopped in the dingy closet of a bathroom to fetch a hand towel, then sat on the edge of the bed, setting his suitcase down beside him. The towel was put to work patting his face dry after removing his sunglasses. His skin was pale. Strangely pale. The occasional person would ask if he was sick, but most knew better than to ask questions they didn’t want the answer to. His eyes were dark brown, and most of the time, carried a look of calm determination.

After patting dry, the suitcase was opened with a practiced double flick from his thumbs. This was his working case. He didn’t usually need anything more when out in the field. Each item was kept in its own place by a perfectly shaped cut-out in the soft foam interior. First was his pistol, and its magazine, the bullets bearing tips of polished metal. Those who knew guns might think that strange, but not he. Though if he was perfectly content to not have to use it for its intended purpose. If it came to that, he’d just need to hope things were set in his favor. This was no big-game rifle. Next to it was a vial of black jelly. It was his emergency medicine. There was a time he didn’t like how it made him feel, but he was almost used to it by now. Almost. A magnetized ID card, rimmed in steel, barely made a dent in the foam. His picture was on it, taken only a year ago, and dressed about the same as he was now. Benjamin Thatcher, Good House International Paper Company. Lastly was his earpiece. The spiral of clear polymer was made to wind down into the neck of his coat to the rest of the device: a tiny, flat metal box meant to be taped to his chest. It was this he took out and equipped first. It required no tuning. Just one little button on the side of the earbud needed to be pushed. After sitting in silence apart from the pelt of the rain on the window for a few moments, a monotone voice came through.

“Biometrics confirmed. State clearance code.”

“Woodlouse 860, reporting from Alberta, Canada.” He responded in a hushed, but cool tone.

“Accepted. Progress report?”

“The forest is prime for harvest. Local resistance to a logging operation is present, but manageable.”

“Lupines?”

“None sighted, but I have confirmed a healthy wolf population unusually close to the town. After speaking with the locals, and hearing everything from bigfoot sightings, to unusual bear attacks, I believe there must be a small pack deep in the woods.”

“This is your deduction, but you have no physical evidence… If present, those Lupines MUST be terminated before operations can progress. You are a lone Agent. Do not expose yourself. Confirm the Lupines and their prime locations, and report in. We will arrange backup should you require it. Should you fail to check in daily, we will assume your deduction is correct. What is your current strategy?”

“I’ve detected no Lupine spawn among the human population, which is odd. It means I can’t use that against them, but we have other ways. Since it’s clear they are not used to dealing with much human activity, they should be easy to bait with a little corruption. I’ll get the evidence you need.”

“This will do, if successful. You know the price of failure, on our side, or the Lupines.”

“I understand.”

Nothing else needed to be said. After only a moment of silence, the line was dropped. Ben replaced the earpiece, and closed his working case with a soft click.

The rain had stopped by the next afternoon, though the dampness had not gone from the soil, nor had the sky fully cleared. Mr. Thatcher was nearly unrecognizable from how he looked the night before. He wore the dull work boots, thick jeans, and camo jacket of a hunter. The items that used to be contained in his working case were now all at his belt. He wasn’t an expert tracker, but he’d know a wolf print, or the telltale signs of something bigger moving though the brush when he saw it.

He’d hiked over three hours into these soggy woods. Most of the trees were spruce, growing long and thin, coating the ground in old, dead needles. He would have thought such ground would show a running wolf, or anything worse, fairly well. When he finally stumbled on what he was looking for, it was clear it was the latter. Long dragging claw marks churned the needles and even the ground beneath. It was a quadrupedal gait, but the front marks were longer and hooking, which the back ones were narrow kicks. Lupines, no doubt, and running fast. Here was as good a place as any to lay the bait. He dared not follow those tracks any deeper than he’d already gone. Perhaps he was already too close. He had his knowledge, wits, and his pistol, but luck would still need to be on his side to escape if they knew he was here.

Squatting down at the base of a nearby tree, Mr. Thatcher took the small vial from his belt. The black jelly inside slid out with discomforting ease, like slick oil. It spattered on the roots, leaving dark stains, and a rising, rotting smell. The smell wasn’t so bad to Mr. Thatcher. He’d been exposed to much filthier things in his line of work. To a Lupine nose, this would be more than obvious, and he couldn’t guarantee some of it didn’t rub off on himself, even if he couldn’t smell it. This smell would drive them mad.

There was one more thing to set up. On a different tree nearby, he set up a small trail camera that would send him a notification anytime there was movement. Even if he didn’t get good footage from it, he could come back in a day or two and check the area again. A few photos of the Lupine traces left after they investigated the tree might be enough for his superiors.

After securing the camera, he stepped back into it’s view to test it. Beep. A soft, simple notification from his phone. Beep. Every few seconds, it would beep again if the movement was still there, letting him know how active the area was. He brought up the video feed, and saw himself staring at the screen of his phone in good quality and detail. Sometimes video became grainy or even unusable in the presence of Lupines, but only sometimes.

He could still smell the corruption he’s spilt on the tree roots, even from here. If he could, it had to be carrying on the gentle breeze. It was best to leave. Even the daylight was no promise of safety.

It had only been a half hour since he started back toward town. It would be another two before he saw any signs of civilization. He had to be honest with himself. Hiking out here wasn’t easy. He’d be tired by the time he got back. Currently, he was picking his way down a slope, using the trees to help prevent slipping down the damp bed of needles.

Beep. His breath caught mid-step. He stopped next to a tree almost down the slope and dug out his phone. Any movement would trip the notification. It doesn’t have to be a..

On screen, a large black wolf, its mane tinged with ends of dark grey, sniffed around the corrupted tree. Its teeth were pulled back in a murderous snarl. Its eyes were wide and determined. A jagged scar prevented fur growth from under its eye all the way down its neck. Suddenly it stopped, its breath heaving. Ben watched in horror as the beast let out a ragged scream, not a howl. It rose up on its hind legs, its muscles rippling, its size doubling, tripling.

That was all he needed to see. Mr. Thatcher’s boots slipped down the rest of the slope, causing him to tumble. His heart pounded, making him scrape himself up and keep running. The beast was a half hour walk behind him, but that wasn’t all that far considering what he was up against. He’d be lucky to get halfway back before he was tracked down. What to do? What to do? The woods were a prison.

Beep.

“I KNOW. Fuck!” He kept running, tiring himself out quickly. The beast would not tire. Its steps were three times as long as his. Its nose could pick up his scent effortlessly. For all the good it would do him, he tried to calculate how long he had.

“Ten minutes.” He panted to himself, winded. “Maximum.”

Beep. Either the beast was still there, or there were more. If it was still there, maybe he had a chance. A trickling stream ran down a rocky hillside and along the pathless spruce labyrinth. At its edge, he stopped to catch his breath and think. Running wasn’t going to get him away. He needed to push odds in his favor somehow. Anything. Anything.

Beep. His shaking hands pulled his phone out again. The video feed was black. No, not quite black. On the edge of the screen was a cluster of pine needles. The camera was face down on the forest floor. That sealed it. They knew. They were coming.

“Eight minutes… Maximum.” Escape was no longer an option. Even the silver bullets in his gun would only be lethal if he had the good positioning and aim to land more than a couple shots before it was on him. He’d never done that before, and if there was more than one, it wouldn’t help him if he did.

After a pause to think, he stripped off his belt. It still had all his important gear on it. He let it dangle there in front of him while he considered if what he was about to do made sense. In another seven minutes, very little would matter. He hauled back and threw it down the creek. It spun in the air, and landed with a thudding splash in a deeper pool.

Shoes and all, he waded into the creek. The water was icy, and his clothes were rapidly soaked though. Clothes were heavy when wet, and they created resistance against the flow of the water. Thankfully this wasn’t a river, and wasn’t moving too fast. He was already tired from the hike in, and the run, or maybe it was his fear that sapped his muscles. His mouth opened to suck in air, partly from the shock of the cold, and partly to prepare himself for a short dive. On purpose, he dipped his head bellow the water. As soon as it closed around his ears, he burst up again. He couldn’t take the cold, but he had done what he needed to. He was wet from head to foot.

His feet, still in shoes, touched the pebbles of the opposite bank. Legs staggering from the cold, he climbed out of the water, his clothes sopping. This might muffle his scent, he thought, though he didn’t know by how much. It wasn’t to escape. It was just to smell a little less like the kinds of things that make Lupines angry. Besides, he had to look like he was still running away. If they could smell fear, they wouldn’t be disappointed either way.

“Five minutes, maybe.” He whispered to himself. Almost in answer, a howl sounded from the direction he came. He knew they were coming, but that didn’t stop his head from snapping in that direction, or his eyes from widening. It must have come from the opposite base of the hill he slid down. It would be in line of sight before he knew it.

But then another howl came. This one made him stop dead and fall to his knees. It was on the other side of him, practically where he was just running towards, and twice as close. He didn’t have minutes. He had seconds.

He dug his fingers into the soil and went on his belly. Dragging himself along the ground might mask his scent a little more. It was worth a shot. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t doing it because of how afraid he was, even though his heart was in his throat. He wasn’t crawling long before he could hear thrashing footfalls coming nearer.

Three gravely, sharp barks, louder than any dog he’d ever heard, broke the silence of the woods. The scrape of the beast’s paws approached so rapidly Ben hardly had any time to think about his impending fate. Would it just bite his throat out and be done with it? Should he do anything in the last moment? He hadn’t even looked at the thing.

He spun on his back and saw it. It was a huge wolf on all fours, up to his chest at the shoulder. Its fur was an amber fade to darker paws and tail. Its eyes were bulging with hatred, and it would cross the distance between them in the next two seconds. Ben took a deep breath.

“I’ll tell you everything! Everything!” It was odd to talk to a charging wolf like it could understand you, but he had to try something. The beast growled deep, and leaped.

The wind was crushed out of Ben’s lungs. Two heavy paws pinned him to the forest floor, and a maw of wet teeth was pushed in his face. Its dark lips curled back so far its top gums were visible.

“Lucky.” Ben had heard the stories, but he’d never seen it for himself. Now a Lupine spoke right into his face. “Taint less on you. You speak, yipping pup? Speak up! Maybe not death for you.” He had a chance! He tried to scrape together enough thought to form a sentence. It was more difficult than he imagined.

“Yes. You… You’re right. I’m not tainted. But I know things about it.” His breath was knocked out again by a stamp from the wolf.

“You say things I smell already! Talk more!” Ben coughed, and hopped the wolf wouldn’t grow too impatient while he took a couple gasps to recover.

“Ah. I know what company wants to take all the trees from this land.” The wolf’s eyes widened, and it lunged down at him, clamping its jaws around his throat. Ben tried to keep talking but his words were cut off with a strangled wretch. The wolf picked him up with its teeth, then threw him back down again with a whip of its head. Its teeth scraped against his skin, biting into it in places, and he landed on the dirt with an ungraceful thump.

“The destroyers take THIS FOREST?! All wolf will die first! Metal beasts rip! Men will die!” He was only making it angry. It was easy to do. He needed to give some hard facts to get its interest.

“Ahem. They are… called Good House International Paper Company, but they work for Pentex. We all work for Pentex. I have no backup with me. It’s just me. All I’m doing is scouting the area.” The wolf bristled.

“You poison trees!”

“It was bait. I guess it worked.”

“Pentex know?”

“Not yet, and I threw my communication device away.” The wolf gave him a sidelong look.

“Why do this?”

“If I’m going to be captured, I can at least improve my odds. I can’t go back and tell them this story. They’d treat me no better.” After a thoughtful pause, the wolf flashed what could almost be called a smile.

“Captured? This you are?” A dangerous joy flashed in its eye, and it stepped up to him again. “Is pup captured in Alpha den? No. Pup cry. Pup serve. Pup belong where pup is. You speak with pack. You speak all you know, and then speak more, or you are less than pup. Then you are food.”

“Of course. I’ll-” The wolf barked over him.

“Silent now! You not learn you pup yet. I teach. I am Racing on Smooth Stones. You call me Stone-Racer.”

“I’m-” A paw slammed his chest back down in the dirt.

“Your name Pup! You get no name!” This time his breath didn’t come back to him right away. It was fitting for the position he was in now, laying on his back, mouth open, looking up at the huge wolf. Stone-Racer’s eyes took in the pitiful man under him, clearly considering what to do with him. Ben thought he’d at least not be killed yet. It was agreed he’d be taken to see the rest of the pack, right?

Stone-Racer let a rumble rise deep in his throat. With a sniff, he let his paw up off Ben’s chest.

“You stink still. Like Wyrm-rot and Weaver-poison.” With a single jerk of his head, Stone-Racer ripped off Ben’s right boot and sent it spinning into the brush. “Off!” That was a command, yet Ben hesitated until it was barked again, and teeth clamped on his other boot. His hands worked to free himself from his wet shirt. He remembered that the beast wanted him silent, so he didn’t ask questions. That would only anger it further. He felt a little foolish by the time he got down to his soaked underwear, but Stone-Racer was deadly serious. The wet fabric was all the kept his ass from the dirt and needles of the forest floor. He also considered himself a well-endowed man, and the cling of the dampness made his package obvious even before those fierce eyes made his hesitant thumbs dig in and pull down.

A flicker of the eyes was all Stone-Racer gave Ben’s dick as it jostled loose. He just stood there and let his power over him sink in. Ben felt it more strongly now, even though in theory nothing had changed. He was still just as caught now as he was the moment he was pounced. But sitting here nude like this, feeling the cold of the forest air on his skin, the poke of the needles on his ass, all the things that made Men superior to animals stripped away, it seemed like he was not only caught, but owned.

“Still you stink.” Stone-Racer chuffed. “You start to learn. I see in your eye. But need more.” He turned his flank to him, then raised a back leg. Ben’s heart sank. The wolf’s voice growled before he could think to protest. “Still! No yapping.” Stone-Racer’s lightly furred sheath and balls were exposed as the leg lifted higher. Just the tip of a bright red cock tip poked free. Ben squinted his eyes and held his breath just in time for the first shot of deep yellow piss. It hit his upper chest under pressure, sending flecks into his face. The next hit lower, on his stomach. The fluid ran down quickly between his legs. It was so warm. Hot even. He had to take a breath. The scent of it was bitter and musty like only an animal’s urine could be.

Stone-Racer lowered his leg, turned, and stepped over Ben’s chest, straddling him. From here, the size difference between this and a regular wolf was even more apparent. The width of those paws easily matched his hand with all fingers outstretched. But Stone-Racer’s big chest kept moving over his head as he lay naked, the piss already cooling on his skin. The wolf didn’t stop until his massive sheath dangled in front of his face. The red, pointed cock peeked out a bit further than it did before: a full three inches, which didn’t seem like a lot compared to the scale of the rest of it. The scent of unwashed animal rolled off it, and continued to get more powerful as more cock peeled away. The whole damp-furred package was roughly shoved into his face then, pinning his head down with the force. The cock was hot and slimy, grinding against his forehead. The moist sheath with thick shaggy fur that trapped all scents within it brushed hard into his nose and mouth. And the sack that held the wolf’s two heavy balls hung over his chin and rested on his neck.

Despite his orders to keep silent, Ben couldn’t help but grunt. The effort of drawing air with the stifling pressure on him was enough to draw it out of him, but part of it was something else. It was the total indignity of it. It made his heart beat in his face.

Slowly, Ben realized that it wasn’t just his heartbeat. The texture under that damp sheath went from spongy to firm. The slimy red cock didn’t simply slide against his forehead, it pressed hard, and ground his skull into the dirt. The beast growled and chuffed above him. Never once did he consider using his free hands. He was trapped, even if the beast let him up.

“Rrf… You learn quick. Holding still, whimpering. Alpha will want to have you. He will forgive if I take first…” Stone-Racer shifted back, just a little. His heavy balls slid onto Ben’s piss-slicked chest. His sheath brushed down his mouth, until his cock tip pointed like a weapon right in his face. A faint gloss coated it, and the knot swelling at the base was nearly out. The thing had to be at least a foot long. A bead of precum pushed out of the slit at that exact moment, catching the dim misty light.

“Use hands.” The beast growled. “And tongue. Make me seed.” Ben’s breath caught, and his lips were suddenly dry. After only a few moments of dangerous hesitation, his hands lifted from the cold ground. The fingers of his left hand wrapped around the fluffy base, kneading in to find a grip on the firm flesh underneath. His right hand gingerly touched the middle of the sticky shaft. It throbbed under his touch. The beast was needy, and it reminded him of this by lightly bucking into his grip.

“You are slow! Get working, pup! Use tongue!” The bead of pre grew larger, then rolled down the underside of the red cock when it could no longer support its own weight. Ben had never been with a male, much less a male like this. In truth, he’d rarely had time for such things after his employment began. The company favored a cold attitude, and it demanded much of its agents.

Steeling himself for the taste, Ben dragged his tongue along the underside, gathering up the leaking pre. He barely reached the tip before his gag reflex kicked in. The flavor was sharp and filthy. He turned away and coughed twice, making Stone-Racer growl.

“Your stomach is so weak? Maybe I help.” That massive cock jabbed his cheek and slid across his lips as the beast began to thrust. “Open!” He did, and the slab of meat pushed in. The flavor exploded again, but he couldn’t get away this time. It was deep, threatening to push down his throat. The wolf shifted his paws to get a closer angle, and his intensity picked up.

“Rrr… Better. Keep with hands!” He’d forgotten about those. He returned to caressing and stroking the girthy shaft, its dampness coating his hands. The power of the wolf’s bucking hips flattened his head to the ground again. His jaw ached already, and it was all he could do to suck air through his nose. He gripped the red meat harder. If the wolf came, perhaps this would end. He wanted the wolf to cum. The sense of total defeat that came over him was made ironic when he realized his own cock was rising against his will.

The thrusting came faster and more erratic. Ben could hear huffing breath above him. The red cock stiffened even harder in his mouth, throbbing hard. Precum leaked down his throat. His hands worked with desperation.

“Huurrr. Good pup. Good pup.” The huge wolf whimpered and growled at the same time. His body tensed and shuddered. The throbbing beat hard against the roof of his mouth, and a hot wetness gathered in the back of his throat. With an unexpected jab of animal need, Stone-Racer rammed his seed down, forcing his pup to swallow.

The soaking cock remained in his mouth for several moments afterwards, the beast panting. Without warning, it was pulled back with a wet, sticky sound. Ben swallowed again, and again, trying to get the bitter taste out of his mouth. He lay there on the dirty forest floor, animal urine drying onto him, and his comparatively tiny cock at full attention, as much as he wished it would stop. Stone-Racer glanced at it as he stepped back, but it was only a glance.

“Pup like his place? Good. Learn quick.” There was nothing Ben could say in protest, but he wouldn’t nod, or consent either. He just laid there, catching his breath.

“Up up!” The huge wolf nosed under his shoulder hard. The brute was strong. Just his muzzle was almost enough to take him to his feet, or else send him rolling down the slight incline. He staggered to his feet quickly.

“We go to pack now! Stay close, or eat you. Alpha will know what you know. If your knowing is good, maybe can still be pup after, and not food.”

Stone-Racer lead away on his wide paws, needing to slow considerably to allow the naked and used Ben to keep up. He kept silent for now. He’d be doing a lot of talking when he met the Alpha, it seemed. He needed to use this time to think on what he’d say. He had managed to keep alive so far. It’s longer than he would have thought, given the stories he’d heard of Lupines. Pentex wouldn’t take him back now, even if he escaped and made a full report. Another layer of defeat.

His bare feet remained unsteady most of the way, and it was only partially due to fatigue, and how the needles pricked his soles. He had never felt so degraded. At least his cock had finally gone down.

After what couldn’t have been any less than three hours of cold march, with Stone-Racer occasionally complaining, they came upon a dense hollow of undergrowth. The trees here were older and thicker. The canopy blocked most of the light from the lowering sun. The tang of animal was heavy in the air. As soon as they approached the thickest of brambles, the undergrowth shifted only a few yards in front of them. Rearing up on two legs was another Lupine. His fur was black as the night behind him, but even by his silhouette he had to be at least 9 feet tall.

Ben stood frozen in fear and watched Stone-Racer approach. Even he was apprehensive. His ears folded down, and he growled and chuffed in a way that might be communication. The giant man-wolf snarled back, then turned his attention back to Ben. His dark red eyes shone.

“You spy for our enemies… You attempt to spread corruption in our forest… and this wolf REWARDS YOU FOR IT!?” Ben’s whole body spasmed at the sound of the roaring monster. Fear sent him to the ground. His skin crawled with how much more articulate this one was. It was Stone-Racer who spoke first.

“Man-pup broken. Knows things. Great Alpha can-”

“Oh, he will tell me EVERYTHING! He will squeal like a newborn. Lead him in.” The massive silhouette turned and crunched through the undergrowth. Before his third step, he shrank down in size, going back to all-fours, and disappeared. Stone-Racer growled at Ben as if the Alpha’s chastising was his fault, then nudged him forward.

The night had only just begun, and so were Ben’s problems.