The Turning: A Lycanthropic Erotica
I dance to the drums of running paws, I taste the nectar of bloody flesh, I sing the ancient song to the skies. I run. I hunt. It was not always so....
This was it. I never really realized that it was until the plane touched down on the small landing strip, but it was real. I was here where it all started. Venice, California. The infamous "muscle beach."
I had come like a pilgrim to pay tribute to the place that had birthed so many of the great bodybuilders. Names which stood out like giants above all others. Icons. Living gods. I had come alone, as pilgrims always do, meeting other pilgrims on the way. Even in the plane, I spotted three guys I knew from their size had to be bodybuilders like me. I wondered if any of them competed. I'd never even seen a pose-down on stage. Of course I was too chicken-shit to go up to any of them and shake their hand, let alone tell them what I really wanted.
I stepped off the plane in my sleeveless shirt and shorts, into the golden light of a California sunset. The weather was, of course, perfect. A light breeze blew off the ocean, caressing my skin and raising the blonde hairs on my arms. The terminal was tiny, especially after the madness of LAX. I went into the bathroom, took a piss, slicked back my harvest wheat hair in the mirror. When I reentered the lobby and collected my luggage, my driver was there to take me to the hotel.
I'd chosen a relatively cheap hotel, which in Venice is still a pretty pinch out of your pocket compared to the hotels in the Midwest. It was made to look like one of those adobe Mexican villas, with healthy green palms and blooming flowers. Fountains and painted frescos, the obligatory pool.
I'd missed the hotel dinner hour, so I got some sandwiches from a gas station across the street and ate them in my room. Then I stripped off my clothes and stood in front of the bathroom's full-length mirror.
To most people, I was an Adonis. Crew cut hair, one ear pierced with a small silver earring. I was 165 pounds, and through hardcore discipline in the kitchen, I'd managed to keep my body fat down to between eight and ten percent. I had a decent start on a six pack, nice balanced pecs. I was never satisfied with my arms. I started bodybuilding five years ago, bulking up from a scrawny 135 pounds. I have thin bones, which means that the muscle I do have tends to be small and hard, more like a runner than the classic bodybuilder. That doesn't matter so much when it comes to legs and pecs, and actually helps in getting abs, but arms are another story. Other than impressive shoulders, my arms were still baskeball player size. I had started as a skinny bastard, and I still saw a skinny bastard pretending to pose in the mirror, with his silver earring and silver wolf pendant glittering around his neck.
If someone had asked me why I had that pendant, I couldn't really tell them. I just....liked it. I'd liked it ever since I saw it in the tiny Native American goods store in Minnesota. The guy who'd rung it up for me was near six feet, crow black ponytail, and he glanced from it to my face with the most intense eyes I've ever seen. The store only accepted cash. On the way out, he'd wished me good luck. Weird guy. Weird place. Northern Minnesota feels like you're on the edge of the world, and California couldn't have been more different.
It was warm, for one. It was sunny for another. There was a vibrancy, a pulse to it that I picked up on immediately over the next few days. I've always been good at that: pickup up rhythms, paces, beats. Should've been a drummer. Maybe I still will, depending on how my....training goes.
I didn't fool around. After breakfast, I hit the beach. Yeah. You know what? "Muscle Beach" is like most other beaches in California. Gorgeous white sand. Tanned girls, shirtless fat guys, college jocks playing volleyball. But it is Muscle Beach. And there were bodybuilders there.
The first guy I saw had skin like dark choclate. He was wading through the surf, and my eyes feasted. Those thighs, rippling with muscle as he walked. A REAL six pack, thick and defined. Pecs that made me drool behind my teeth, with arms that have what I call the "full" look. There comes a point in bodybuilding when your muscle starts to stretch the skin, making look so tight it might burst. He had that, especially on those arms. And these were the arms I'd dreamed of for so long. Shoulders so thick you could grip them with your hand, biceps and triceps that swelled thick instead of staying frustratingly tapered like my own. And obliques. This guy actually had obliques. He caught me staring. My heart jolted, and I immediately became intensely interested in the sand as I blushed.
'Idiot!' I slapped myself mentally.
Yeah...the hazard with being attracted to my kind of guys is that, if they're not gay, they can beat the shit out of you for assuming they are. I was lucky this time. He said something that made his girlfriend laugh, probably at my expense, and they moved on.
I couldn't stay on that beach. I went back to the hotel after a lonely lunch and stared at the carpet. I wiped stray tears out of my eyes. I didn't even know why I was crying. Voices in my head, voices from high school and college whipped me.
'You're skinny.'
'Liftin' some weights there, little guy?'
Laughter from guys in the gym locker room when I finally told them I was a bodybuilder.
'Maybe I should just take in the sights and get the hell out of here,' I thought miserably. I fished the brochure out of my suitcase and looked at the grinning, flexing, oiled young men on the cover.
"WHO WILL BE THE NEXT KING OF MUSCLE BEACH?: First-Time Professional Bodybuilders of California" it read. The date was tomorrow. I didn't watch TV. But I set my alarm and called a taxi in time to make it to the stadium.
In Venice, there are three holy sites for bodybuilders - Muscle Beach, the first Gold's Gym, and the stadium for contests. It wasn't the mecca that the Mr. Olympia contest was, but it was still packed like an Indian bazaar. I was literally wading in a sea of humanity.
Contrary to what you might think, it's not all buff jocks and skinny surfer chicks who go to these things. There were men and women of every age and shape, from enthusiastic five-year-olds to old men with rough farmer's laughter, to guys with beer guts. Don't get me wrong, there was plenty of muscular scenery.
I admired some guys from a discrete distance as they compared biceps to each other. I avoided other ones so I was engulfed in a wave of shame. This was the biggest crowd I'd ever been in, but I felt alone.
I picked up a couple articles and pens. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, and I hurried with the tide of people to the stadium itself. I'd paid top dollar for a reserved seat in the second row.
It was like going to a film by yourself. I waited forty-five minutes in my cushioned chair before the lights dimmed and the announcer's voice came on. The lights rose and they strode on stage. The princes of muscledom. The heirs to the legacy of the IFBB. The future Mr. World's and Olympia's. I was surprised. They weren't all wide-shouldered Greek statues. Some of them looked like they'd started with physiques like mine. They didn't look even close to me, now.
The first phase of the contest was a general, free pose-down where all the contestants got to show off while the announcer read their names. A few stuck with me.
Morgon Bron had an eight pack. He was the only guy on stage who could boast that he HAD an eight pack. His biceps were twice as big as mine. I know, because the announcer read his stats. 180 pounds. He was 23. Tight black thong. But it wasn't the obvious eye-popping muscle feat of his body that really caught my breath. It was his hair. He had a mane of rich, thick black hair that hung down to his traps, swirling just under his ears. I had never seen a haircut like it. It was a mullet at first glance - one of those where the hair near the top of the head is cut short, and gets progressively longer as it descends. But not quite. It was feral, primeval. I loved it.
Anton Lobo was one of those guys hard to pin down with a label. Technically, he's equal parts Mayan, Scandinavian, Greek and Polynesian. At first I thought he had a gorgeous tan, but I was in the second row. I could tell when he strutted by me that it was no tan. His skin was a Mediterranean olive, but his hair was nearly white it was so blonde. And his eyes. They were hazel, if that's the right term. They changed with the light. Now flashing green, now fading to a choclate brown. Of course he had an awesome body, like those models you see on the cover of calendars advertising "Hot Marine Studs." His eyes locked onto mine for a split second on his return walk. I freaked. My cock grew stiff and I cheered. He gave me a smile and a casual wave. Just another fan. Wave, smile, move on.
The formal posing began after the guys had divided into weight classes. There were no super heavyweights, not at 19-25 years old. The biggest guy on stage was also the oldest: 25-year old, African American Jordan LeBau. The guy from the beach. The guy who'd caught me staring at him.
'Damn! Don't look, don't watch him. Don't let him see that you're here.'
I watched when he was downstage. I watched when his back was turned for his rear double bicep and lat spread. I rubbed my infuriatingly hard cock, hoping it wouldn't tent my shorts.
This was a banquet, a feast for the eyes. It was worth every cent I'd paid and more. Especially when my two chosen ones took the stage, one after the other. Anton took another look at me from the stage when he did his side triceps pose. His grin was, at first, the same plastic stage grin as the rest. But then those green eyes speared me, and the grin turned predatory. I could actually see his upper lip curl from his teeth. I gulped and managed a half-hearted cheer to try and blend in to the crowd of roaring guys around me. His eyes stayed on me. They didn't waver. They flickered while the rest of him stayed still, holding the pose. I saw flecks of gold. Then I realized he wasn't looking directly at me anymore. He was looking down, at my chest. Where my wolf pendant rested, gazing back at him.
When he strode back offstage, I leaned forward in my chair. I saw him say something to Morgan. The second stage began after a ten minute wait while the judges totaled their scores. Relaxed posing, three guys at a time. Both Morgan and Anton ignored me. I shook my head. I was letting my hormones get to me. My cock was finally softening up.
Third round was the free-pose round, to music. This time, it was Morgan who trapped me in the cage of his eyes. This was beyond weird. His eyes held mine with the same intensity as Anton. The same intensity as the old Indian in the shop in Minnesota. He looked at the pendant, too. I noticed the music Morgan was posing to: Metallica's "Off Wolf and Man." Anton had posed to Duran Duran. I shivered. I was officially creeped out.
I debated with myself as I waited to file out of the stadium and meet the contestants for autographs. Should I actually go up to those two and introduce myself? Should I just quietly go back to the hotel after buying some souvenirs? This would be the only time in my life I could shake hands with a real pro bodybuilder. And not only one, but two had noticed me. That fulfilled one secret dream. And in bodybuilding, dreams are as vital as good nutrition. If I was a real bodybuilder, I would complete my dream.
I met Anton first. He was smiling, talking to a couple of women with Southern accents. They left, he signed the flyer of a little boy. Then he raised his head and smiled at me. It wasn't a full smile. It was one of those half smiles, and with the way his eyes glittered, it made my mouth dry.
"Hey," he said in his tenor voice.
"Hi," I managed to answer without stammering. Brownie points to me.
"You got a paper?"
"Uh...actually I was hoping you'd sign my workout journal."
I showed him the notebook. Again that smile. Was I passing some kind of test?
"My pleasure," he said. He took his black pen and turned the notebook to the inside cover. He signed it and returned it to me.
"Uh...have you seen Mr. Bron?"
"Clear on the other side of the stadium."
"Shit," I whispered. I didn't think he'd heard me whisper with all the crowd noise, until he chuckled.
"Don't worry, I'll tell him you said hi."
I thanked him, and politely moved on. A hand closed on my wrist. My heart slapped my ribs.
"Don't you want a photo, man?"
"W..what?"
I turned and looked at Anton. He still had that damn smile, like there was some secret he knew about me.
'Oh, fuck. Please don't tell me he knows I'm gay,' I thought.
"You're obviously a bodybuilder yourself," he said. "I wouldn't mind being in a shot with you. If you want."
I couldn't help blushing hot. No one had ever complemented my physique before.
"Heck, yeah," I said with a grin.
We did a front double bi pose for the camera. I grabbed my stuff and half ran out of the stadium. I knew my cock was tenting my shorts.
I was high. It was the kind of rush you get from a roller coaster, from getting your first short story published, from getting accepted into Harvard. Nothing seemed quite real, and yet intensely real. The food was delicious. The beach and the town were as beautiful as a living painting. I called Robbie, my best friend, and left a gushing voice mail that was mostly stammering and run-on sentences.
By evening, I had calmed down enough to put away my flyers and merchandise from the contest. I held my workout journal in my hands and smiled. I flipped open the cover to gaze at Anton's signature.
Anton hadn't signed it. Instead, he'd written:
Cafe de la Luna. 8:15pm.
The clock said it was 7:45. What the hell was going on? I could barely swallow, barely stand. My hands were shaking.
This can't be what it looks like. It can't be. It's not possible. I do NOT have a date with a pro bodybuilder. It's gotta be a joke, a prank. Maybe he just wants to meet to give me some workout tips.
That sounded so lame to myself that I actually laughed. But I went. Of course I went. I went convinced that I was wrong about what that little note implied.
I hadn't packed any formal clothes, so I wore the nicest casual outfit I had - black slacks, tee shirt and a windbreaker. This was still the desert. Nights were cool.
The Cafe de la Luna was not even ten minutes from my hotel. No wonder the taxi driver gave me a dark look. I paid him an extra tip for the trouble.
It had to be a five star restaurant. The door greeter wore a white tuxedo. There were actual, living peacocks and macaws scampering and cawing around the small gardens to either side of the front door. The door was a Chinese moon door, perfectly circular, painted a rich scarlet. The inside was just as lavish, with crystal chandeliers and a live band playing a Spanish bolero. I was greeted by the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen.
"Buenas noches, señor. Welcome to Cafe de la Luna."
"Uh...I think I have a reservation."
"Sí, and what is the name on the reservation, señor?"
"Anton Lobo."
"Ah, yes. Mr. Lobo has a table for two, I see. Follow me, please."
She practically glided through the fairytale restaurant. Anton stood when I came in sight of the table. He had on a dinner jacket and pants that were probably real silk.
"You got my note," he said with a warm smile, and shook my hand.
He ordered us some water. The hostess lit the table's candle and left. She never showed us a menu. I wondered what was for dinner. I wondered what would come after dinner.
"Look, Mr. Lobo-" I said.
"Anton, man. Nobody calls me that," he said with a chuckle.
I sighed.
"Anton, I don't know what this is about. I mean...are you...are you..."
I couldn't say it. Anton's warm hand rested on mine.
"Don't you know?" he asked quietly. His gorgeous eyes were holding mine again. He was so close I could smell the residual scent of the posing oil still lingering around his skin.
I sucked in a shuddering gasp of air.
"I don't even know you," I whispered. "You don't know my name. Why the hell would you want to...to have dinner with me?"
"What is your name?"
"Eric," I said. "Eric Fina."
"I wanted to have dinner with you because I think you deserve it."
"Huh? Why me?"
Anton's fingers caressed my pendant.
"What's so special about this?" I asked, pulling it out of his grasp.
"You like wolves, huh?"
"Yeah, why's that important?"
Anton had this way of capturing my attention. Every time his eyes met mine, pupil to pupil, I felt strange. Frightened, exilirated, ready to run. I felt like prey. The hairs on my neck stood up.
"How much do you love them?"
There was something in the way he said it that made it sound like the most important question I would ever have to answer in my life. I couldn't help but tell the truth.
"They're not animals to me," I admitted. "I have pictures of them all over my walls at home. I've taken trips to Minnesota and Canada, camping trips, just to try and see them. They're...they're like family."
Anton nodded, his smile gentle.
"I was right about you," he said.
Our food arrived. Steak, with a huge helping of black Mexican beans and yams mixed with spices.
"Gracias," Anton said, his accent perfect.
"De nada. Bien provencho," said the server, who left and never returned.
I took a bite of the steak and felt warm blood drip off my lips. It was rare.
"Relax," Anton said with a grin. "The food here's the best in Venice. You won't get food poisoning from it."
He tore into his steak, putting huge chunks into his mouth and chewing them with relish. I watched him devour half a pound in under ten minutes.
"Try the vegetables," he suggested between mouthfuls.
I did. They were spectacular. We ate in silence. He was so intent on his food that I felt like he'd snap at me if I tried to make conversation.
I didn't have to wait too long for him to finish. He wiped his face with the napkin.
"So," I said, "are you from around here?"
"No, man. I'm from Los Angeles. Can't you hear it in my voice?"
"I'm not from California," I said.
He nodded again.
"I've been here about five years. Gotta tell you, man. If you want to get serious about bodybuilding, this is the place to be. How long are you staying?"
"Another two days. I was going to do some sight seeing. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon at Gold's."
"Gonna pump iron with the big boys, huh?"
"Thats' the idea," I said a bit sheepishly.
Anton put a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Eric. You've really got a nice start to your physique. More than you give yourself credit for. C'mon, give me a flex."
"Right here? Right now?"
"Yeah. Roll up your sleeve and show me that arm."
I felt stupid, but I did it. His fingers slid over my muscle. I shivered. They squeezed it firmly, and I smiled as I felt it barely give. I do have some nice, hard muscles, even if they aren't big. He whistled in appreciation. His fingers glided across my skin, trailing the cut that divides the lower bicep from the rest of the arm.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
I stared at him. He nodded, eyes on my face, expression open and sincere.
"You're beautiful, Eric."
I blinked. Why were there tears in my eyes?
"Thanks," I whispered, looking at my empty plate.
Anton's hand slid up my arm to my neck. It rested their gently. I slowly raised my eyes to his. He closed the gap between us.
Oh God.
I'd never been kissed before. Not even by my own mother. And this wasn't that kind of kiss. It wasn't dirty, or erotic, but it lingered. His lips brushed and pressed my own, warm and soft as peaches, slightly moist. There was a light fur on his upper lip and chin that tickled my skin. Heat flooded my body. I felt sweat bud on my forehead. My breathing grew shallow.
He parted, his hand lightly on my cheek.
"Come with me, Eric Fina."
It felt strange and formal, though he said it in a tender, soft voice, the kind that massages your ear. He stood and offered me his hand. In the candlelight, I could see tiny hairs glinting from his palm.
I stood on an invisible precipice. This was a dream. It was all a dream. I would wake up in my hotel room in the morning with sheets soaked, and I would be alone.
But his hand, when I took it, was warm and strong. I could feel the little hairs of his palm against my own hairless one. His body pressed me gently through our clothes. I could feel his hard pecs and the ridges of his abs for a moment.
He led me, hand in hand, through the back door to the parking lot. Anton drove a black convertible. The hood ornament was a running wolf, cast in silver.
"Hey," I said with a smile, "guess you really like wolves too, huh?"
I sounded like an idiot. Of course he liked wolves. He'd asked me about them. He'd posed to "Hungry Like the Wolf."
"They're like family," he said in an echo of me. He said it the same way I had, softly. Reverently.
We got in the car. Anton didn't turn on music, and we didn't really talk. I never asked where he was taking me. My hand slid across the seat and found his. He held it, driving one-handed. We crested a shallow rise as the moon rose. A moonrise over the ocean is something everyone should see once in their lives. Especially a ripe full one like the one I saw.
His house was single story and had a shallow sloping roof. The whole thing was dark, stained redwood. Big bay windows reflected the rising moon. There was a motorcycle parked in the driveway when we pulled in.
"You live with someone?" I asked.
Anton nodded with another secret smile.
"We're not going to disturb them, are we?"
"Shhhh.." he whispered and leaned toward me.
This time the kiss was hard, almost hungry. My cock swelled as his tongue slid past my lips and began to do things in my mouth I didn't know a tongue was capable of. My body shook. Flames licked at my nerves. I moaned.
He chuckled and broke the kiss.
"No more questions, Eric," he said.
We made it to the front porch before I couldn't hold back any longer. I yanked him against me and this time I didn't hold back. He opened eagerly for me. Our lips formed a wet seal for our tongues to play. I let my hands roam over his body, so hard and curved and strong. No amount of nice clothes could disguise that.
"Eric," he purred softly in my ear, "will you accept us this night? Will you take our gift?"
I broke off suckling his neck to glance at him.
The moon was doing weird things to his eyes. They looked copper, actually reflecting the moonlight. They were a god's eyes.
"Us?"
Anton smiled his dark secret smile.
"Guess who else is here waiting for you."
"Morgan," I gasped.
Anton nodded.
"He's been here since moonrise. Let's not keep him waiting, eh?"
His fingers stroked my hair. He led the way into the dark house. There were no overhead lights. There were no lamps on any of the tables we passed. A series of skylights sent irregular glowing rectangles of starlight onto the soft grey carpet. A screen of trees blocked most of the light pollution from the city. There were paintings of wolves on the walls.
A huge dog rose from the shadow of a couch as we entered. I blinked. No, it had been Morgan's caveman hairstyle. The dim light had tricked me. I smiled at the effect. He strolled toward me, utterly naked.
"You came," he said softly. He said it like we were friends who hadn't seen each other in years. No, deeper than friends. Brothers. Partners. Lovers.
"Yes," I said.
He embraced me. His fingers slid under the back of my shirt and rubbed the bare skin of my spine as we kissed.
"Will you take our gift, Eric?" he whispered, licking the back of my ear. Anton was caressing my thighs from behind, fingers groping for the button on my pants.
"Gift?" I wanted to ask. But Anton's words came back to me. No more questions, Eric.
"Yes," I whispered. I shuddered and gasped. I moaned. Anton had found what he was looking for and my pants were coming down over my hips.
"Oh, god yes. Yes!"
They guided me into the bedroom. We couldn't stop kissing. It was giddy and delicious, sampling first one mouth then the other. I felt like royalty. I felt like a slave. In the bedroom, Anton helped me with my pants and boxers while Morgan removed my jacket and shirt. There was a skylight directly over the bed.
The moon rose higher, silver light leaking onto the bed. Morgan's dark hair glinted in it. His eyes sparked, throwing back the light, making his eyes look like gold. I stared at them. I had seen those eyes before. The photos of wolves. They were a wolf's eyes.
"Morgan...your eyes..."
Morgan smiled.
"Not just my eyes, Eric. Our eyes."
I turned to look at Anton. His copper eyes gazed down at me with love. He had stripped to the waist, and was opening his pants while the moonlight drew shadows across his muscular body.
"Don't be afraid," Anton purred. His voice was deeper. More like a gentle growl.
They'd kept my pendant on me. It felt warm and heavy on my chest. Morgan fingered it. Anton crawled onto the bed, lithe as a cat. Supple as a wolf. His hands caressed the pendant as well.
"We knew when we saw this pendant that you were ready for us, Eric," Morgan rumbled. His voice was an octave lower than it had been a moment ago.
"You were ready to know that we exist," Anton added, close to my ear.
"You were ready to take our gift," Morgan whispered.
His fingers raked lightly across my pecs. The nails were sharp, but they didn't draw blood. They raised goosebumps of pleasure on my skin.
"You're...you're..."
"Yes, Eric," Anton said with a chuckle. "We are wolves. And you have been chosen among all over humans to join our pack."
"You look on us as family," Morgan said. "And so we welcome you. And we love you."
I was weeping openly. Sobbing. A tongue lapped my tears gently away. A set of hands with clawed nails and furred palms massaged my back, giving comfort. I felt the same warmth flood through me. I was burning. Burning with love for these two gorgeous creatures, burning with desire and want and need and hunger.
They embraced me, one in front, one behind. Warm hard muscle squeezed my body gently. Hot breath washed my neck. Two hardening cocks rolled against my body. My lust exploded. I was moaning hard, panting, nearly howling.
Morgan chuckled, the sound a low, predatory growl that sent shivers down my spine. Anton opened his mouth, curling back lips from ivory fangs as he took up the growl. They wanted me. I wanted them. I growled back.
We were not quiet. Anton and Morgan made love to me with inhuman passion and a tenderness only known to wolves of the same pack. Everything they did, they did to heighten my pleasure. Everything I did to them and for them was for the same reason, and they responded.
Moans and sighs filled the air. Wet hard kisses where teeth met fangs and saliva flowed like wine. My puny human hands slapping and groping muscles that had swollen larger and more defined on their bodies as the moonlight changed them. They sprouted ruffs down their necks and over their backs. Their groans of ecstasy shook my body to the bone.
I was licked from scalp to toes, and they relished every inch without shame. I began to scream as they played my body like an instrument whose music was sex so good it was holy. It was Tantric, transcendent, divine and heathen, sacred and horribly profane.
There in the moonlight one of them suckled my cock, all seven inches of it, while the other pleasured my asshole. Cool lupine noses rubbed my balls and my loins as they came together and kissed each other. Hands with the rough calluses of paws caressed, rubbed, massaged my muscles. I was worshipped.
And I gave worship. Two inhumanly buff bodybuilders flexed their muscles for me to feel and taste. Their golden eyes and feral, lupine bone structure gave their faces more beauty than angels, more sex appeal than an incubus. It is, I have learned, called animal magnetism. They can use it to harness whoever they wish to mate with, but the partner never receives the full effect unless there is a kindred spirit within.
I felt a hint of that effect now. I howled, sure I would cum. My cock was burning, hot and hard, my body icy cold and electrified. Every nerve tingled and hummed. My lovers howled with me.
The lovemaking grew naughtier. They pinned me down and snarled in my face while they forced me to suck their throbbing cocks. Anton was nine inches long, Morgan was eleven. They wrestled me, slapped me, clawed me until I bled. I bit their muscled flesh, snarling like an animal and they shuddered and moaned and smeared their precum on my lips. They gave me every fantasy I whispered in their ears.
At last, at last the time was right. I could barely recognize Morgan as he wrapped those massive, rippling arms around my waist. His gigantic meat pulsed and throbbed and dripped pre as he pressed it and mine against my belly. Anton embraced me from behind. Pecs that could crush steel brushed the back of my head. Washboard abs swathed in a happy trail of fur down to his crotch massaged my back. I spread my ass and legs wide.
Anton entered me. Morgan kissed me. I shuddered and gripped his mighty shoulders. We began to move. It was slow, like ocean waves, all of us moaning and panting in utter animal rut. Pre leaked in a steady stream from my cock, thicker than I'd ever felt when pleasuring myself. Though their heads were fully wolf now, their bodies were still largely without fur, so I could feel their smooth skin and rippling, rolling muscles caress my own.
I gasped as Anton's cock connected with my prostate. Morgan's paws caressed my face, and I gazed into those incredible wolf eyes in a fully lupine face. Never had I see such utter, selfless love. Morgan adored me. He would die for me. And I would for him.
We kissed, his hot, huge wolf tongue and my puny human one. I didn't want it to be small any more. I didn't want this pathetic human shell to confine me and prevent me from pleasuring my packmates! I wanted to howl as they did, to be strong and swift, to taste raw blood, to make love to them like nothing natural could make love! Change me! I begged with my kisses and my shuddering moans as I was fucked. Make me as you are! I am a wolf! I AM A WOLF!
Fangs bit down on my neck. I screamed in pain, but great muscled arms held me tight so I couldn't struggle, pull away, make the wound worse. A second set of fangs buried themselves in my shoulder. Agony gave way to euphoria and ecstasy.
Explosions of pleasure rocked my body. I screamed. I howled. They screamed. They howled. We came in a single glorious moment, a benediction, a communion of flesh and sweat, fur and blood, spit and cum.
Birdsong wafted through my mind. A warm breeze stirred my hair. I opened one eye and sunlight stabbed me. Anton's scent enfolded me and his tongue, now human once more, ran over my cheek.
I hummed, smiling, and ran my fingers through his hair. I felt Morgan's hand rub my chest. I had never felt so alive or happy before. My eyes grew adjusted to the light and opened. We didn't speak. We didn't have to.
Wordlessly, the two werewolves rose and padded to the kitchen. I began to hear the sounds of cooking, and soon marvelous aromas of pancakes, sausage, bacon, and ham were filling my nostrils. I paused in the doorway to the bathroom. I inhaled again. I could smell more than just breakfast. I could smell the lingering scent of their bodies on mine, and of the sex stains and blood drying on the sheets. A window was open. I could smell the trees and grass, the dew - a marvelous scent, dew - everything so rich and detailed and sweet. I laughed.
In the bathroom mirror I looked at the bite marks on my neck, the scratches over my chest, back, legs. I looked like I'd been mauled by a wild animal.
Yeah, two of 'em. I thought to myself with another chuckle.
After a shower, I joined them where they were lounging in the living room. There were no plates. We all shared a single massive bowl of food. I smiled and playfully fed Morgan strips of bacon. This developed into a food fight, and soon we were all wrestling naked on the floor like puppies.
Anton picked me up and carried me bodily back into the bedroom. He and I played with each other's bodies while Morgan did the dishes and cleaned up. Then Anton got dressed, took the motorcycle and drove off, leaving me with wonderful, dark-haired Morgan.
I groaned as his cum filled my mouth. I swallowed it, tasting bacon. I licked his member clean. He kissed me, and we lay in each other's arms.
"So...I'm a wolf now, too?" I asked.
Morgan smiled and shook his head.
"You've taken the first step, but to become one of us, there's two more parts to the rite. Tonight, you'll feel the burning of the moon for the first time."
He touched my shoulder.
"It will hurt. A lot. As much as last night felt good, tonight will feel bad."
I gulped.
"But...but you'll be with me, right?"
"Always," Morgan whispered and meant it. "But tonight you must face the moonlight alone."
I lowered my head, but nodded. We made love again. Then we dressed. Morgan showed me around the house. It was spartan by human standards. The fridge and cupboards were well stocked, but that was to be expected since both Morgan and Anton were bodybuilders. But there was no television, no radio, no computers or Internet. There was a small collection of books, mostly on workouts and nutrition. Each of them had their own wardrobe, and they showed me a place I could put clothes until I got one of my own. The house had no hot water or air conditioning. It was solar-powered and off the city's power grid. Water came from a private aquifer. Heating and cooling happened through a series of airflow vents. We were, for all intents and purposes, autonomous.
Anton returned from the gym later that day, and we both greeted him with enthusiasm. Every meal I ate with them was huge and tasted wonderful. They only used the freshest ingredients, all organic.
"So," I said between mouthfuls, "who runs this pack, anyway?"
I had asked the question in a light tone, but both of them stopped eating. I glanced at them.
"The alpha lives in town. He hardly ever visits the den," Anton said.
"He'll want to meet you eventually," Morgan added.
They exchanged worried glances.
"What?" I asked.
Anton sighed.
"There's a chance he wont approve of you being like this. He has the authority to stop a Turning of a human before it's complete."
"Then I'd go back the way I was?"
Morgan shook his head.
"There's no going back, and no 'cure,' either. If the alpha doesn't like you, he will kill you."
That took care of my appetite. My packmates tried to comfort me, but it wasn't much use. Evening came all too quickly. They prepared an area outside the house for my ordeal. From this spot, I could look over downtown Venice and out to sea. The air cooled. The moon rose.
Morgan and Anton stood naked with me, hands on my shoulders.
"Open yourself to it like you did to us," Anton advised.
"And whatever happens," Morgan said, "remember that we love you."
I kissed each of them. They went inside.
I knelt on the ground and waited while the moon rose higher. It turned from golden to cold silver. I shivered. I sweated. The moon reached its zenith. I screamed.
It was like some vengeful goddess had taken a spear and stabbed me to the earth. I writhed on the ground while my muscles twitched and knotted into cramps upon knots upon cramps, as if trying to rip away from my bones and burst out of my skin. Then my skeleton itself began to go crazy. I swore through a mouth full of bile. I cursed God and the moon and myself. I clawed at my itching skin, trying to get rid of the stinging invisible ants that were eating it alive. I wept like a baby. I begged for my mother. I was slowly and methodically swallowed by moonlight and burned alive.
I was still weeping softly when Anton and Morgan helped me into the house, my arms over their shoulders. They sat in bed with me, holding me against them. I shuddered and sobbed.
"You endured it, Eric," Anton said softly. "You did it."
"What now?" I sniffed and wiped my nose.
Morgan looked at Anton.
"It takes more than a bite and full moon's light to make a wolf from man."
He met my eyes.
"It takes human flesh."
"What?" I whispered. I was sure I hadn't heard him right, even though my hearing was now better than the average dog's. I was still getting used to that.
"You must feed the wolf in yourself," Anton said. "You must hunt."
"Alone?"
"Never."
I smiled.
"But you must make the kill," Morgan said.
I shuddered.
"How do I know who to...to hunt?"
"You will know," Morgan said. "We hunt only those who are our prey - the weak, the young, the sick, the dying. Let your instincts guide you to these."
"And above all," Anton warned, "you must control yourself. You can't believe the power at your command, but it'll corrupt and consume you if you aren't careful. We don't want to hunt down one of our own who's become a monster."
Night again. We'd slept all day, saving our strength for the hunt. We woke at dusk and walked for two hours into town. It was the rough neighborhood of Venice. Every town has an underbelly. That's my hunting ground...our hunting ground. Any wonder crime rates are so high in places like that? Anton and Morgan walked off, leaving me to scout ahead. They whispered good luck.
The city was different to me now. I hated it. I hated it to my bones and in my writhing guts. The air itself felt poisoned. I could smell old garbage, urine, blood, rubber, asphalt, semen, sweat, pet dander and weeds all at once. Like a smog over humanity that never lifts.
Hunt the sick? This whole damn city was sick!
I snarled quietly to myself. Then my ears pricked forward. Well, okay, they didn't actually move. I was still human in the body. But that's what they did. My hearing focused. A steady bass rhythm. I followed it to a seedy club. It had been made within a warehouse next to a strip mall. The bouncers were two huge Asian men with tattoo sleeves. This was Venice, California. Big men weren't hard to find.
They let me inside, didn't ask for an ID or anything. The music was unbearable. It was painful. It was torture in my skull. I bared my teeth. Suddenly, the music faded to a tolerable level. My hearing was human again. But my scent was still wolf. I used it to guide me.
Cologne, mascera, plastic. Sweat, spit, breath. This was a gay bar. I'd never been in a gay bar. So many winding, gyrating bodies, male pole dancers, strobe lights that highlighted men groping and sucking face. I was wrong. Not a really gay bar, then. More like a meat market. I was flirted with three times in ten minutes. I glared them away.
You are not my prey. You are not why I am here.
But the reason was here. Somewhere close. Someone big pulled off his shirt in the middle of the dance floor. The audience roared its approval. I couldn't help but stare. That massive back with its sweat-oiled chocolate skin rippled in muscle. His hips swayed like a palm tree. He turned and his sunglasses reflected my face.
He slowly reached up and pulled them off. It was Jordan LeBau.
I backed away. His eyes locked me in place. I knew that look, now. Jordan was a wolf like Anton and Morgan. He strode forward slowly, and the crowd parted for him. Damn, he was big! His body seemed to grow the closer he got to me. I could smell his sweat, and I knew my pants were tenting.
"Like what you see, pup?" he asked.
"What did you call me?"
He sneered.
"New Turned. We call you guys pups until you've learned to be useful."
"It's you," I whispered. "You're the alpha."
"Damn right I am. Smells like a hunt's on the wind."
"My first."
"Go get 'em, then, pup."
He let me go with his eyes. I jolted and moved forward. He tapped my shoulder.
"Just remember one thing, Eric," he growled. "When we hunt together....I get first meat."
His voice shook me to my bones. I could only nod, and then he moved away, apparently satisfied that he'd put me in my place. Then I found my prey. He was sitting at the bar. He had a bit of a gut, which was probably why no one was hitting on him. He had a drink in front of him, but he didn't smell like booze. I closed in.
He saw me. It was the same look I'd seen on TV documentaries, when the hare spots the wolf. He nearly fell off his chair. I could feel a hot rush running through my blood. Oh yeah, this was my prey all right. There was a back door. He bolted.
I snarled and broke into a sprint.
I slammed open the door as it was swinging shut. A gun's barrel looked me dead in the face.
"Hold it right there!"
The damn fake drinker was a cop! He held his badge in another hand, a hand that trembled.
I should have been scared. I should have held my hands up, faced the wall, got on the ground. I didn't. The heat in my blood was fire, now. The moon shone down on me. Power. Power like you read about in comic books when the Hulk bursts out. Power like a battery soaking up electric current. My body was awash in it, drowning me, choking me.
I barely felt the bullet. It must have passed clean through my skull but I just laughed. My laugh was a hell of a lot deeper. I was a hell of a lot bigger. Soon, I had my eye back, and then my face. Only it wasn't my face any more. As my laugh deepened even more, my snout stretched outward and I licked a long wolf tongue over my fangs.
I flexed my clawed paws and glared at the petrified cop with burning golden eyes. I was more muscular than I had ever dreamed. My clothes were in rags, hanging off my massive, rippling body. I leered at him and did a most muscular that would have made Mr. Olympia proud.
"RUN," I snarled.
The cop emptied his barrel into me and then ran, screaming, for his car. That hurt. And it pissed me off. I loved it. My massive cock was semi hard between my legs as I loped after him. He managed to get in his car before I could catch up with him. Not that it mattered.
I skidded to a stop, blinded by his headlights. My throbbing cock gave a thud as it landed on the hood. He gunned the engine and floored it. The car slammed into me like a battering ram. Hit me and didn't move. The tires squealed and burning rubber made my eyes water.
My huge paws grabbed the front of the car. I roared. I flexed my rippling thighs. My biceps surged in size as I lifted the car off the ground and crushed the engine like so much tinfoil.
I'm a fucking GOD!
I plunged a fist into the windshield and yanked the screaming cop out, scornfully dropping his car. His screams were like the shrill shrieks of a terrified monkey.
"Shut. Up." I growled, inches from his face.
I smelled piss. I snickered. I lifted my head back and laughed, then howled to the sky, calling Anton and Morgan to share the feast.
My huge foot paws slammed down on the car as I walked over it, smashing it flat with one giant stomp after another. Only then did I open my jaws, lick the cop's skin. He'd fainted. Good for him. Jaws pierced flesh and bone. Blood flooded my mouth like wine.
I rent meat, chewed, swallowed. My back snapped and I fell to all fours. My body shrank. Two other wolves rounded the corner and ran up to me. We licked each other, wagging tails.
As one, all three of us ran. We ran while the wind sung in our fur and the moon danced a merry, teasing chase through the branches of trees and the wires of telephone poles overhead.
When we reached the house, Jordan was waiting for us. He wasn't human, either. As a werewolf, I stood at a good seven feet. Jordan towered at twelve. His massive, black-furred body seethed with muscles almost to the point of deformity, but I could see from how he moved that he'd lost none of his human agility. He held his regal head high, tail erect as we ran over to him.
Anton and Morgan were gorgeous as werewolves. They were like common horses in front of a prize stallion compared to Jordan. They eagerly nuzzled his chin, licked his giant pecs, buried their faces under his huge balls. Jordan turned to me. I cowered.
"Come here, pup," he thundered.
I crawled to him on my belly, shifting to werewolf, then melting to full human.
A giant paw cupped me and lifted me to my feet. I stared up at those deep, golden eyes, felt the hot breath on my skin. My cock was hard as a rock against my abs.
"I will take Eric with me. You two amuse yourselves somewhere else."
I gulped as I was set back down. There was no disobeying Jordan. Jordan shrank to human form and walked through the doorway, his ebony skin catching the moonlight on his bare ass.
We were in the bedroom, and then I was kneeling to nuzzle Jordan's balls and cock. He hummed in approval and stroked my hair.
"Alpha," I whispered.
"You may call me Jordan, Eric," he said in a soft, deep voice. "I've accepted you."
Tears of joy fell onto my cheeks.
"Thank you, Jordan."
He crouched and held my face.
"You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"
"I used to dream about being a wolf when I was a kid," I confessed. Then I confessed more. I told him about how hot he'd looked on the beach and at the contest. I spilled every secret I'd ever kept, and even a few I knew I'd been keeping from myself. Jordan listened in silence, like a king. Then he stroked my chin.
"You'll make a good edition to the pack," he said.
"Really?"
He smiled warmly.
"Really."
Then he kissed me.
My packmate's kisses had been heaven. Jordan's kiss was beyond that. If I'd been human, I would have cummed instantly. It was like kissing a storm. Jordan's power coursed through me in that kiss, embracing me and claiming me as his own. His hands roamed my body, touching me anywhere he liked.
I reached out a tentative hand toward his thick cock. He gave me a smile and a nod of encouragement. I moaned as my hand closed on it.
"Give it a good stroking, pup," he murred in my ear.
I did. I stroked him with both hands, then took the head into my mouth and pleasured my alpha. He sighed, moaned and lay on the bed, stretching his godly, muscled body out to receive my tribute.
I took as much as I could, but Jordan was hung like a god, even as a human. I felt his precum on my tongue and let up. I began to worship his muscles, moaning and licking his thick, meaty thighs liked I'd longed to do on the beach. I climbed up his body, straddling his waist, and rubbed myself on his wide abs, feeling those gorgeous obliques.
"Yeah.....mmmm..yeah...Eric...lick 'em for me, babe."
I did. And when he raised his arms to rest his head on his hands, I licked up his lats and into his armpits.
"Mmmm..Jordan....would you...um...do something for me if I asked?"
Jordan regarded me for a minute as if seeing if I were challenging his authority. I could almost feel my ears lower.
"Sure, babe."
I blushed.
"W...would you...change for me?"
Jordan chuckled. He sat up and crawled on top of me, grinning and nipping my neck.
"Mmmm...you want me huge, don't you? All big and bad."
I shivered.
"Please, alpha."
"YOU GOT IT, PUP," he said in a voice three times deeper and louder. His body swelled, bulged. Rich black fur grew like grass in time-lapse photography. His grin widened, fangs stretching downward. A giant clawed hand ran over my back.
"NOW WORSHIP ME, LITTLE WOLF."
I cummed on his fur. I buried my face in his inhumanely massive pecs and licked his nipples. I humped him, kissed him, moaned when he gave my ass and balls a single massive slurp.
"I THINK IT'S TIME I CLAIMED YOU LIKE THE BETA YOU ARE."
He pointed downward. I understood instantly and I kissed his knuckles before I obeyed. He was going to mount me. As a werewolf.
It was like being straddled by a mountain. His moan of pleasure made my teeth rattle. A monster's cock, six inches wide and two feet long, slid like white hot fire up my legs, stretching and stretching my ass cheeks.
"Oooooohhhh....take me, Jordan......."
My anal ring screamed in protest. I screamed. Jordan snarled and kept pressing. I felt something give. Then he was inside me. Filling me , owning me.
No human could have endured Jordan fucking him in what we call our true form - the mighty werewolf form. But I wasn't human any more. I healed around Jordan's gigantic member, and kept healing every time he plunged his huge meat inside. The sensation of mending flesh became a second pleasure.
"YOU'RE HOT, PUP," my alpha moaned.
I whined and wriggled my ass, clenching the muscles as he drove his cock into my depths. In the distance, I could hear the howls and moans as Anton and Morgan began their own rough sex. But I was the lucky one tonight.
Jordan's body enveloped me, and I slowly felt myself shifting to true werewolf form to accomidate him. Jordan whuffed and groaned so loud the windows shook. Apparently, feeling my ass shapeshift around his cock was a bit of a turn-on for him.
"Mmmmm....does my alpha like that?" I snickered.
I began to shift back and forth from human to werewolf as his pounding thrusts increased. His claws shredded the mattress in his lust. He sounded like a living locomotive, chuffing and panting, huge muscles working on me.
I was filled with such animal hunger, such unbridled, unnatural PLEASURE at being used by him. I howled. Anton and Morgan howled. Then Jordan howled and released his seed in me.
I will never forget that howl. It was the howl of a god. The windows shattered. I swear every dog in Venice heard his orgasm howl. I was in werewolf form and I joined him.
That sticky, thick gism hit my prostate and kept going. I was filled up to my bladder in cum, with more oozing out my ass to coat the fur of my legs.
Jordan murred and leaned down to lick my head.
"I'M GLAD I KEPT YOU, PUP. YOU WANT ANOTHER?"
"You can DO that?" I cried.
Jordan laughed as Morgan and Anton came padding in, both sexy werewolf studs with their fur doing nothing to disguise those Grecian bodies.
"You're a werewolf, Eric," Anton said, kneeling in front of me so that his wolfhood dangled tantlilizngly close to my muzzle.
"You didn't think rapid recovery only applied to wounds, did you?"
I moaned in love for my pack. Morgan kissed Jordan long and wet and slow. Then he got behind Anton. Soon, everyone who was still awake in Venice, California could hear the sounds of four beasts lost in a pleasure and a love they would never understand.
I dance to the drums of running paws, I taste the nectar of bloody flesh, I sing the ancient song to the skies. I run. I hunt. And I am home.