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It was late in the afternoon when the bus arrived at the camp, located 20 miles south of Athens, Georgia. They'd all been separated: boys on the driver's side ("So I can keep an eye on you ruffians," the driver had said) and the girls on the passenger side. It had been a packed ride, both in terms of the suitcases they'd brought and the sheer number of them (twenty in total, evenly divided), and a hot one, since they had a poor AC system that the driver refused to activate; he insisted they roll down the windows to circulate the air.

They'd all originally met at a hotel earlier in the day, using their free time to socialize before the camp sent the bus to collect them. The camp rented out a conference room for a few hours in the morning, for everyone to be in one place and to save their parents the full drive; part of the enrollment fee went to the rental so that the camp didn't suffer a tragic shortage of money.

At the hotel, Grant had met and familizarized himself with Matt and Arnold. Both were 18, but that was where their similarities ended: Matt was white and skinny as a rail and had thin, shoulder-length black hair that always looked wet, with small gauge piercings in his ears and deep blue eyes; Arnold was beefier but otherwise average and, thanks to his Cuban-black heritage, had a complexion like milk chocolate and short, fuzzy black hair and dark brown eyes. Matt had originally been from Connecticut, but constantly moved around because of his father's communications career. Arnold was from a small town about 40 miles east from Macon, but moved to Augusta when his parents had managed to purchase a spacious dance studio for his mother's classes (the back rooms were reserved for his father's freelance journalism needs). Grant felt like he was stuck between the two: he was of average height and weight with a moderately-athletic build from plenty of swimming classes, and had short-cropped brown hair and light green eyes.

Upon learning that Grant had both been named after the American Civil War general Ulysses S. Grant and lived his whole life in Massachusetts, Arnold had become a one-man comedian army.

"Man, I'm surrounded by carpet-baggers!" he laughed. "No breaks for this brother! Got the Conquering North down here!"

Grant had tried to laugh along with his new friend, but wasn't feeling it. "Uh, sorry."

Arnold waved him off. "Don't be; I'm just fucking with you. Couldn't care less what you look like or where you're from. Doesn't make a bit of difference to me."

Relief flooded through the light-skinned youth, but before he could reply with a joke of his own, Matt said, "I have read that telling dirty jokes is the quickest way to make friends. Think we should try it out?"

Arnold gaped at him. "Where on earth would you read that?"

Matt shrugged. "Old science-fiction short story. I thought it was hilarious, especially for an ending."

After such an ice-breaking, the trio had covered all the male conversation necessities: video games, films, dropping out from local karate classes, and even whether or not Green Day was the best punk rock band in history.

"So why'd your parents sign you up?" Matt asked Grant as the former nursed a soda. They'd sat down at the conference room's far end, for privacy, a small plate of danishes the only thing keeping them company. "Mine are starting to think my being mildly effeminate means I'm gay, so they want me to learn some quasi-Boy Scout stuff so that anyone who might kick my not-actually-gay ass will be less certain of themselves."

While Arnold doubled over with amusement, Grant answered, "Honestly, they just want me gone." At the other boys' looks, he nodded. "Yeah, I know. I mean, come on, I do my chores and my homework and I even do pretty good amateur auto repairs. How is that not enough? I have a 3.0 GPA, for pity's sake."

Smiling, Arnold told him, "Sorry to go off-topic for just a second, but you talk like you are the most foul-mouthed person living in the 1940s. I love being on my own for a bit; means I can curse like a motherfucker and not get a belt across my ass."

Matt almost choked on his drink. "A belt? Your parents actually hit you?"

Arnold nodded. "Hell yeah they do. Why the hell should they spend money on a shrink to figure out how over-emotional I am or am not being when they can put me in my place themselves? Worked for them growing up, and I haven't been the cause of any phone calls from the cops, so I'd say it's working for me."

They both looked at Grant, who sheepishly confessed, "I, uh, I was spanked a bit for cheating on a math test in third grade. Taught me never to fuck with Johnny Law."

Arnold was smiling so wide his head nearly split in half. "Now you're learning!" He shared a fist bump with Grant.

They had a few more laughs before Arnold turned to Matt again. "You said you're mildly effeminate? How's that working out?"

"I'm sorry?" was the confused boy's response.

"What I'm asking is, you're not actually gay, according to what you said earlier, but would you do gay things?"

Matt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Define 'gay things.'"

"Have you ever thought about sucking another dude's dick?"

"Are we talking a real dick, a realistic dildo, or a tranny's dick?"

"Define 'tranny,'" Arnold countered.

"Not a crossdresser, but someone who is predominately female in form and yet has a schlong and berries."

"It has to be a real dick, on a man, woman, or in-between. It can even be your own dick."

Now it was Matt's turn to look sheepish. "I've actually tried that, but I failed horribly. I don't have a big dick and I'm not very flexible. Oh, cruel fate."

Even Grant chuckled at that lazy fist-shaking. Arnold, though, wasn't swayed.

"Still gotta answer the question, man: would you suck a dick?"

Matt thought for a long moment before giving his reply. "I think I would give another person a good blowjob. I mean, I'm naturally not going to lust after every cock that's hanging out in front of me, but I don't have a huge problem with gay oral sex."

"All right, fair enough."

Grant leaned forward, holding up a hand. "Wait, wait, what's with this line of questioning? I'm not getting where this is going."

Arnold looked at him as if he should have caught onto the most obvious thing in the world.

"Dude, two things: first, the camp has gender-segregated sleeping quarters; and second, it's just talk. I am absolutely not trying to seduce or corrupt or whatever anyone."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine with answering these. We're going to a sausage festival, might as well be gay about it. That's a joke too, by the way."

Bright red, Grant buried his face in his hands, groaning, "Where are you when I need you, Jerry Seinfeld?"

---

Once they'd stepped off the bus, luggage in hand, a pair of senior camp counselors had greeted them and led them to their cabins, which indeed were separated by gender. The cabins, which were single-story and brick-shaped, the short ends facing the camp's medium-sized lake, totalled ten altogether, set up so that each one was shared by two people, the names posted outside on the door. The girls had been led away by a perky redhead named Jasmine, who took them to the five small cabins on the lake's opposite side.

The boys were led around by Andy, a dark-eyed blond who had a habit of snapping his fingers constantly. They stopped halfway past the boys' cabins. They had a plain wooden door and a single window in front, with a sloped and shingled roof. Painted in dark mahogany tones, they weren't particularly impressive.

"We love structure here, guys, okay?" he asked them. He even stopped snapping his fingers to make sure they paid attention. "You'll all be wearing uniforms like mine, which do indeed look like we swiped them from a bunch of rangers at a national park. The uniforms are color-coded to show the authority ladder we have: you newbies will be wearing ultramarine neckerchiefs, and seniors like me will be wearing carmine ones."

A boy raised his hand. "I don't get it. Why are we getting uniforms when we're not staff?"

Andy cocked an eyebrow. "Your parents didn't explain the letter to you? It was all in there." At the other's head shake, he continued, "Well, anyway, you're not campers so much as you are junior camp counselors. That's your official handle, by the way. We're giving you the skills to be on staff at other camps. It's like taking secondary ed courses at college: it's all to prepare you to teach, even though you're learning."

"Um, who's the boss here? You guys?" another boy asked.

Andy laughed. "Yeah, no, I wish." He turned and pointed to a short-haired brunette at a rather large cabin (A common house? Grant wondered), who was wearing a green neckerchief and yelling at a senior counselor. Squinting, Grant could just make out that her uniform had capri-style pants.

"That's Jo Volk, Deputy Counselor and daughter of Lyle Volk, Chief Counselor. She's the only one here allowed to wear a green neckerchief, and Lyle's the only one allowed to wear a black one." He said the surname with a "V."

Matt gave a despair-laden moan. "Please don't tell me she's a hardass."

Andy laughed, shaking his head. "No worries there, 'cause we're all going to make you wish you'd joined the Peace Corps."

After that, he explained the daily shedule: they would all be woken up by the senior counselors at 8 A.M. (the former waking at 7), and would have breakfast from 8:30 until 9:30. From then until quarter of, they would share cleanup duties (kitchen and dining area), and the fifteen minutes after that would be for them to quickly brush their teeth.

Starting at 10 A.M. sharp, they were to report for roll call in front of the Big House, where they would be assigned their rotating daily duties, such as inventory control, hiking path detailing (clearing fallen objects and making sure signs were in place), and repairing or replacing any damaged materials.

At 1:30, they'd have two hours for lunch in the mess hall (the only other large building, located at the lake's opposite end, directly across from the Big House), with shared cleaning duties again afterwards (though they would be granted a full half-hour to make everything neat and proper). Once 4 o'clock rolled around, they were to finish up any leftover work and at 6, clean themselves up for a 6:30 dinner (which would end at 7:30). More cleaning, followed by an 8 P.M. roll call and then bed, with lights out being a strict 10. Only the seniors, Jo, and Chief Volk were allowed to be out past the curfew.

Matt laughed. "I'm sorry, but, isn't that a double standard? How are we supposed to follow in your footsteps if you don't make any?"

A few of the others nodded, but Andy looked pissed. He kicked a rock, sending it flying almost to the middle of the lake.

"Goddamn it!" he snarled, and everyone leapt back. "You're going to expose our master plan to flood the food industry with imitation condiments! Can't you do anything right?"

Seeing him smile and shake his head, the group relaxed; he'd only been messing with them.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you. We can be out after hours because we're seniors. Being a senior counselor means you've earned the camp's trust and that if you need to do a bed check or get a locked item or whatever, you won't be hassled. It means you won't be told to turn out your lights even if it's 1 in the morning, because you've already proven that you can be up at 7 with no trouble."

"But you'll be kicked down in rank if you make a big enough mistake or a series of mistakes, right?" a Hispanic boy named Felix asked. He was 17, soon to be 18, but looked younger, the kind of face that girls would call "super-cute."

Andy shook his head. "Nope. We've proven we're trustworthy and we don't dare lose that. No matter what, we get the job done."

Someone whistled. "Can I grow up to be a woodland badass like you, mister?"

They all burst into laughter, with Andy naturally guffawing the loudest. Once he'd managed to pull himself together, he told everyone, "Okay, okay. You'll find a schedule copy in the top drawer of each night stand in your cabins. Since it's already too late in the day for you to start chores, you can just dick around for a while until we ring the dinner bell. You'll also find uniforms on the beds -- no bunk beds, for safety reasons, by the way -- with your names on them. You don't need to wear them today unless you want to kiss Jo's ass."

Arnold blinked. "What about Chief Volk?"

A head shake. "He eats in his office. And no, you don't get to meet him until the end of your time here. All issues are handled through Jo."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Makes sense. Have an absentee boss for a hands-on facility."

Andy gave him a sobering look. "He's very hands-on. You'll understand when you meet him." He checked his watch. "Better get to settling in while you still can."

"Wait!" someone yelled. "You haven't told us what the camp's Halloween plans are! It's tomorrow!"

Andy shrugged. "Well, you know, spoiling a mystery is considered poor form. If I told you, then all the seniors would wake up to a pack of angry weasels in our beds. Can't have that, now can we?"

Grant couldn't decide if he was more shocked or confused when Andy turned and left, blithely ignored calls for more answers.

---

Grant had been assigned to share his cabin with Ollie, a local who lived with his uncle. He was like a dirty blond version of Matt, but with a tan from working on a small farm for almost a decade.

"These things fit great!" the 17-year-old beamed.

Sure enough, their cabin had a pair of beds, with matching night stands and small lamps, each set on opposite sides. Grant frowned upon seeing that they'd be sleeping in twin beds; he hated those and would have much preferred queens. When he checked them out some more, he found that the sheets had been heavily starched, which meant that sleeping in them would be a bit rough.

Laid on top of the beds were a pair of uniforms, so that they would always have a clean one. The shirts were cream-colored and button-up, with the camp's emblem sewn onto each sleeve, which themselves were short, ending at the elbow. The pants were dark gray slacks, and Grant had to wonder if Jo's were the exception to the rule or if every girl got to wear capris.

When he tried them on, they felt pretty damn comfy. He had the sneaking suspicion that his parents (indeed, all the families) had supplied precise physical information to the camp for custom-made clothes. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen any brand tags on them...

"We are sexy bastards!" Ollie laughed, posing in uniform. "Andy said we don't need to wear them, but I think we should. Shows enthusiasm."

Grant paused, thinking it over, and then nodded. After donning his own, he quickly checked the back room, which (thank heaven) was a compact bathroom, with a toilet, shower, and sink-and-mirror combo. It'd get the job done.

They left the humble abode, with Ollie wanting to check out the small dock and boat house (between the mess hall and girls' cabins) and Grant feeling like checking out the Big House. He wanted to be sure that there was an infirmary to handle small injuries, and a landline to the fire department and police; one could never be too safe out in the woods. He really rather liked the design: a three-story building with plenty of windows and a side porch with several chairs, but the front just had a door with an upper window, a short set of stairs leading up to it.

"Help you with something?" a senior asked. It was another girl, this time a caramel-skinned beauty with a slender figure and just-right B-cups. Her sepia-colored hair was cut jaggedly off at mid-neck and streaked with red, causing her to resemble a sorceress; her accent, which sounded partly Southern, helped further this. Like he'd seen on Jo earlier, her pants were capri-style, giving him his answer. Her nametag read "Cara."

Grant indicated the Big House. "Yeah, I was hoping to see what the modest medical facilities were like. I don't want to sprain my ankle or break my arm and not get basic treatment."

She waved her hand as if his question was ridiculous. "Oh, we have a nurse's office with a bed and a bunch of liquids and stuff. Just what you get at a middle school."

He blinked, a little surprised. "And that's okay?"

Cara shrugged. "We get less kids than most any school and you're only here for two weeks on holiday. What'll happen?"

Grant himself hadn't understood that, the schools in the state district agreeing to take a two-week holiday for Halloween when none of the state's other educational facilities were going to do so.

He nodded. "All right, I guess that works. You have a landline to reach emergency services, though, right?"

The Big House's door opened, and out stepped Jo. She was speaking to someone else who followed her out, a nervous-looking senior boy. Up close, Grant could finally get a good look at her: dark brown hair in a cut-short ponytail, hazel eyes, and a light tan to her fair complexion. She was maybe five-ten, if he had to guess, with a slim body and breasts to rival Cara's.

She finished speaking and turned to go down the front stairs, but froze when she made eye contact with Grant. Without thinking about it, he combed his fingers through his hair, and then inwardly cursed himself for being such a fool.

"You're the guy who was staring at me earlier," Jo said. Her voice was low, and Grant had trouble telling if she was angry with him.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, it's just that Andy was pointing you out and--"

Without warning, she put her finger to his lips, a dangerous grin on her face. "I like you already, new guy. Takes balls to put eyes on me."

She pushed past him, the other boy following. Grant stared after her, utterly confused as to how in blazes she could have arrived at such a conclusion. As he opened and closed his mouth like a fish, watching Jo and her attendant walk away, Cara put a hand on his shoulder.

"Ooooh," she practically swooned. "You must be something extra special. Jo doesn't usually take an interest in guys...or anyone." She leaned in close, whispering into his ear. "My advice: play the submissive and eat her out. She likes to be in charge."

Grant's eyes were practically balloons as she clapped him on the back and strode off.

---

Arnold both liked and disliked the design for the mess hall: it was a circular building, two stories high, with the kitchen underneath the second-floor dining area, which was reserved for seniors. All the juniors had to eat in the first-floor dining court, in front of the kitchen. At least the entire front wall was a series of bay windows, providing a great view.

"I fucking love this macaroni," Matt said, gobbling it eat as if he were eating for the first time in months. "Homemade is the best kind." He washed it down with the camp's own apple cider, which Arnold thought wasn't entirely bad.

Arnold snorted loud enough to make the kids at the next table turn around in bewilderment. "Better finish up, then, 'cause it's almost time to get up to the Big House for roll call."

Matt rolled his eyes and swallowed the last of his meal. "I don't get what the hurry is. You're really on edge."

Arnold shook his head. "I don't know, man. It's this place. I can feel it in my bones. Like I should be ready for anything."

"Oh please, you're huge. You are ready for anything."

The fuzzy-headed boy frowned. "Am not. I look just like any other kid my age."

"Yeah, well, you're huge compared to me. I'm a goddamn scarecrow." He licked the disposable fork and spoon. "Guess that's why I eat so much."

Arnold couldn't resist. "Should eat a bowl of dicks. Lots of protein for strong muscles."

Matt exploded with laugher, rocking back in his chair and getting the attention of everyone around them. "Yes!" he howled. "Yes, I should eat a bowl of dicks!"

Arnold clapped his hand over his face.

On the second floor, the seniors had stopped their own conversation, listening with interest as they leaned over the balcony's railing. After the pair had quieted down, they huddled together at the large table, anticipation glinting in their eyes.

"Those two will have to be treated special," a hulking black-haired boy named Kyle said. "I want the skinny one. Any objections?"

A less-muscled boy raised his hand. "I want in on that. He's hungry for dicks, and mine's just the thing he needs."

"R-remember," piped up Colton, the nervous boy who'd hurried over after Jo had finished needing him. "That one boy, Grant, is off-limits. Jo's orders."

Everyone, boy and girl alike, gave a "Yeah, yeah" and a shake of the head.

"I like the girl Nancy," a voluptuous blonde named Penny added. "I'll take her all by myself."

"Does it really matter who picks who?" asked Jasmine. "They're all going to be more than a little horny, thanks to the aphrodisiacs in the food. We could just fuck them at random and the result would be the same. The primer in the drinks will even get the job done once we pair up, so we don't even need the love potion."

"I'm tempted to eat some," the boy sitting next to her said, and was punched on the shoulder by the person on his other side.

"You're horny enough, Tyler," chided Kyle. "We don't need to make you any randier."

They all shared a laugh at that, and then put their hands over each other's in several spots down the table's length.

"For Father!" they all chanted softly.

---

Nightly roll call came by faster than expected. The sun was almost gone, with just enough natural light that they didn't just yet need to turn on the lamp posts (which were few enough). All the same, the Big House's were turned on so that Jo could see everyone and tick them off her roll sheet. The juniors had all been assembled in loose rows at the building's front, the seniors ringing them in a large semi-circle. In total, there were 30, but only a dozen were girls.

Once she'd made sure they were all present, Jo gave them a brief overview of the next day's events, which included receiving a load of 50 pumpkins in the morning, which would be carved out with pre-selected designs and then given over to a pick-up driver for delivery to the district's schools; the daily chores would be put on hold, save for food, since they would all still need to eat.

"Aside from that, there isn't really anything else, so you're all dismissed for the night," Jo informed them, and sighs of relief broke out, everyone smiling as they broke their sloppy ranks to mingle excitedly. "Except for you." She pointed to Grant, who looked borderline horrified at being singled out. "There's information missing from the medical file your parents sent in. Need you to have a look at it."

The confused youth followed her and the other seniors inside, and the crowd eagerly dispered.

The Big House's interior was nicely furnished, with rugs, chairs, couches, a big-screen HDTV, DVD/Blu-ray player, various gaming systems, and a brand-new radio/music center, all crammed into the main room. The far back had a small kitchen area, and to the left was a flight of stairs leading to the upper levels. All the seniors had crowded the entire space, chowing down on potato chips, guzzling from beer steins of the fancier variety, and rooting for either player one or two, both of whom had resumed a furious battle in some anime-themed imported fighting game. It was exactly as his father had described a typical frat house.

Jo tossed her clipboard to a boy who caught it without looking up from his Popular Mechanics issue, and she then took Grant's hand and led him to the stairs.

"Wait," he said, resisting a bit. "We're not going to actually examine my medical records?"

She stared at him. "You actually believed that?"

He nodded.

She rolled her eyes. "Boys are so dumb sometimes."

Another senior with a stein in each hand came over, handing her one. The thing was topped off, the liquid (which Grant caught a whiff of, and decided it was apple cider) sloshing onto Jo's shoes and the carpet; she didn't seem to care as she chugged her drink, wiping her mouth on her forearm once it was all down the hatch. Grant could barely keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Outside, she had been stern and diligent, but inside, she had the mannerisms of an animal!

She also tossed that item to the reading boy, who again caught it without pausing. Reclaiming Grant's hand, she ignored his weak cries of protest, all but hauling him up the stairs. They turned off at the first landing, which told Grant that the lone door that the rest of the stairs led to at the top was the attic entrance. Before pulling the boy into her room, Jo yelled up at the door in a language he didn't understand. She pushed him inside and locked the door behind her.

"Off with the clothes and on the bed," she ordered, her voice strict.

Cara was right, Grant thought, doing as he was told. She loves being in charge. Once he was in the buff, she led him to the bed and had him stretch out on it, securing his ankles and wrists with bondage straps and cuffs.

"Is that really necessary?" he asked, his stomach knotting at the idea of being so helpless.

She laughed. "You'll love it." Without another word, she slipped a sleeping blindfold over his eyes and stepped back, admiring him. He was perfectly fit and healthy, and his growing erection promised her everything else she desired.

Grinning, Jo removed her own clothing. The "cider" she'd downed on the first floor wasn't necessary to change, but it certainly greased the wheels. She didn't even close her eyes as her bones softly began popping, a coat of fur spreading all over her naked form. Her nails darkened and became pointed, both on her hands and toes. Her mouth darkened and pushed out to form a muzzle as her teeth were sharpened into fangs. Her hair shifted into a thick mane as her ears widened considerably. Behind her, at the top of her anal crack, a tail, black and bushy and short, sprouted, thrashing from side to side, relishing its freedom.

When her transformation was complete, she stood an inch taller, and no longer resembled a human girl: she had become an anthro hyena. Most of her fur was sandy, but her forearms, lower legs, a muzzle were black, and she had black spots all over. As a final touch, the bottoms of her feet had soft leathery pads.

Jo licked her black lips in anticipation, one hand teasing a black nipple and the other teasing her black slit, which had grown incredibly wet.

With a growl, she climbed onto the bed, ignoring Grant's inquiries of why it felt like she had a fur coat on when she brushed against him. Her cunt was sopping, aching with need, and she straddled the young man and didn't hesitate in sheathing him inside herself. As he threw back his head, gasping with pleasure, she closed her eyes, hissing in relief as his manhood filled her.

---

For his part, Felix couldn't wait to get back to the privacy of his cabin. His roommate was way behind him, chatting with another boy. That was fine; it would give Felix all the time he needed.

He figured that something was wrong during the roll call: pretty much every last one of the other junior counselors seemed to be squirming, as if they wanted to high-tail it out of there, and it wasn't just from being under Jo's watchful eye. Hell, Felix himself had practically broken into moans and gyrations! He didn't know what could be wrong with him.

He reached the cabin and raced to his bed, pulling out his suitcase from underneath. The Latino boy immediately stripped, including his underwear, and, grabbing his blue silk pajamas (and the special item hidden within them), moved into the bathroom, locking the door.

With deep, excited breaths, he unfurled his sleepwear. The silk itself was not only lovely, but incredibly soft and smooth to the touch; wearing it greatly turned him on.

More important than that, though, was the special item: a frilly, shiny copper thong. The garment was a sissy thong meant for girls to wear, but Felix, who had a hairless and incredibly feminine body, had purchased it online for himself. His parents hadn't paid much heed to his eBay goings-on, which was why he'd managed to gather up a good collection of lingerie; he'd even snagged a latex Japanese school swimsuit. The copper thong before him, however, was easily his favorite garment.

It wasn't just the crossdressing that aroused him: he knew he was genuinely gay. He wanted a man to make him suck his cock, to fondle his privates, to bend him over and make him squeal with pleasure from a thorough fucking.

Already hard, Felix slipped the thong on, absolutely loving how the tip of his dick peeked out over the top. It even had a little drop of pre-cum bubbling out!

The youth closed his eyes and turned around, looking over his shoulder to admire his tight little butt in the mirror. He gave himself a slap on the cheek, his cock twitching and throbbing in response. That was his cue to start stroking himself through the front of his thong. He was becoming so aroused, the pleasure so good, that he had to keep a hand over his mouth, lest he give himself away once his roommate returned.

---

The Big House's attic door opened...and its lone occupant stepped out.

He made no sound as he descended the stairs, and even if he had made a few creaks, Jo's hard riding of her chosen one was enough to mask anyone's movements.

None of the seniors playing around downstairs were aware of his descent, but once he reached the foot of the stairs, a strange calm overcame the entire room. The gamers paused their session, and there was no eating or drinking or joking. Not even one of them dared look in his direction, let alone straight at him, as if he'd take exception to it.

"Good evening, children," he said, his rich, smoothly-accented voice filling the room.

"Good evening, Father," they chorused. It would not do to be disrespectful, not to this one.

The figure came over to them, picked up a stein and sniffed it. He frowned. "I can't say that you chose a classy delivery system. Cider is too crude to be considered a regal drink, and that 'macaroni' is disgusting." He sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever happened to real food and drink? To real feasts?"

"I'm sorry, Father," Cara apologized. "The cider was easy to make, and most everybody loves mac-and-cheese. We put everything in there because they're popular enough that we wouldn't have needed anything else."

He chuckled and went to her, reaching a clawed hand down to gently stroke her cheek. She froze at the act.

"I'm not angry, daughter, but rather wistful. It's just not the old days anymore."

"But it'll still be fine, Father," Axel, a blond boy, assured the figure. "You won't have to worry about the gods anymore."

The figure snorted. "Don't be a fool, boy. The gods are as dangerous and powerful as ever, and even with all this time, I'm no closer to being at peace than I was when the King of Heaven cursed me." He turned to face the front door. "You really should get to work. Bring me your new brothers and sisters." He tightened his fists hard enough that the knuckles cracked. "Bring me my new sons and daughters."

Immediately, everyone stripped, clothes being removed with wild abandon. Once disrobed, they all embraced the change, their bodies overcome with fur, their faces warped with muzzles, and their asses adorned with tails. Though they all resembled their father in a fashion, none of them could compare to his incredible presence, nor could they rival his looks.

They all bounded out the door, racing to the cabins and the residents within.

---

Felix hurriedly wiped himself off. Terry, his roommate, had just woken up from the sound of it, and surely was going to come to the bathroom. THe Hispanic boy's mind raced with nervousness.

Upon pressing his ear to the door, however, he heard some strange noises, as if Terry'd started jumping on his bed. Confused, Felix opened the door and stepped out, completely forgetting to put on his pajamas.

What he found made him freeze in place, standing there in his sissy thong, gazing wide-eyed straight ahead: Terry, the brown-haired boy he was staying with, was on his knees on his bed, hungrily sucking off the cock of a well-muscled humanoid wolf that towered over him, standing beside the bed. Terry had no clothes on, his ass teasing Felix to further levels of arousal as his head bobbed up and down on the beast's member. Their small cabin was filled with lewd slurping and gulping sounds as Terry continuously coaxed more milk from his canine lover.

"T...Terry?" Felix squeaked out, rooted to his spot, unable to look away. He couldn't understand why, but the more he watched, the more he envied his roomy; he wanted a tasty cock in his mouth, damn it!

The crossdresser had been so absorbed by the passionate oral display that he didn't notice when another werewolf, who had been standing outside the bathroom, waiting to ambush him on his way out, came up behind him. The furred male put his arms around the human, massaging his chest with one hand while sliding his other over the boy's crotch, eliciting soft gasps and weak moans. His back pressed against the creature, Felix could tell he was ripped, and began squirming against him.

"Jealous, hmm?" the wolf asked quietly into Felix's ear, and the youth nodded emphatically. "Then let's have some fun."

He guided his smooth-skinned paramour to the bed, roughly pushing him half onto it. Seeing that the boy was getting excited from being used in such a crude fashion, the wolf gripped Felix's hips and began grinding his dripping cock against the lad's crack, the hot length sliding up and down the youth's valley. The hefty organ was a mixture of human and canine, having much of the appearance of the former and the bulging knot of the latter.

"Aaaah! Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!"

Felix's body felt like it was on fire. His skin was burning hot, his head was pounding as if it held his heart and not his brain, his blood was rushing wildly, and his cock -- oh god, his cock! It was in such desperate need of a hot, wet mouth or asshole, his balls aching with their desire to release the churning cum within! Hell, he'd even stick it in a girl's pussy if he could just get off!

"P-p-p-p-please!" he begged, his voice cracking with lust. He tried to thrust his hips back against the wolf, but his attempts were weak, his legs barely supporting him; if it wasn't for being halfway onto his bed, he'd have collapsed onto the floor.

"Hm? 'Please' what?" his molestor asked coyly.

"Please, please fuck me!" Felix yelled. "Please make me your cum-slut! I want to be your bitch!"

The werewolf threw his head back, roaring with amusement. Luckily for Felix, he at least kept grinding. After calming down, the beast leered at him as if he had turned into a big, blood-soaked steak.

"Oh, if you want it so badly, I'll give it to you," he growled. He repositioned them so that Felix was on all fours on the bed and he was on his knees. Pulling the thong aside, he grinned. "Here you go, bitch."

He lined up and thrust completely into Felix in a single go, his 7-inch-long, nearly-2-inch-girth stretching the boy's ass wide; only his knot was outside. Felix went rigid at the intrusion, his mind going blank. Ignoring the lack of response from his human partner, the wolf quickly developed a fast pace, plunging in and out of the virgin asshole with ruthlessness. The copious amounts of pre he'd leaked while grinding had made entering easy enough, and he was still well-lubed. His meat tortured the boy's anal walls, the head of his cock jabbing against Felix's prostate even as his balls slapped against the human's. His hips pounded Felix's soft ass-cheeks until they were a cherry red.

Thanks to excessive practice, the wolf was capable of heavily ejaculating several times; for Felix, the same result would be achieved through the aphrodisiac he'd ingested earlier.

The wolf could feel his climax approaching rapidly, and hammered into Felix as fiercely as possible, paying no attention to the other's cries of pain. On his last thrust, he pushed as deep into him as he could, almost his entire mighty cock inside the boy's abused asshole, and held their pelvises together. His dick swelled and his thick, ropey cum flooded into the smaller male, filling him.

Felix's own climax hit him hard. His cock spasmed, a jet of cum streaking along his chest and splattering him all over his face before trailing the bed. A second gush joined it on the now-soaked covers. Spent for the moment, his cock retreated into the confines of his thong.

The wolf withdrew and Felix collapsed, panting with exhaustion. But the fun wasn't over just yet: the hairy creature rolled the boy onto his back and grabbed his ankles, lifting them up and forward until Felix was practically folded over. The black-haired boy blinked as the wolf did this, and his eyes went wide, sensual hunger glinting in them, as the sexual predator smiled at him. Growing aroused again, Felix grew hard, but this time his rod failed to slip out, straining against its lingerie prison and darkening the front greatly.

"More," the werewolf said huskily before sliding inside again.

Across the room, his mouth and chin and chest and thighs coated with wolf seed, Terry gulped down most of his own lover's fifth load.

---

Arnold, Matt, and a couple of the girls ran for the mess hall like the Devil himself was after them.

The cabins weren't entirely soundproof, and the howls of both the werewolves and the screams of their victims had woken people up just enough that they were able to fight back a bit, and even allowed some of them to run for it.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Matt shrieked.

They were all in their underwear, the girls in bras and either panties or a G-string, Arnold in a T-shirt and boxers, and Matt in his socks and a Joe Boxer brand thong. The night air was still warm, and if it wasn't for being chased by rape-hungry monsters, they'd all have laughed at how ridiculous it was for them to be racing naked around camp.

The quartet had barely reached the front doors, which were thankfully unlocked, when a wolf tackled one of the girls to the ground. The other three screamed and practically leaped inside, locking themselves in and praying that the monsters wouldn't risk broken glass everywhere by smashing their way in.

"Help me!" Nancy shrieked. Her brown eyes were wild with fear and her long, curly orange hair splayed about on the ground.

The others watched as the werewolf who had tackled her, also a busty female, cut off any more cries for assistance or mercy by mashing her mouth to Nancy's. It hadn't seemed possible, but the orange-haired girl's eyes went even rounder as the monster's tongue thoroughly explored every crevice of her oral cavity, slathering her own tongue and teeth and gums with a thick coating of canine saliva.

"Oh, my god..." rasped Arnold as Nancy's eyes went half-lidded.

She stopped struggling against her assailant and, once the she-wolf released her wrists, grabbed hold of her shoulders, pulling her close as she moaned into their kiss, grinding her hips against the werewolf's.

"Holy fuck," Matt gaped. "They're turning everyone into heat-crazed sex slaves!"

A quick glance beyond the lesbians in front of them offered a truly frightening sight: ringing the lake were just about all the junior campers and their lupine molestors. Every single one was engaged in some intense sexual act or another, howling, moaning, and drooling both saliva and reproductive juices. Some of the wolves were double-teaming their human targets.

"We are not going home, guys," Arnold said, voice cracking with despair.

In front of them, the she-wolf was on her back, legs spread wide as Nancy ravenously devoured her soaking-wet snatch. The canine was savagely fondling one of her own breasts while her free hand pressed Nancy's face into her cunt as much as could be managed, bucking her hips to aid in the pursuit of gratification.

"I can't take it anymore!"

Both boys jumped out of their skin as Mel, the black-haired girl who'd been locked in with them, screamed her desperation. Before they could stop her, she unlocked the door and threw it wide open, hauling ass towards one of the male wolves, tearing away her bra in the process but not bothering with her G-string. The lupine barely had time to pull out of his last conquest, who lay on the ground with generous amounts of jizz leaking from her pussy, when Mel leaped onto him.

They both hit the dirt, the girl forcing their lips together, shoving her tongue into his mouth. He responded with alacrity, cruelly kneading and slapping her ass and rocking his pelvis. Mel broke the kiss and lifted herself up, yanking her underwear aside but not caring to spread her lower lips before impaling herself upon the werewolf's cock, sinking all the way down to the top of his knot. Her head lolled back and she moaned like a slut, her hips rolling back and forth instinctively.

"SHIT!" yelled Matt as four of the anthropomorphic animals quickly slipped inside. Two of them grabbed Arnold, pulling him away and shredding his shirt and boxers, forcing him into a kiss. As he relaxed a bit, they bent him over, one taking him in each hole, spit-roasting him on their thick cocks. From the way he moaned around the malehood in his mouth and the way he held tight to the hips of that wolf, he was already enjoying it.

"Your turn, sexy," the wolf in front of him grinned.

Behind him was the last werewolf, holding Matt's hands together over his head. The wolf in front, who possessed of a perfectly-honed physique, licked the crotch of Matt's thong teasingly before pulling it down and off him, tossing it aside.

"Shoulda just ripped it," chided the rear wolf.

The front one snorted. "It's a perfectly good brand, and I like thongs." He jerked a clawed thumb at the other three. "Let's show them how it's done."

He moved in close to Matt and gently cupped his chin, and, gentle as could be, locked lips with him. Matt offered no resistance to the wolf's invasive organ, letting it explore and even responding with his own a bit. As he did so, the primer he'd drunk earlier activated. His fears and reluctance vanished, replaced utterly by feelings of security, comfort, and carnal lust. He began to react more strongly to his furry lover, even going so far as to push forward with his hips, his now-rock-hard dick bumping against the other's.

The wolf broke off, smiling in satisfaction. "Glad to see you're coming to your senses. Let's step things up."

As if on cue, the other wolf hoisted Matt up a couple inches from the floor. Both creatures pressed their bodies against his, their dicks oozing pre as Matt was lowered onto both at once. The human's eyes and mouth went wide, his body shivering all over with sensual thrill as both wolves' cockheads were forced past his anal ring. The second wolf released the boy's hands and he slumped forward, head over the first wolf's shoulder as he weakly clutched the muscled being.

The fucking commenced in earnest: both werewolves punished the human's rear entrance ferociously. At first their thrusts were in sync, entering to their knots and exiting to their heads together. The longer the assault went on, however, the more their thrusts went out of tune with each other, adopting a new pattern: one went in while the other went out. It providing the feeling of being given an infinite single ramming, as if Matt's tender asshole received but did not release.

The boy writhed in their grip, moaning loudly and lewdly, his eyes glazing over. He spasmed every few moments, the ecstasy shooting through him like jolts of electricity. He didn't want it to end, not ever!

"Need! More!" growled the front wolf.

He took a very firm hold of Matt's shoulders, and the rear wolf, getting the hint, did the same to Matt's hips. Simultaneously, they pulled their human companion down while thrusting up as fiercely as their strength allowed them. Matt's eyes ballooned and he let out a wailing cry of joy as both knots, which amounted to a combined bulge the size of a swollen orange, were roughly jammed into his ass. His rectal walls clenched tightly down on the intruders far more so than they had earlier, and his prostate was brushed against so harshly that he couldn't keep it in anymore.

His body seized up and his cock erupted. Blasts of white cum impacted against the abs, chest, and then the face of the front wolf, who opened wide to catch some in his mouth, savoring the flavor. Matt fell back against the chest of the second wolf, a final splurt managing to hit the latter's mouth, giving him a meager taste of what his partner received.

At the same time, both weres had come, their essence filling Matt's ass up to bursting with hot male-milk; he could even feel the temperature of his ass rise sharply just from the boiling hot fluids.

Both wolves withdrew, letting their human fuck-doll drop onto his knees, the impressive deposit they'd just finished giving him gushing out and spreading across the floor in a large ivory pool, drawing deep breaths from the taxing session.

...And then blinking in surprise as they both offered him their still-stiff frosted cocks, drops of cum mixing with fresh pre and steadily dripping from their slits, their faces adorned with lustful predatory smiles.

"Now let's see if you can suck two off at once," the first wolf leered.

"I wanna see if I can get my knot in his throat," the other said, licking his lips.

---

Jo was bucking against Grant so hard he thought his pelvic bone was going to crack.

The entire session, once she'd plunged down onto him, she never got off. She had bucked, snarled, moaned, gasped, and even laughed a bit. The tremendous heat of her body, a heat boosted by the strange fur the seemed to completely cover her form, had pushed his own to sweat profusely. Underneath him, the bed was soaked, the worst spot being beneath their joined crotches, where vaginal and seminal fluids mixed with the sweat. Neither paid that particular issue any mind, though, as Jo was too focused on the sex and Grant was, while also sexually attentive, worried for his new lady-friend.

Her costume (what he assumed was a full-body fursuit, some kind of fetish), along with her animalistic sounds, alarmed him even as though aroused him. Sure, this was a fun, new experience for him...but he didn't want to end up covered in cuts from her "claws" and he certainly didn't want her to do worse. He'd read old books detailing how some New Age groups meditated themselves into believing they were wild animals and how they ended up savagely attacking their own friends.

"J-Jo!" he managed to force out between his pants and groans. "I think we should stop!" When she ignored him, pounding into him just as hard as ever, he tried raising his voice--

Only for her climax to hit with a bomb's blast. Her walls tightened almost to an extreme, forcing him past his own edge. Somehow, his cock managed to release its bounty, coating her insides while her own juices glazed his member. She'd squeezed the hell out of him with her legs when she hit her peak, freezing in position for a minute, the only sounds their dual cries of passion.

She collapsed onto him, her breathing ragged with exhaustion, her ample rack crushed against his chest, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. Grant sagged against his restraints, too drained to even begin to try and cuddle.

A desire Jo abruptly slapped down when she gave him a love bite, her teeth easily drawing a small amount of blood.

"Ah! Jo, damn it, what's with you?!" he demanded. "And for God's sake, why are you wearing--"

She sat up and slipped off his blindfold, letting him see her as she truly was.

"A...fur...suit..." he finished weakly.

All he could do was stare. Some small part of his mind kept insisting that it had to just be a costume, that certain home-spun attire could be Hollywood-quality in the hands of the truly creative and devoted.

...And yet, the subtle way her muscles shifted under her fur, from her soft breathing to her blinking, from her nostrils flaring as she sniffed and inhaled his scent to her eyebrows shifting ever so slightly, from her eyes being set just right and not sunken in to the way her ears twitched every several seconds...

It was real. All of it. One hundred and ten percent genuine.

He had just had incredible (if rather rough) sex with a hyena-woman.

"At least you aren't freaking out," Jo said, mistaking his lack of reaction. "I was expecting you to hit me and then tear your way free, running out into the woods naked while we all chased you down. Glad that's not happening."

It was strange, seeing and listening to her speak. Her lips and jaws and throat moved, the same as a person's would! Her voice sounded exactly the same, too!

While Grant was (barely) taking all of this in, Jo finally climbed off him, undoing his cuffs and slipping her hand into his. "Come on, I want you to meet our father."

"...What?" It was all he could manage to say.

She only smiled and tugged him along, tail happily swaying from side to side.

---

The campers were all engaged in a big orgy, humans and werewolves.

As Jo and Grant stood outside the Big House, comfortable both in their nudity and the warm night's air, they surveyed the grounds. The seniors were still ravaging the juniors, inducting them with carnal action into radical new lives, but instead of the nerve-wracking chases and screams of horror and general fear, the atmosphere was one of lust and physical gratification. Juniors, completely corrupted by both the aphrodisiacs and the sheer amount of sex, begged for more and almost greedily latched onto any senior within reach.

"Having sex with one of us results in a three-fourths chance of becoming one," Jo explained. "But that's if you don't release any fluids, including pre-cum. Otherwise, it's virtually guaranteed."

He looked at her. "Then why bite me?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, really. Call me old fashioned, call me sentimental, or call me a fool. Maybe I just plain wanted a surefire way to get you to be like me."

"A hyena? Not a werewolf?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you're a werehyena now. I'm a special case."

"She's a were_human_, to be precise."

Both turned at the new voice. Approaching from the lake was a tall man, easily six-foot-six, with a sculpted body that Arnold Schwarzenegger himself would approve of. He had a rich tan to his skin, and wore sandals of an ancient and simplistic design, an Egyptian male skirt of equally-ancient design, a heavy and flat necklace laced with fake precious stones, and gold armbands around his upper arms.

Most astounding of all was his head: it was a wolf's, completely animal whereas the rest of him was completely human. His fur was dark gray with some off-white along his muzzle and dominating his throat, and he had deep brown eyes.

Jo cleared her throat. "Grant, this is my father, and now yours as well. Father, this is Grant."

The wolf-headed man smiled, revealing glistening white fangs. "Ah, yes. My oldest daughter's mate." He extended a hand, clearly expecting the former human boy to shake it. "I am Lycaon, King of the Wolves."

As he shook the other's hand, Grant asked, "Lycaon? Why does that sound familiar?"

"Oh, you've probably heard werewolves more 'technically' referred to as lycanthropes. That the condition itself is called lycanthropy. It's all derived from my name. I was the first, thousands of years ago, back in Greece." He sighed, turning to watch his offspring's revelry. "I had 50 fine sons, and was a celebrated man. I built temples to the gods, and certainly the King of Olympus would visit my people from time to time.

"Often, he'd disguise himself to test how civil we were to our fellow man, but not always. As it was said that he was all-knowing, I thought to test him in turn about it when next he appeared. I got my chance, playing host to him for dinner one night. I had conceived that he would immediately know if a meal had a foul ingredient, and so I decided to prepare a small portion of human flesh, courageously given up by a son of mine, in the meal.

"Well, the Fates are cruel, and instead of merely being outraged at me, the Sky God saw fit to punish my entire family. I tried to beg mercy from him, insisting that the whole thing was my idea and that he should not slay my family because of something I had contrived.

"He would have none of it. Using those damned lightning bolts of his, he vaporized my sons and my wives, and brought down my entire palace. I still can't bear to think of all the servants who were senselessly killed. Naturally, the Sky God teleported himself away, and he brought me with him. Not done with me yet, he decreed that, as I had acted in the manner of a beast, so too would I appear in the form of one.

"He didn't even wave a hand, and I felt the burning pain of my head morphing into its current shape. I had to flee, because even if he hadn't shouted from on high that I was to be considered a villain forevermore, there was simply no way my kingdom would embrace a beast-headed man; that bloodthirsty bully, Minos, had seen to that with his Minotaur.

"So I fled, living in the wild and getting by. I've amassed quite the survival skills over the years, and honed my wolf's instincts to a fine point; the Sky God seemed to have made me immortal when he changed me. It helped to bear the pain when I met the rare man or woman who desired me despite my looks. In fact, many of them saw me as a blessing, a combination of man's strength with that of nature's. They certainly believed that rutting with me would make them better lovers and/or warriors, and I like to think their plans succeeded; not everyone can claim to have lain with one such as I.

"Of course, some of those lovers were not entirely human. Being not only a wolf-man but also the king of this new kind, I could mate with a surprising number of wild creatures, some of them 'mythological' like myself and some not. The results were always interesting: a humanoid baby that was more beast than human. I didn't get to raise all my post-dethroning offspring, which were created in a variety of ways -- drinking dew collected from my footprints, drinking waters I'd either bathed or pissed in, drinking a bit of my blood, wearing the pelt of a lupine lover, et cetera -- but I made sure to raise every single one of the little joys I did get my hands on."

He paused to put his arm around Jo's shoulders, and Grant could swear he saw her blush.

"My daughter here was conceived when I was in Africa, helping myself to the wealth of a pair of fueding warlords. Surely they had no need for such money: they slaughtered children with weapons purchased with those funds, whereas I created children. Jo's mother was a recent escapee of a wildlife preserve in Mozambique, and had traveled all about, getting more and more lost while trying to get back to her old home. I ran into her, we felt a kindling between us, and we mated."

He paused again, his features softening with sadness.

"She didn't survive childbirth, but I gave her a resting place and have raised our daughter ever since. In an inversion of how those who are initially human turn into wolves when infected with my essence, Jo turns from a hyena into a human. Unlike the old tales and horror films, a were can easily learn to change at will. Because of how prevalent humans are, she is constantly in her transformed state, only changing back when in the safety of her own home."

"And no, it doesn't tire me out to the point that I need an energy boost," Jo informed her mate. "This isn't a video game; I don't have a special energy bar or power-up time limit." She turned back to Lycaon. "Father...why are you dressed like that? The skirt, it's Egyptian, not Greek, and so is the necklace."

If Jo blushing was strange, Lycaon imitating a tomato was a flat-out mind-fuck. Grinning like a child, he answered, "Well, you know, it's Halloween, and I kind of wanted to go as Anubis, since I'm close enough to pass for a jackal. I think it's a good costume."

Jo shook her head, grinning right back.

Putting that matter aside, the Wolf King asked Grant, "Even though you've little choice at this point, you've heard the whole matter, and now I have to ask whether or not you'll come into our little fold. We are the farthest thing from monsters, you know."

Grant thought he'd hesitate more, that he'd argue that he had a life already and a family, but he recalled that his parents had provided almost no explanation whatsoever before shipping him off. Hell, he'd even said it himself: they wanted him gone.

He glanced into Jo's hopeful eyes before nodding. "I'll join. I'll accept you as my father."

Lycaon laughed, clapping his hands onto Grant's shoulder. "Wonderful! Come! Now that things are settling down, why don't we speak more comfortably inside? I have the most incredible collection of Laurel and Hardy comedies for us to watch. Jo prefers tragedies over comedies, but she's an old Greek maid ("Father!"), so what does she know?"

And in they went, talking more and more into the night.