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Wolfholme: Cole and Rod

Seven days will the town stand,

Then it will vanish without a sign on the land.

And to those who would enter, by design or by storm.

Will find its people welcoming and its beds very warm.

Enjoy plentiful food, drink water so pure.

But stay for too long and your fate is ensured.

In this town, seven days are all you have to roam.

A minute longer and consider this your new home.

*********

Day 5

*********

"Okay," Lincoln said, his hand on the ignition. He glanced up at Mark who gave him a thumbs up. "This is it."

He took a deep breath... and gave the ignition a twist.

The car gave a loud splutter.

"Damnit!" Lincoln growled and slammed his fists against the steering wheel.

The car suddenly roared to life.

"Oh my god!" he cried, throwing his hands up. "Oh my god! She lives!" He looked up at Mark, grinning broadly. "It's alive!"

"Cue the thunder and lightning," chuckled Mark, moving towards him. "Well done, babe."

"Couldn't have done it without you," answered Lincoln. He grinned broadly and gave the brawny farmer a light peck on the lips.

"Oh no," laughed Mark. "You're not getting away that easily." He seized the back of Lincoln's head and pulled him into a long, loving kiss, tongue shooting out and filling Lincoln's.

Lincoln could not help but smile and let out a soft hum of approval. His arm curled around Mark's waist and he pulled the mountain of muscle on top of himself, leaning back across the length of the car. It suddenly became _much_hotter in the car as both of their monster cocks began to rise in their pants. Mark's godly body pressed up against Lincoln supermodel physique with only their clothes barring pure contact.

Mark broke the kissed with a smirk. "What do you say we break the old girl in?"

"Shooting our load inside a woman?" Lincoln answered with a smirk. "We're not going to get her pregnant are we?"

That made Mark laughed and he poked Lincoln's forehead lightly. "Idiot." He leaned in for another kiss -

"Dad? Mr. Matthews?"

Both men's eyes went wide and Mark immediately sat up. His head banged against the ceiling of the car and he let out a low growl. Rubbing the back of his head, he slipped out of the car and straightened. Lincoln did the same, trying desperately to adjust the enormous tent that was forming in his pants. It took some effort but with some degree of willpower, he managed to lower his erection to a semi and slipped it down his left leg. Though the feeling of his hot manhood against his leg made him yearn for Mark's cock.

"Rod!" Lincoln exclaimed as he stood up, his full height just coming a little short of Mark's six foot ten. His son looked so small in comparison but he did take after his mother. "What's going on?"

Stan was with Roderick and amongst the three tall men, Roderick looked slightly out of place especially since the other three had large amounts of their body exposed. Both Stan and Lincoln wore denim overalls. Where the overalls had come from for Lincoln he wasn't sure but they were in the travel bag that he packed for the camping trip so he wasn't going to argue. He felt like he had always had it especially since it showed off the thick coat of chest hair that covered his sculpted pectorals and forearms.

Mark, hot as always, only had his tight-fitting, cut-off denim shorts that hugged his gloriously muscular thighs. Lincoln felt a bit of jealousy at how Mark's muscles seemed perpetually bulged and meaty while his tended to lose their 'pump'. Still, he was proud of this thick vein that rolled up from his bicep.

"You got it working!" Roderick exclaimed, bounding up to the car. "Wow, it looks good as new!"

It did indeed. Lincoln's baby was resurrected as a hot, red machine. It still had the same model - 1990's Nissan Maxima SE - but instead of being that dirty white, it was now a smoking hot red. It was to some embarrassment that Lincoln had opted for the hot red because... well, it reminded him of when Mark blushed and he found it cute whenever his boyfriend - was it right call Mark his boyfriend? - blushed. He wasn't sure if Mark knew that but just looking at the glistening paint started to get him hard again so he looked straight towards Roderick.

"When can we leave?" Roderick asked.

Stan looked crestfallen at Roderick's eagerness. Though he had prepared himself all last night and most of the day, Lincoln still felt the sting of finally letting go of Roderick hit extremely hard. He suddenly found his throat go really dry but he managed to say, "Well, today after Mark and I clean up this place for the owner."

"Well let me help then," Roderick suggested. "We can get it done all that faster."

"Nah, we've only got a few more rooms to do," replied Mark, placing a big hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "Why don't you pack and get ready?"

"You sure I can't help?"

Mark waved his other hand. "Naw. Go on you two and enjoy your last day together in Wolfholme. We'll finish up here."

Roderick shrugged. "Alright." He turned to Stan. "Mind if we head back and I pack? Then we can do whatever you want. Stan?"

The younger of the Matthews shook his head like he was knocking himself out of a revere. "Oh! Right! Right! Sure! Let's head back."

Watching his son turn around and start heading back to the two horses they had taken from the farm was like a bitter reminder of the future. In a few short hours, Lincoln would be watching his son walk away in very much the same way... but this time, they wouldn't be meeting up again in a few hours. It would practically be forever.

He'd have Mark but...

Suddenly, a big hand wrapped around his shoulder spun him around and Mark's big, blue eyes stared at him sharply. "You haven't spoken to Rod yet?"

"I didn't get the chance!" Lincoln protested. "I mean we fell asleep last night after we had sex!"

"What about this morning? At breakfast?" Lincoln averted his gaze. Mark held him tighter. "Cole, listen to me, you can't just drop this bombshell on your son. Not on the road, not when you get back to your house and certainly not as you're just about to leave."

Lincoln gave him a shrug. "Well what do we do now? It's too late. The car is fixed."

A strange gleam entered Mark's eyes. "Or is it?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"Or is it?" Mark insisted, releasing Lincoln's shoulders and moving towards the engine. "Here's what I'm thinking... We give the old girl some reason to not run. I dunno. Needs tires replacing, didn't put together the engine right or maybe we forget to set up the airbags or something. You can't drive without airbags."

Lincoln shook his head vigorously. "I'm a professional mechanic, Mark. How can _I_mess up putting together a car when I've been doing it my whole life? Plus, this is my baby! The car, I mean. Rod is smart. He'd be suspicious."

Mark frowned at him. "I thought you were a chef."

He smirked slightly. "You just call me a chef because I cook better than you."

"Well I'm neither a chef nor a mechanic and I helped." Mark picked up a wrench and held it over the running engine. "So..."

"Mark! No!"

The wrench dropped into the engine and the entire car jolted loudly. It spluttered and gasped, unleashing an unholy blast of black smoke. Mark backed away, eyes wide and an arm over his face. Panicked, Lincoln rushed towards his boyfriend, gripped him around the waist and pulled him into the house. A cloud of black smoke followed them but dissipated the farther they got into the house.

With some relief, he heard the car finally die just as they reached the smaller of the bedrooms, the one with the small depression for a bed. He turned to Mark, anger in his eyes.

"Are you crazy! The car could've blown up!"

"That's just in movies," said Mark with a shrug. "Besides, we're fine now, right? Plus we've got an excuse to keep you around longer and..." He jabbed a finger against Lincoln's chest. "... get you to talk to your son."

Lincoln groaned and turned around. In doing so, he caught sight of the room around him and he frowned. There were now bookshelves lining the walls and a big, broad corner desk with a hefty computer. From where he stood, he could see the large queen-sized bed sitting in the alcove with a big TV sitting at its base.

"Was this stuff always here?" he asked, waving a finger around.

"The owner probably started moving things in to make a better showing for the open house or something," Mark said with a shrug.

"And now it has some smoke damage." He rolled his eyes and strode back towards the garage. "Come on, the damage is done. Let's just get some work done."

"Are you going to talk to your son?"

Lincoln just let out a grumble, neither an approval or a rejection. Still, his heart was pumping in his chest in anticipation of the conversation he would have to have with Roderick.

******

When Roderick reached the Matthews' farmhouse, he heard Stan slam the door behind him.

"What the hell man?"

He turned around, fully expecting this conversation.

Stan looked pissed, thick eyebrows lowered and his lips pulled back in a snarl. "So we fuck and then just like that you want to leave?" The soon-to-be biochemist stomped his big foot and slammed his fist into the doorframe, cracking it slightly. "Fuck me! I finally open to a guy and _this_happens!"

Roderick held up his hands. "Listen -"

"What?" shouted Stan. "Am I still too hillbilly for you? For fuck's sake, man! I'm going to college and know how to kick a guy's ass in fucking CoD! What do I need to do? Put on a fucking suit and wear some shitty glasses?"

"No it's -"

"It's because I'm a farmboy, isn't it? You just can't get over the fact that I grew up and work on a farm. Fuck!"

Roderick closed the distance between them and seized Stan's right ear, causing him to yelp in pain. That pain quickly vanished, however as their lips met. He gently rolled his fingers along Stan's cheeks, gently caressing them. He broke the kiss a second later, Stan's temper ebbing for the moment.

"Listen, I don't want to leave," he said. "That was just for my dad's benefit. I know he's got a good job outside of town. Remember, he took me on this trip to 'bond' with me. How do you think he'd react if he learned I want to stay here with you?"

Stan blinked his beautiful, chestnut brown eyes. "Really? You want to stay here? With me?" A big goofy grin crossed his features. "Wow... I mean... Wow... Really?" He was starting to blush and straightened. "I... I have a boyfriend?"

"If I get to call you mine," answered Roderick with a smile.

"Hell yes!" Stan cried, wrapping his big arms around Roderick. He lifted the young man off the ground and spun him around wildly. Then he stopped abruptly. "Wait... But your dad is still going to leave. What are we going to do about that? He expects you to go with him."

Roderick nodded, a plan having already formed in his mind on his way back from where his dad was working. "Right. That's why, tonight, I'm going to go to the garage and sabotage the car."

Stan blinked. "What?"

"I just need more time to tell my dad I want to stay," Roderick said. "I mean, we had a pretty wild night last night and didn't get the chance," he added with a chuckle. "Come on, another day or two and I'll have worked up the courage to tell my dad I'm staying in Wolfholme with my boyfriend." He held out his hand. Stan grinned and gripped it tightly.

"You're a diabolical genius and I love you for that," laughed Stan. He quickly cast his gaze around. "Hey... Our dads are probably cleaning that farmhouse and won't be back for a while. What do you say we...?"

Roderick grinned and started pulling his all-too willing boyfriend up the stairs. They were in each other's arms and making out passionately by the time they were midway up the steps. He had to be at least a few steps ahead just so that their lips could meet evenly. When they reached the top, Stan swept up Roderick in his arms, his huge, vascular biceps holding him tightly and providing enough height for their lips to remain locked perpetually.

Stan followed the familiar path to his bedroom, deftly opening the door and carrying Roderick straight to his bed. Roderick let out a soft moan as his engorged cock rubbed against the fabric of his shorts. Teeth playfully gripped the edges of his shorts, the growl that rippled from Stan's throat giving rise to Roderick's lust.

Both young men were already extremely hard. Stan's cock was at full mast, making a visible bulge in his overalls. A flood of precum was pouring out of the tip and soaking the fabric to such an extent that some was already dropping down onto Roderick's shirt. Roderick eagerly reached up towards Stan's buckles, unlatching them and allowing his larger man to wiggle out of the denim.

He had to break the contact when Stan pulled his shirt over his head but the moment he was free, he dove straight back towards that big, pink target, breathing in Stan's musky scent and letting it fill him. He was taking long, deep breaths and above him, Stan was sucking lungful's of air that inflated his huge, chest. His hard abdominals flexed for Roderick, the young man rubbing his hands all over their hard ridges, always brushing against Stan's erect two foot cock that covered them both with a venerable sea of precum.

The scent of Stan's arousal and musk triggered a wild side in Roderick he never knew he had. He dove straight from Stan's hot, pink nipples, erect and plump as they were. The flesh between his lips, to have some part of Stan in him, was indescribable. A moan rose from his throat as his face pressed against a hard plateau of muscle that was firm and truly ripped. Getting that growl of approval from Stan only urged him on.

Neither male noticed when the fog began creeping into the room, filling the house and summoned by their lust. It crept up to the two, gently curling its ghostly tendrils around them, pulling them closer and closer together.

Under some strange compulsion or perhaps his own lust, Stan reached around Roderick's back and seized the young man's shorts. With a mighty growl, he tore the fabric from Roderick's ass, literally splitting it in two. When their two cocks pressed against one another and Stan's cock began drooling precum all over Roderick's lower body, the fog pushed itself into the lungs of both boys.

With each of Roderick's deep, heavy gasps, his lust grew. His cock was painfully erect, the massive balls once again churning into overdrive as they sent messages throughout his entire body. Every muscle, every bone, organ and inch of flesh began shifting and twisting, eating away at what made him Roderick Heath and replacing him with a version that fit the town of Wolfholme.

Stan's back arched, his lips peeling apart to form the words, "Feed the Need".

Roderick's adoration of Stan's body continued. Some distant part of him knew something was wrong especially when the plump muscle beneath his lips began to gyrate and swell, pushing him further and further away. His roving fingers that eagerly took in the shape and size of each of Stan's abdominal muscles vaguely registered how every block of muscle tensed and seemed to grow bigger, the valleys between each peak growing bigger and thicker. Even when the fur began springing out from around Stan's nipples and tingling Roderick's tongue, the young man did not notice.

For his part, Stan snapped and snarled, his voice dropping many octaves with the expanding of his neck. His words were momentarily twisted into a mix of growls and howls with the transformation of his face into the cute, stubbly farmboy into the manly beast of a wolf. He bucked his hips when his face reached the peak of its transformation and he gazed down at Roderick with bright, feral, yellow eyes.

Gently, he reached up to his boyfriend - no, his mate, his fingers twitching as they transformed. Even the euphoria of the transformation was secondary to the feeling of love he got from Roderick. As his pecs swelled and blocked his vision of Roderick's beautiful eyes, he gripped his mate with his transformed paws, gently prising the boy away from his erect nipples.

Roderick met his gaze with half-glazed eyes.

"Rod..." he began.

"You're so fucking beautiful," came the reply. Rod immediately fell back into the bed and out of some instinct, he lifted his legs, offering his virgin ass to the monstrous wolf hovering over him.

Stan growled as his fur began rolling up his uncut cock to form his sheath. The few seconds when he waited for the member to fully transform was agony. Even longer was the few moments when his sheath pulled away from his erect cock, revealing his lupine member ready to spill its seed into Rod.

Even as his body was still shifting and changing, Stan leaned in over Rod, the boy's legs curling around his shoulders and pulling them as close as possible. His cock didn't need any guidance as it zeroed in on Rod's ass and shot wave after wave of hot precum at the pink target. They both shivered when his cock pushed into Rod's tight pucker. The flood of precum filled Roderick quicker than either boy anticipated but that only made Stan's entry all the smoother as the big wolf began to use his thickening and bulging legs to push himself deeper and deeper into his mate.

The two foot member was naturally too big for Rod's small frame but with his balls going into overdrive and every breath he took invaded by the fog, that was quickly being fixed. Rod squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his head back, pure pleasure shooting throughout his entire body as his balls devoured his current form. What was eaten and converted into seed was replaced by what the fog gave.

Like watching a monitor change pixel by pixel, his pale flesh was replaced by taut, bronzed skin. The weak, thin veins that fuelled his body were forced to grow and push against the newly replaced skin. Small, lean muscles lost their years of experience in agile sports such as soccer and athletics, replacing them with the thick, plump muscles of a boy who lived, breathed and _became_football and hockey. His arms and chest swelled, thick muscles pushing against Stan's. Their raw nipples brushed against one another, shooting new waves of pleasure through them both. Rod's grip around Stan's shoulders with his legs grew stronger as his thighs and calves ballooned out. His feet became ridiculously small for his growing physique so his balls immediately went to work eating away at the men's size sevens and made sure that they were colossal size twelve.

But that just made him look squat and short. So his balls began eating away at the years of surfing the web and the beginnings of bad posture later in age with a painfully straight back that grew and stretched to make Rod a colossal six foot seven, just an inch taller than Stan. The straight, brown hair that he never cared for obtained a life of their own as it grew and lashed out into, carefully styled, sweeping waves that angled towards the front of his head, almost making it look like he had a horn.

Rod moaned loudly as his new form came to accommodate Stan's cock more and more but it was still far from taking everything. Not yet, there was not enough power there and his balls gurgled in disappointment. Still, they began working on more important things; his memories.

Rod he arched his back, his arms lashing out and holding Stan's thick arms against himself. His right shoulder began to prickle as the tight, muscular flesh there began to change colour. Traces of ink began to push itself into the surface as a tattoo designed with the Ultima Acadamaie logo took shape. He loved the college after all. It had been his dream to attend UA and now that he was in, he made sure everyone knew about it.

Even more so since that was where he met Stan.

That one thought alone pushed away all resistances he may have had to the change. In response, his cock surged up another four inches, giving him a nice, plump sixteen inches. The exposed helmet of his human cock was quickly consumed by his foreskin. He was never circumcised.

Stan suddenly let out a howl and his cum exploded deep into Rod, hot seed spilling into the transforming young man's ass. Rod's balls almost wailed in despair as the shock sent its own load exploding out of Rod's sixteen inch member, spilling what made Roderick Heath out onto the chiselled, clean chest of Rod. There was so much cum from both boys that the bed became soaked and Rod's ass began squirting back some of Stan's load even with Stan still in him.

Both men collapsed into each other's arms, Stan inadvertently slipping out of Rod. That moment of separation was too much for both of them and the farmer immediately curled his arms around the rising football player, the two of them spooning with their eyes firmly shut and content smiles on their features.

The fog retreated and as it left, it took the large amounts of cum spilled by both boys with it. The aftermath of its presence was soon felt all over Wolfholme.

First, Stan's room changed and shifted. Lonely pictures of him in his younger years standing out on the farm by himself in front of this horse or that fence were replaced by images of another young man with bright, brown eyes grinning at the camera right beside him. A retired football jersey was mounted on the wall from the days in high school where he had played alongside Rod. An entire cabinet downstairs was dedicated just for his victories alongside his boyfriend though they had not realised their affections for one another until college when Rod had vaguely considered going to Hartsteilm instead of UA and the two had an argument about it which resulted in their confessing their feelings for one another and their first time together.

To fit this change, the high schools where they had attended miraculously obtained records of Rod attending and everyone in town just suddenly _knew_Rod. They knew he was one of the football crazy kids that spent every night either watching reruns of great games, playing videogames about football or hosting parties at his place to watch the latest game. The forms for his enrolment into UA was filed away and computer records were immediately altered; tuition paid and his course in personal training set and ready for the new semester.

Perhaps the most evident change was in the farm next to the Matthew's residence.

Mark noticed how the smaller room began to change. The books on the shelves shifted and changed like they were made out of putty, replacing them with fitness magazines, playbooks and biographies of great football players. A bed appeared in the small depression stinking of sex and posters of great football players began spreading across the walls. The computer on its desk was replaced entirely by a massive TV screen hooked up to a computer. Two beanbag chairs sat at the centre of the room, angled towards the screen.

"Hey, I'm done in the lounge," shouted Lincoln. "Need any help in there?"

Mark smiled and glanced over his shoulder at where the young mechanic-slash-chef was carrying the vacuum cleaner towards him. He intercepted Lincoln, and took the cleaner from him. "Nah, I got this. Why don't you work in the cellar or something?"

Lincoln, oblivious to the change, shrugged and turned around.

When Mark turned around, he spied the door leading into the room.

It was marked with the words 'Rod's Room' in big, red letters.

He smiled.

*********

That night, Rod had tried to curb his excitement when he learned that Cole and Mark hadn't had made as much progress as they had first assumed. The car encountered some 'unforseen difficulties' and it seemed that they would be stuck in Wolfholme for a little longer.

When it finally came for bed, he took his six foot plus frame up the stairs. Cole gave him a kiss on the forehead just to bid him good night while his father went back down to the lounge room to watch some TV with Mark. Cole even gave Stan a hug goodnight which no one regarded as odd. Neither boy could wait until eleven that night and eagerly jumped into the one bed.

Down at the first floor, Mark tried to play coy with Lincoln but the latter was is no mood for being playful and remained sorely focused on the television. His stomach constantly churned with the thought of confessing the truth to his son. Though he was heartened to see Rod being so comfortable around Stan, he feared Rod had forgotten he was going to college elsewhere. He didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, to remind Rod of his obligations to another school they had already paid for and to add further insult to injury by telling his son that he was staying for Mark...

That night, only one of the two couples made love.

Though the fog visited the slumbering home again that night, Lincoln remained wide awake throughout the night and on the couch, being unable to sleep. Even when Mark who had slept beside him began to jack off, he could not get himself to grow aroused.

Especially when Mark began whispering those three words that made Lincoln's heart go cold.

'Feed the Need.'

*********

Day 6

*********

Mark was out to grab more junk to replace the engine that he had devastated the previous day. In the meantime, Lincoln was picking apart the engine, drawing on his years of engineering experience to select the best salvageable parts. Most of it was usable. Just a few key components were busted beyond repair.

Despite the 'setback', he now had some more time to describe his situation to his son.

Though how could anyone realistically tell their son that they were leaving for a man? Or rather that they were going to let them go to a far off college and had let go of their previous separation anxiety because of another guy.

He sighed and straightened. Rod and Stan were out visiting the colleges again. There was some faint hope in Cole that Rod would decide to go to a college here instead and he wouldn't have to worry about parting with his son. It honestly sounded like Rod was practically enrolled in that 'UA' by the way he was talking which was odd in itself. But he still couldn't bring himself to talk to Rod. He loved his son too much to have that conversation but he also loved Mark.

"Fuck!" he growled throwing his screwdriver at the wall. "What the fuck do I do?"

He watched the tool clatter to the ground and slowly roll across the garage floor... where it came to rest beside a pair of polished, black shoes.

The air grew cold and Lincoln found his breath condensing in front of his face once again. His eyes slowly traced those shoes up to the pair of pressed, black pants and up the suit coat. The pristine, black tie led perfectly up the furry neck to the monochrome lupine face of that wolf.

Lincoln took a step back, his hands groping around for some kind of weapon.

The wolf stood at the entrance of the garage, hands folded behind his back and utterly unmoving.

"What do you want?" shouted Lincoln. "Who the fuck are you!?"

Again, the man in the convincing wolf mask did not speak and just stood there, watching him. Lincoln quickly grew frustrated and threw the closest thing he had at the watcher. It was a small engine part. But before he could hurl it he was suddenly struck with a splitting headache that hit Lincoln's temples and he winced. His vision blurred and he staggered. He lose sight of the wolf and the headache abruptly passed.

WHAM!

The garage door abruptly came down, plunging him into darkness.

"Shit!" he cried. Somehow he knew exactly where the light switch was despite only being in this place for a few days. His hands flicked it on -

"FUCK!"

Scratched into the walls, over the tools and painted all over his _car_were the words 'Feed the Need'.

He turned and bolted straight into the house.

The wolf was there waiting for him, just about ten feet away from him and standing down the hallway.

Lincoln glanced to his left. The front door waited for him, open and inviting. To his right was the wolf. The moment he just thought about bolting through the door, it shut with a loud slam. 'Feed the Need' was scratched on the surface.

When he turned back towards the wolf, the guy was further away. The wolf was standing in the secondary bedroom, the one that Mark had been cleaning yesterday.

"That's it," he snarled, stomping down the hallway. "Get the fuck out of my house!"

The door slammed shut in front of him, blocking the wolf from his view.

Lincoln froze... there was something odd about the door. He couldn't quite place it. It was white, polished clean because Mark had painstakingly gone over it with some polish and a rag to make sure it was nice and presentable. The architraves were a bright redwood, expensive but it looked simply fantastic and made the Rod's name which was drilled into the door pop -

...

Rod's name.

That... that was Rod's room wasn't it?

That guy was in Rod's room!

Lincoln took a step forward but then that splitting headache came again and he staggered.

"This... This isn't right..." he grunted.

He felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of his head. When he turned, he saw the wolf in the suit again. This time, the wolf opened the front door... passed through and shut it behind him.

"What are you trying to tell me!?" he bellowed, chasing after the guy.

He pulled the door open...

Just as a rickety looking Sedan came rolling up the driveway. A large man with chocolate brown skin, short cropped hair and a thick, corded neck poked his head out from the vehicle.

"Hey, are you Cole? The mechanic?"

Lincoln's headache was still pounding and the presence of the wolf kept nagging at the back of his mind. His lips moved automatically without his consent. "Yeah, I'm Lincoln Holt. Welcome to Holt's Mechanics. What can I do for you?" He blinked. "Wait..."

He turned his head towards the garage... It was huge. Big enough to fit four cars side by side. Through the windows, he could see car lifts for each of the vehicles and his was resting on one such lift. The walls were lined with all the equipment he had at his old garage plus more. There were even stacks of tires on the far end of the garage. The entire structure was almost as big as his house!

"Where...?" he began softly but the customer - his customer - interrupted him.

"Mark told me you're one hell of a mechanic. Can you give a look at the old clunker? I'll pay you."

Cole was officially freaked but he tried to supress his nerves and tried to be as professional as ever. He stepped off his patio and headed up to the man. "Yeah, alright. Bring it up. I'll take a look at it."

After describing the problem, Cole quickly deduced that the Sedan might need a new axel but he needed to have a good look. His customer thanked him for the time and gave him a deposit of a nice, round two hundred dollars cash. With little else to do, Cole took the keys from the man and drove it up to the garage. There was a bit of apprehension on his part as he opened up the door. Part of him expected to see 'Feed the Need' scratched everywhere... but he couldn't quite tell why. He felt relieved when the garage was just as clean as he had left it.

He drove the car into the middle of the garage and propped it up on a jack. He wiggled beneath the car. As he suspected, a new axel would be needed. He pulled himself out from beneath the car and decided he needed to bring it up onto one of the lifts. As he straightened... he felt the temperature drop one more time.

His eyes went wide in horror.

Cole spun around -

And found the wolf standing just a short five feet from him.

"Fuck you!" he screamed, face red with anger. "What the fuck do you want!?"

Then... the wolf did something other than disappear, stare and write creepy messages on the walls. He unfolded his hands from behind his back... and offered Cole a little, gold necklace with a golden pendant on it.

A memory clicked inside Lincoln...

"My wife's pendant..." He instinctively reached for his neck... and found the pendant missing. He never took it off... How...? He approached the wolf... and gently took it from the wolf's paws. His eyes roved the golden chain... and he opened the pendant, seeing himself from all those years ago.

"Thank -"

When he looked up... the wolf was gone.

"... you..."

******

Rod stared at Whiteshadow from where the horse stood in its stall. Whiteshadow glared back.

...

"I am going to ride you so hard," he growled.

The stallion snorted, challenging him.

"Well fuck you," Rod snarled.

"Rod! Rod!"

He straightened and turned towards the stable entrance. Whiteshadow nickered, mocking him and he glared at the beast before turning to greet his father's panting features. Confused, he said, "Dad? What's up?"

Cole Holt shook his head. "I'm not leaving, son. I bought the house we're working in. I'm going to stay here because of Mark."

Rod frowned at him. "What? When were we leaving? You just finished paying off the house and we were going to move?" Then he shook his head again, focusing entirely on what was important. "And Mark? What about Mark?" Then his eyes widened. "Holy shit! You're dating my boyfriend's dad!?"

There was a flash of... something in Cole's eyes but he continued by saying, "I love him, son. He's been nothing but nice to me and he's always there for me, supporting me. Hell, he sabotaged the car just so that I would have some time to tell you that it kills me that you're going to go to college but my future is here." Cole let out a pained whimper. "I'm sorry son... But I need to let you be your own man and I need to be mine. You have your life... and I have mine."

Rod just stood there for a long time... and then broke into a big grin. "Are you serious? I was going to do exactly the same thing!"

"What?" came his father's confused reply.

"I was going to sabotage the car too because I needed Stan and we both knew how Mark liked you and how he liked spending time with you! That's why he originally volunteered to help you with the car despite having no experience with cars." He rolled his eyes for emphasis. "I can't believe he beat us to the punch!" He rubbed the back of his head, blushing deeply. "But... I sort of got distracted."

"Distracted? By what?"

"Well..." His eyes drifted to the stable windows. Framed perfectly in the distance on a grassy paddock was Stan. The hunky farm boy sat astride Stormwing, watching the cattle gently graze before him.

"Oh," Cole said knowingly. "Distracted."

"I never felt this way about anyone before," admitted Rod, leaning absently against one of the columns. "Stan makes me feel warm inside, you know? Holding him close to me... it makes me feel safe and the way he's always so cheerful and happy... it makes me smile too. We've been friends since grade school and now..." He took a deep breath. "Shit... I can't believe we'll be sharing a dorm together... I was honestly afraid you'd be sad being all alone but if Mark is there, well..." He winked at his father. "I know you'll be in good hands."

Cole laughed, approaching his son and leaning against the same pole. "We're just a couple of idiots, aren't we?"

"I bet all of this could've been avoided if we'd just talked to our boyfriends, huh?"

"We'd be one broken car less," counted his father, "a few headaches healthier and probably a few years of decent communication better." Cole laughed, shaking his head in relief and defeat. "Though, all things considered, I wouldn't trade it for the world."

"We wouldn't have met our mates."

Neither of them paused at the word to describe their boyfriends. It felt so natural.

Cole clapped his knees lightly. "Well, that all changes today." He straightened and held out his big, meaty hand at Rod. "Today, I swear that I'll be a better father to you. I promise to stop dragging you around, trying to make you live the way I want you to live and holding onto you so tightly that it'll suffocate you."

Rod regarded the offered hand and seized it before pulling his father into a tight embrace. "And I promise that I'll stop being such a self-centred asshole that's only focused on me. I've got more than just Stan to care for. I always have."

His heart swelled, a great weight having lifted from his soul. He had never thought he had it but now, he felt so free. Suddenly, he felt relaxed. There was some part of him that wanted to get a boner, wanted to offer his ass to his hunky father... but a far stronger force pushed that back. This was his father and while he loved Cole, he loved Stan far more.

"Hey," Cole said, pushing Rod away with a grin. "Business is picking up at the garage. Want to help your old man fix up this Sedan?"

"Sure dad, I'd love to."

******

That night, the fog visited everyone in the town as it always did.

Sadly, Rod and Stan were both exhausted from their day in the farm and helping out in the garage respectively to do anything overly exciting. It was the first time that it visited the Holt residence for an evening... at least in reality. The two boys were slumbering in Rod's big bed, caught in a tight embrace in the large depression in Rod's room. The fog rolled over the large TV that the two had spent playing an hour of virtual football before they both grew too tired to move their fingers and thumbs and went to bed. It devoured the big beanbag chairs that were still slightly warm from the two teenager's hot, muscular bodies resting within their embrace and flooded the small enclave where the two slumbered.

Both of them breathed in the fog readily. Stan was most affected as his entire form gyrated and shifted, the wolf inside of him emerging and his big, thick cock rubbing against Rod's backside. It was a good thing both of them had opted to sleep in the nude. Though both were painfully erect, it was only Stan who constantly whispered 'Feed the Need' over and over again in Rod's ears.

Before long, both of them were rutting wildly against the sheets.

At the stroke of midnight, both boys spilled their seed into the sheets, the last few parts of Rod that remained as Roderick Heath dwindling to just a few droplets. The poor human even let out a howl that joined with Stan's cry, the sound slipping more and more into the bestial.

The fog around the boys grew thicker as the cum that poured into their sheets and even began to drop onto the floor was consumed greedily.

The feasting abruptly stopped, however.

Standing on ground level, peering down at the two young men that still bore hard cocks... was the wolf, the one in the black suit and whose brown eyes glinted with an enigmatic sheen. In one paw, he held a glass. Not just any ordinary glass, a stylised glass built for milkshakes and one pilfered from a particular corner milk bar. He lifted the glass into the air... and let it drop into the thick fog. It clattered to the ground... but neither of the boys registered it.

Far across paddocks, in the neighbouring farm, Lincoln Heath was fingering the pendant containing the picture of his family. He was no longer wearing it. It just didn't... feel right anymore. He was now in the arms of another man and his son was happy... He knew Ellen would have wanted them both to be happy but somehow, this just felt like betraying her...

It just felt... wrong on both ends.

Wrong that he was finding happiness in Mark... and wrong in that he was hung up on his wife...

It was dark but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness but it was still too dim for him to notice the fog that was already engulfed him entirely. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Stan's howl. He didn't even question how he knew it was Stan howling or how a human should've been able to emit such a convincing wolf cry. It just felt right... but at the same time... wrong.

Just like everything else around him.

The house felt like he had earned it, bought it from the _Nexus Conglomerate_after he moved to Wolfholme from LA when his wife died over a decade ago. But... that wasn't right, was it? What happened to the camping trip...?

That garage and his life as a mechanic. He always loved cars, he loved his baby - his red hot 2013 Ford GT Mustang - loved tweaking it, improving it and building it up into the titanic beast that it was. He got his degree in mechanical engineering back at Hartsteilm. He had hoped Rod would go there too but when Rod decided to follow Stan to UA, how could he refuse?

But that... that all seemed wrong. He remembered days fretting over Rod leaving for college somewhere and him being alone in an empty suburban house. There were days when he was frightened about letting Rod go while he remained in Wolfholme... weren't there?

He shook his head and felt the light brush of Mark's big form sitting beside him. The scent of Mark's arousal was evident in the air and he knew his mate had already worked up a hell of sweat trying to get off upstairs. Mark's arms wrapped around his shoulders, finding him even in the darkness.

"Why don't you come up to bed?" cooed his mate softly.

"Because I sleep down here on the couch," came the instinctive reply but that just didn't sound right. Why would he sleep on Mark's couch? He had a house just thirty minutes down the road after all. Besides, he was madly in love with Mark... admittedly they had just realised that but surely their relationship had evolved past the point of sleeping in separate beds...?

He heard Mark chuckle softly. "I know you just opened your eyes and realised I was purposefully sabotaging your efforts to repair your car so I can get you in the sack but you've got to realise I'm crazy about you right?" Mark nuzzled him softly. There was... something odd about that touch. His nose was wet and his beard was brushing against his own stubble.

Wait... did Mark even have stubble?

"Besides," said his boyfriend softly, his lips hovering over Cole's ears. "I'm willing to wager all those times you wanted to sleep over here because our sons were 'too noisy' were just excuses to get closer to me."

Cole couldn't help but grin bashfully. "Guilty as charged."

Mark's arms dropped way from around him and he instantly missed his mate's touch. However, those big fingers brushed against his hands, slowly gripping the edges of the necklace. The leathery touch of Mark's pads and the light scrape of his claws jarred Cole for a second... but he dismissed it when Mark lifted the pendant and clasped it around his neck.

"Still hung up on her, huh?" Mark asked.

"I can't forget her," answered Cole, gripping the pendant tightly. "She gave me a beautiful son and I loved her. I still do."

"You love me too, right?"

"Of course," he answered, turning towards Mark. Through the darkness and the thick fog, Cole could just barely make out Mark's lupine features... and he didn't care. He was getting hard just having Mark there and his mouth was going dry. "I love you more but... I still love her."

"I understand." Slowly, Mark's paws gripped Cole's hands. The touch was electric and Cole's cock sprang to life, pressing up against his shorts and spilling a flood of precum into his jeans. "I just want you to know, Cole, that I love you too. More than anyone else in the world."

Cole let out a soft, lusty growl as those words caused his heart to swell. He took a deep breath and licked his lips just to wet them a little. But that still left his throat incredibly dry. His desire was growing and the longer he held Mark, the more his mind was becoming addled. All he could think of was somehow quenching his thirst... and he could only think of one thing to do that.

"Mark..." he moaned softly. "I love you so much... I... Oh fuck it!"

He dove for the huge wolf, not at all surprised that Mark was already naked. His lips wrapped around Mark's thick, lupine cock and he got a full blast of lupine precum. His thirst was temporarily quenched but he just needed more.

"Oh!" moaned Mark, his cry broken by a soft laugh. "This is... unexpected."

Cole pulled his lips away just long enough to say, "Shut up and stop pretending. This is exactly what you came down here for."

"I came down for youuuuuuu!" Mark's cry was extended with Cole greedily taking as much of Mark's thick, throbbing cock into himself.

Both of them moved in tandem. Cole bobbed his head up and down Mark's erupting cock, drinking the salty precum as it came. At the same time, his hands were working to remove his pants and let his own fourteen inch member free. The issue came when his shirt became too hot and stifling for his body and he had no intention of breaking their contact just to take it off. As if reading his mind, Mark seized Cole's shirt and tore it right off his back with a fierce roar. The big wolf lay back on the couch, his thick legs wrapping around Cole tightly and bringing them together, urging him on and on.

Cole's entire body began to react to the deluge of preum. His balls churned, devouring the last traces of the very stubborn Lincoln Heath and rapidly replacing him with Cole Holt. Thick bands of plump veins began to rolled up from Cole's massive, calloused hands built from years of working both on a farm and_in the garage. These veins worked their way up his corded forearms, pushing the weakling veins that had supplied the chef's arms. As they rolled up Cole's upper arms, his biceps and triceps surged out, filled with memories of days spent in the cellar pumping iron when there were no customers. They grew big, thick and heavy, strong enough to support entire cars on their _enormous forms.

The developing human had to roll his shoulders as they inflated, stretching his skin to their limit. They became built to carry up to four tires - two on each - to and fro from his supply in the garage to customers that needed it. He didn't rely on machines to do a man's work for him. But strong shoulders needed an equally strong back and in response, his entire back swelled with new strength and power. It was his pride and joy. When he flexed, he could crack walnuts and smash beer cans between his huge shoulder blades. To fit his growing frame, his vertebrae grew and lengthened, giving him that extra foot of height that put him just a little shorter than Mark when the wolf was human.

Years of hefting cars with his bare hands, hauling tires and carrying heavy mechanical equipment pushed his chest out into two, huge slabs of chiselled meat. His abdominals tightened and surged with every gulp of Mark's delicious precum that he drank, the square shapes growing and filling out the space between his pecs and his groin to make a perfect eight pack. The light dusting of chest hair over his mountainous pecs suddenly filled out, every strand thickening and multiplying across to its neighbouring flesh. Long strands of straight, dark brown hair covered his entire torso, covering his pectorals but leaving his big, dark nipples perfectly untouched and erect. He kept the forest of hair carefully trimmed, allowing his shoulders and upper arms to be left relatively untouched by the growth. His forearms and legs, however, were simply covered in the hairs and memories of his son laughing at him for being more like a Clydesdale horse than a wolf filled his memory banks. The hair on his chest quickly spread down his abdominals and evidence of his daily grooming became evident as it maintained a perfect outline of his abs without truly consuming them, joining the thick fuzz of his now sixteen inch, uncut cock.

His legs surged outwards and he was forced to kick slightly as the immense pleasure of the growth flooded his veins like molten iron. Days of working on the farm and running around with his son playing football developed his quads to be as thick as tree trunks. He remembered having car lifting contests with Rod as they both lay on their backs and pushed entire cars with their legs alone. His calves bulged as a result, covered in thick veins to make put most river systems to shame.

"Ooooh fuck!" Mark moaned. He threw his head back and the ear-splitting howl that ripped from his throat shook Cole even from where he lay. There was some primal signal in that howl and when the first blast of cum poured down Cole's throat, his own cock blasted its own load across his chest, shooting past his face and splattering across Mark's body to cover the wolf's face.

With the release of the two, Wolfholme immediately began to change.

The room right beside where Rod and Stan slumbered began to change. A large, four-poster bed appeared in the windowed alcove, the velvety curtains built exclusively for privacy and warmth in the winter. A TV sprang into existence at the foot of the bed, granting the occupants of the king sized, luxurious mattress entertainment. On the right side of the room, a treadmill appeared that rested with a perfect view of the outlying paddocks and the barn. On the left was the computer and shelves filled with various books on mechanical engineering. To compliment them all, a diploma sprang up over the computer and beside that, a master's degree in engineering.

The rest of the house began filling up, the lounge room becoming occupied with all of Rod's trophies from all those games he won and model cars that Cole liked to put together in his spare time. The kitchen became populated by various cooking utensils, both old and new, rustic and modern. Though he was a mechanic, Cole loved cooking. He always did. It sprang from one of his early dates with a guy and how he cooking for that guy even though his true passion was in mechanics. The patio, den and study rooms all quickly became populated with parts of the Holts' lives but perhaps the greatest change was in the cellar.

The wine racks vanished, the smell of aged, vintage alcohol replaced by sweat, musk and body odour. Heavy workout equipment slipped into view, the bench press resting at an impressive two hundred and fifty pounds. Dumbbells, weights, leg presses and even some gymnastic rings hanging from the ceiling all appeared and each one showed signs of well use.

Back in the Matthews' farm, Cole drank the last drop of cum that Mark had to offer and shuffled up to his mate, resting his head against the crook of Mark's muscular neck. His own cock came to rest against Mark's chiselled abs, the last drops soaking into the wolf's fur and his own abdominal fuzz. As he drifted off into contented sleep, the necklace around his neck began emitting a sound like metal grinding softly against metal. The golden chain vanished, replaced by thick, large, silver chains that made a rough choker which clung to Cole's thick neck. There was barely enough space for the pendant to flatten and absorb the photographs embedded into them. They too lost their yellowish sheen and became the large links that held the chain choker together, vanishing completely from sight and being written into history as that birthday gift that Mark had given Cole years ago when they had first met and he had never taken off once.

Cole Holt, the local mechanic of Wolfholme, snuggled up to his lover, eyes closed and a warm smile on his face.

*********

Day 7

*********

Rex the rooster crowed loudly. The bastard had the annoying habit of escaping the chicken pens, somehow, and perching himself on Rod's windowsill just to remind him that the sun had risen. On any normal day, Rod would have been up before dawn but today, he wasn't in the mood because he was content in the arms of his mate.

He snuggled up close to Stan's chiselled, naked body, sighing softly at the touch of the aspiring biochemist's smooth, bronzes skin. Strangely, Rod felt that the touch of bare flesh was... a little odd. It felt like something was missing. He couldn't tell what it was. Even when he closed his big hand against Stan's, something felt... off.

As much as he wanted to drift back to sleep, he was a farm boy true and true. Perhaps not born on the farm but certainly bred and he could not get back to sleep after dawn. Well, there were occasions when he jacked off and the euphoric bliss of afterglow lulled him back to slumber but this was just not one of those moments.

Stan continued his peaceful slumber even as Rod shuffled out from underneath his mate's arms. With the stealth of one that belied his huge, muscular frame, Rod slipped his feet over the mattress and set them down on the wooden floorboards of his room. His right foot brushed against something cold.

He glanced down and a frown crossed his features.

Reaching down, he plucked the milkshake glass from the floor. What it was doing in his bedroom of all places was a mystery. He rolled it over in his hands, puzzled at its sudden appearance.

The last time he had seen one of these was about five or six days ago when he had first come to this town and Stan -

"Urgh..." he grunted, clutching the side of his head. The milkshake glass dropped from his hands and clattered to the ground, waking Stan. The throbbing headache came so suddenly that he was caught by surprise.

"Babe...?" Stan began sleepily. "Are you alright?"

Rod shook his head but that only intensified the pain. "I... I don't know... I don't feel so good."

"Oh, one of those days, huh?" laughed Stan, shuffling over to him. Big hands wrapped around his waist, cradling him against a strong, chiselled chest. The touch of his mate eased away the headache and Rod leaned into Stan, sighing contently.

The mere touch of his hilly back against Stan's mountainous pecs stirred the primal beast inside of him. His cock was already starting to rise, the blood pooling away from his head and causing a different kind of 'headache'.

"You're excited," chuckled Stan. Rod let out a soft humming noise when Stan's hands fondled his dick lightly. The light slap on his cock woke him up from his haze of lust though. "But come on. We've got chores to do."

Rod rolled his eyes and groaned loudly as Stan nimbly leapt off the bed and swiped the milkshake bottle from the ground. Rod flopped down onto his bed, thick, muscular body causing the entire mattress of buckle beneath his three hundred pound weight. He spent a few moments staring up at the poster of his favourite footballer that was plastered on the ceiling. He had put it there years ago to constantly inspire him to be his best and to go for his dream of becoming a professional footballer.

When he heard that the Nexus Conglomerate was building its own team and a stadium was being built somewhere on the east coast, he just knew what he wanted to do and become. He grinned to himself and curled his thick, tree trunk legs, giving him a brief view of the large band of stars tattooed on his left thigh. He wasn't exactly 'clean skinned' in that sense. One of the things that Stan loved about him.

He leapt off the bed nimbly and followed the squeaky clean, farm boy that was Stan up the small steps. He smacked his mate's bubble butt, making Stan laugh and leap forward. Stan gripped his shoulders tightly and pulled him into a kiss. Rod's cock thickened all the more and he could tell Stan was starting to rise too.

However, Stan pulled away. "Come on, Hot-Rod. We got two farms to maintain."

Rod groaned and gestured at his semi-hard cock. "Come on, dude! You're leaving me with blue balls here!"

"We went nuts last night!"

"Yeah but that was last night!"

Stan shook his head, a smirk on his features. "Then thing of this as revenge for the ass slap. Come on."

They both got dressed, putting on heavy work boots and denim jeans for the farm. Stan simply loved playing on the 'farm boy' stereotype because he knew that it turned Rod on so he put on a tight, white shirt that had ripped slightly across his pecs, forming a deep neck line and a plaid red and black shirt. Just to get back at him, Rod threw on a black tank top that showed off every aspect of his chiselled frame.

Foregoing a shower, they jumped into Cole's prized _2013 Ford GT Mustang,_driving it carefully out of the garage past the other cars to be picked up that day. They drove it all the way back to the Matthews farm. The smell of pancakes, bacon and eggs wafted out from the front door, drawing the two hungry boys to the dining room where Mark and Cole were already halfway through their own breakfast.

"Like clockwork," chuckled Mark, pulling a seat back right next to him on the table. Stan sat next to his father and Rod beside his. Thanks to circular shape of the table, none of them were ever far away from their loved ones.

"Your pancakes will bring us running, dad," Rod laughed, pulling a plate for himself and shovelling a stack of food for himself.

"It's all in the batter and oats," answered Cole, winking slyly at his son. The silver chain necklace glistened around his neck and judging by the fact that both he and Mark were shirtless, the two had some play time during the night.

Not that Rod minded. He was honestly glad that his father had _finally_opened his eyes and was now openly dating Mark. After years of watching Mark pining for his father, it was nice that they were together. Plus, there was something about fucking his adoptive brother that was hot. His cock was stirring again.

He was horny this morning.

But he had to put his hormones aside after breakfast as he and Stan began tending to both farms. With the aid of the drones and automated systems, it only took them until near noon to get all their chores done on both farms. While his father was preparing lunch, the two boys hit the underground gym beneath the Holt farm.

They both pumped their muscles to the extreme, Rod feeling extremely sore but pumped at the same time. After working hard to tend to fields and then pumping over two hundred pounds of weight with some help, he was feeling good. It helped that Stan was always there beside him.

Cole called them up for lunch and Stan, now shirtless and sweat glistening off his smooth, bronzed body, bounded up the stairs. Rod smiled and watched his mate's plump muscles move effortless up the stairs, taking them at a step at a time. His cock began to stir again.

"...Feed the Need..."

Rod's smile remained as he turned his head slightly and gazed at the only blank space on the gym walls. Every other wall was covered in either in motivational posters with big, buff bodybuilders, football players or gym equipment. But this one wall remained untouched. Just pure brick.

"Feed the Need..." came the whisper.

"Must Feed the Need," he echoed.

He moved towards the wall and placed his hand against the smooth brick, following a familiar pattern until -

"Rod! Come on! Lunch!"

He pulled his hand away from the wall and glanced over his shoulder at where Stan was waiting at the top of the stairs. "Yeah, I'm coming." He turned away from the wall but not before those three magical words whispered into his ear one more time, stirring his cock from its slumber. The monster of a member had started to slip down his pants leg in its semi-hard state and it became hard to walk. He had to adjust himself as he sat down for lunch.

When lunch came and went, Stan patted his belly. Rod could almost hear the clank of metal as those hard, veiny hands slammed against those steel-like abdominals. "That was great, Mr. Holt!"

"Come on, son," laughed Cole. "Just call me Cole. We're family, right?"

Stan wrapped his arm around Rod's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. "Sure are especially after all the Matthews I've put in Rod!"

Rod, who had been guzzling some of Mark's famous lemonade, did a spit take and spluttered. "Stan!"

His father laughed and placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. I mean last night, I'd say I got quite a bit of Matthews in me too."

"Dad!" Rod cried in horror.

"To my defence," answered Cole, raising his hands, "it was my first time sucking a guy off."

Rod bolted out of his seat. "Okay, I'm out of here! I'm taking Whiteshadow to town!"

He bolted out of the house towards the stables to the laughter of his father and his extended family. Whiteshadow was there waiting for him, nickering in joy at his approach. The pure white stallion seemed to bow to him in respect as he quickly placed a saddle on his back and leapt him. He couldn't get out of the farm fast enough even though he knew it was all in good fun.

An hour or so later, he entered Wolfholme itself. The fresh air did him good and though his muscles still hurt from the day's work and hitting the gym, he felt relaxed as he Whiteshadow down the streets to the greetings of all the other residents of the town.

There was Paul, the owner of the family friendly toy store. There was Neil with his son, Rex, looking buff and hot just coming out of the gym owned by Ty, the gruff but caring proprietor. Wes and his buddies from college were throwing the pigskin in the park, temping Rod to join them but he wasn't sure he could perform after all the work he put into his muscles.

When he saw the Corner Udder Man's milk bar, however, he grinned.

It was happy hour.

He leapt off Whiteshadow, tied him to a nearby tree and told him to stay. The stallion flicked his ears in acknowledgement. Rod entered the milk bar, abbreviated to CUM, and waved at Kev who was again at the bar.

"Hey Kev," he greeted, holding up a finger. "One Cosmic Corner, please."

"Coming right up," said the bartender with a grin. A moment and a quick exchange of a dollar later, Rod took his Cosmic Corner to an empty booth, sipping on the straw contently. He peered around the milk bar, taking in all the strong, muscular men that milled about and sipped on the protein heavy milkshakes built just for those coming out of a workout from the gym.

He remembered coming here every day after hitting the gym after high school and laughing about how he had never noticed Stan until they were both in college. This was where they had really 'met' after all. Those days and night spent together... and it amazed him just how he had never realised how attracted he was to Stan until recently.

His eyes drifted to the window, peering across the street. For some reason, he was expecting someone to be standing there. There was... someone there or there should have been someone there. He remembered being scared of that person because he was so unusual. A guy wearing a wolf mask... or was he really a wolf? What was so strange about that though?

He turned back to his Cosmic Corner but then froze when he caught the reflection of something in his milkshake glass. A blazing headache stabbed at his temples and as he lifted his gaze, he found himself staring into two, piercing brown eyes.

The wolf.

"Y - You..." he grunted. "Who... are you...?"

The wolf did not reply. He just sat there, in the opposite seat of the booth, staring straight at Rod. The poor boy grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping his head as the pain in his head intensified to the point where he was paralysed.

Somehow, he managed to opened one eye... peering straight at the wolf across from him.

"You're such a farm boy," the wolf said slowly. "Welcome to Hicksville, Heath."

Suddenly, the headache erupted like a nuclear bomb had just gone off in his head. Rod slumped against the table, clutching his head. The name 'Heath' burned in his memory. It seemed so familiar. So did those accusing words of being a farm boy... and 'Hicksville'. They felt like something he had said not so long ago but... he lived here happily with his father. He was too young to remember when they moved... or... was he?

"There you are."

Rod straightened, the headache a faint memory and still quietly throbbing but the moment he saw Stan, it quickly began to fade.

"Brain freeze?" asked his mate with a smile.

Rod glanced to the opposite booth. The wolf was gone.

"Uh... I guess so... I... I guess, I drank too much and was starting to get a headache. I thought I saw this guy..."

Stan smiled at him warmly and sat down where the wolf had been. "Let me guess. A guy that looks like he's half-wolf, half-man dressing in a suit." He began making circular gestures at his face. "Brown eyes, goatee, brown hair? Black and white fur?"

Rod's eyes widened. "Yeah! Do you know him?"

"Everyone in town does. He's the Director."

"Who?" Rod frowned.

"He's the owner of the Nexus Conglomerate. He basically owns the entire town."

"And... he just appears and disappears constantly? How?"

Stan's smile obtained this sad edge like he was concerned. "Tell you what? I'll explain everything after this drink. Right now..." He leaned back just as another Cosmic Corner was placed in front of him. He held up the glass in a toast. "Here's to us, babe."

Rod gave him a shaky smile and lifted his own glass. "Yeah. Cheers."

He tried to avoid the topic of the Director throughout the entire afternoon but it was hard not to think about the mysterious owner of the Nexus Conglomerate especially when the Conglomerate's name was everywhere. The more he thought about it, the greater the headache the pounded in his head. A sense of... wrongness came with the sensation.

For the first time since he had come here all those years ago as a kid, the smiles of people he knew, the buildings and even the very air itself felt out of place. The only thing that seemed real was Stan and the Director.

When he got up to go back to the farm, he felt clumsy in his own body. The way his thick thighs rubbed together when walked was off despite the fact that he had developed his legs over years. His back was perpetually straight and his arms hung by his sides far away from his v-shaped torso. He thought that after working out for so long and playing football, he'd be used to that stance but... it just felt odd.

Heading out to Whiteshadow gave him a moment of pause. For some reason, he thought Whiteshadow shouldn't be so... comfortable around him but he had raised the stallion since it had been a small colt. That had been his project and his father's way of teaching his responsibility.

He shook off these feelings and jumped on his stallion and rode alongside Stan back to the farm, Stan on his own mare, Stormwing.

"Hicksville."

He tensed and almost pulled Whiteshadow back when he caught sight of the Director standing in the middle of the street, staring straight at him. The headache intensified but he pushed it back. If given the choice between the Director and Stan, he knew who he would choose. For making that choice alone, the pain in his skull ebbed and memories of those nights he had spent in Stan's arms and the crazy, crazy sex they had drained the blood from his brain and pooled it into his cock.

"Farm boy."

The Director was sitting underneath a tree a few metres ahead, eyes still following Rod.

That headache tried to come back but Rod shook his head. The mere motion of Whiteshadow undulating beneath him as those huge muscles carried Rod out of Wolfholme reminded him of the times when Stan was a bottom and the thick, furry muscle beneath tightened and relaxed as they made love.

"Roderick."

The Director stood on top of a building, overlooking the road. Though still from a distance, Roderick could feel the man's brown eyes piercing into his very soul.

That name sparked something in him but it was just a spark and had no fuel to begin a true flame. Rod's mind was inundated with memories of the years he had spent as a football star in high school, growing up right here in Wolfholme with his dad and occasionally meeting with Stan here and there. He remembered noting Mark's affection for his father here and there and never really giving Stan any notice. Happy memories of his friends here in town, all the animals he helped raise and rainy days spent indoors with just his father.

"Heath."

Out in the distance, standing amongst the grassy planes, the Director stared.

No, he was a Holt and that thought alone pushed away all other intrusions. When they peeled away from the town itself and entered the vast farmlands that surrounded eastern Wolfholme, he was never more sure about anything in his life except perhaps how much he loved Stan who was his mate.

"Wolfholme."

As Rod rode up to the farmhouse, he couldn't see any sign of the Director. He guided Whiteshadow back to the stables where Stan let Stormwing stay for the night. The sun was starting to set and it looked like his dad was sending out the last of the customers for the day.

Stan gripped his hand and pulled him into the farmhouse. He didn't say, merely smiling brightly as he was guided past the familiar front door, through the entertainment room and into the hallway flanked by the kitchen and lounge room. There, he pulled his hand away because he just knew where to go.

They were going to the gym, the cellar. He headed down into the basement smelling of sweat and manly musk. Stan moved straight towards the blank wall that he had observed earlier that day.

"Wolfholme is special," Stan said, moving his hands in a familiar motion over the wall. He pressed a brick and it moved beneath his fingers. The entire wall shuddered and shifted, moving aside abruptly. A thick, white mist flooded out of the room beyond. Rod wasn't scared. Somehow, he just knew this right.

Everything about Wolfholme was right.

"That poem at the front gates, it's real," Stan continued, stepping into the darkness and the mist. Neither male needed light to guide them. They just knew where they were going even though everything was pitch black. "Ages ago, the pilgrims found the Pool. Within it was the Need. The Need protects us. Gives us strength. It is the heart of Wolfholme. The Director came after. The Need respects the Director and it makes us into a shape that is pleasing to Director because the Director protects us."

Some part of Rod wanted to ask what that all meant but he didn't care anymore. He was just absorbing all of Stan's words like they were truth. His cock was throbbing hard in his pants and he was finding it hard to walk for an entirely different reason than his thick thighs rubbing against one another.

"The Director knew that if anyone ever found the Need, they'd want to stop us from being who we are. So every seven days, the Director moves the town. Places it somewhere else in the country. Never in the same place twice. Well, maybe sometimes but you get the idea."

The path slowly began to slope downwards. Rod took a deep breath, taking in the thick mist, taking in the Need. A soft growl rippled from his throat and Stan replied with his own approving hum.

"Every day you spend here in Wolfholme, you'll find it harder to leave."

Roderick Heath surfaced for the briefest of moments and asked, "We can't leave?"

"Oh no. We can leave any time we want. The Nexus Conglomerate offers us positions in their company in other places if we ever want to leave. But why would we want to? Why would we want to leave our home?"

A soft light began emanated from somewhere ahead and Rod smiled because he knew his journey was about to come to an end.

"Every day you spend here, you'll slowly change into a form fitting a resident of Wolfholme," Stan continued, his clean, chiselled features softly illuminated by the light. "You become stronger, bigger, faster. You become a stud. And bit by bit, your life gets written into the town."

Again, Roderick came up and in an almost panicked voice, said, "What do you mean?"

Stan didn't reply immediately because the tunnel ended. They stepped out into a broad, dome-shaped chamber. It was enormous with big, black walls gently sloping to a single, enormous stalactite at the centre of the chamber. There was a large, circular pool beneath the stalactite. Within it was a pool of a viscous white fluid that looked suspiciously like semen. Standing around the pool like silent guardians were large statues of naked wolf-men, massive two foot cocks permanently erect and in various positions that showed off their godly physiques. Some were crouched and flexing, others were standing, arms raised in a double bicep flex and some were even in visible acts of depravity, fucking the one next to it. From each of their cocks, that same white fluid poured into the pool. The only statue not feeding the Pool was the one standing closest to the entrance which knelt and held a silvery cup, offering it to the two boys.

Stan plucked the cup from where it rested, holding it in his big hand with reverence. "You stop remembering who you were. The guy you were before gets washed away. Everyone around you will believe that you came from here." He wandered over to the pool and knelt down. "They'll know and understand that you're just like them. You wandered into this town, not knowing its secrets. Then you start getting introduced to a life, a 'what if'."

Stan dipped the cup into the pool, slowly extracting some of the fluid. "It's what the Director wants."

Roderick was fighting hard, very hard, wanting to understand what was going on. That headache was returning and he came to realise that was him. The pain was him fighting back, fighting this... whatever this was. "If that's what the Director wants... why is he trying to... to...?"

"Make you remember?" Stan finished, rising. He held the cup in both hands. "Because he wants you to know. To make the choice. Even I know that I was once this other guy but I made a conscious decision to be Stan Matthews."

"I'll... I'll forget?"

"Only if you choose to." Stan offered Rod the cup. "All you have to drink. Drink from the Need."

"But... What does it want?" Rod was already reaching for the cup but Roderick wanted more answers. He fought hard, that headache intensifying. "What does the Need want?"

"Drink," Stan insisted. "And it'll show you."

He gripped the cup in both hands. "What if I don't want to forget...?"

Stan gave him a soft smile. "Do you really want to remember?"

The still, white liquid was so inviting. In the reflective surface, he saw Rod Holt, beckoning him. He saw his future in Wolfholme. A career as a football player, a happy life with his father and his mate and endless possibilities with the Conglomerate. Why wouldn't he want that? Why would he want to remember everything he had been when this opportunity was sitting right in front of him?

He stole one last glance at Stan. "Will you remember?"

Stan shook his head, a gentle smile on his features. "I'll remember that you were once another guy but the guy I fell in love with is the one standing right in front of me."

Rod smiled back. That was good enough for him. He lifted the cup to his lips and tipped it back, letting the warm, salty fluid slide down his throat. He could feel it writhing and sloshing all the way down. The heat that radiated from it permeated every part of his body, seeping into his veins.

"Roderick! No!"

He took one last gulp before turning around, the cup just half-empty.

It was taken from his big hands by Stan.

"Dad?"

******

"Thanks for coming," Cole said with a wave.

The last customer for the day pulled out of the driveway, having gotten the tune up that they needed. Cole watched the family van drive off back to the city and with a contented sigh, he turned back towards the garage. His baby stared back at him, that Mustang glistening a hot red. Well, it was one of his babies.

Rod would always be his son and his number one priority.

Though now that he had Mark too...

He sighed and couldn't believe just how lucky he was or how happy he was. His life was great. He hit the button to shut the garage and watched the door slide to a close. Once he was just staring at the big, red metal door, he turned -

And froze.

A splitting headache hit him like someone had hit him with a sack of potatoes. He staggered back, pressing his rear against the door.

The man in the wolf costume stood in front of him, just a few feet away.

"Y - You again..." he grunted. "I thought... I thought everything was done after you... you gave me... Argh!"

Cole clutched his temples. He recalled the wolf giving him his wife's necklace... that necklace he never took off... But that wasn't right. The only piece of jewellery that he never took off was Mark's necklace, that birthday gift that clutched his thick, neck so tightly and made him look so sexy. Hell, even during sex, he never took it off...

But... he remembered feeling relief when he had gotten his wife's necklace back. The pendant inside constantly reminded him of who he had been... That chef with one son who was going off to college. He turned away from the wolf just so that he wasn't staring straight at the anomaly. His reflection stared back at him through the dark windows of the garage door.

The man staring back at him seemed so familiar and alien at the same time. The short, brown, swept hair that led perfectly into his thick, well-trimmed beard certainly seemed right but the chiselled features, thick, corded neck... it was all... wrong. He slammed a big fist against the door and just staring at it... it didn't seem like his anymore.

He spun around, gazing back at the wolf even though his head practically split in pain.

"What's going on!?" he demanded.

"In this town,"_the wolf said ominously, _"seven days are all you have to roam. A minute longer and consider this your new home."

Cole shook his head furiously. "What are you talking about? I've been in this town for years! I -" He gave another cry of pain and fell to his knees. "... I... I moved here when my wife died. Moved her with Rod when he was just a kid... We... We've lived here for most of his life..." He looked up at the wolf. "Right?"

The wolf shook his head and just said, "Tick-tock. Lincoln. Tick-tock."

Cole straightened... that name... His name.

It wasn't Cole Holt... It was Lincoln Heath. He straightened but kept his eyes on his hands, those big, meaty, calloused, greasy hands that were not his own. Then he looked back at the wolf... but he was gone. A flicker of movement from the periphery of his vision made him turn towards his house... but was it his house?

A flash of black disappeared through the front door.

"What's going on here!?" he demanded, bolting after the wolf.

He saw the strange creature drift into Rod's room. Lincoln didn't give a second's thought and chased him down. Rod's door shut in front of him before he reached the wolf. Memories of a similar moment caused his head to burst in pain. He grimaced but wrenched the door open.

"Feed the Need."

He spun towards the adjacent bathroom, the same room that connected his room to Rod's. The wolf stood in front of the mirror, a finger lifted as he drew something across the mirror with a finger.

"What does that mean!?" he shouted and stomped after the wolf.

Slam!

Once again, the door shut but despite the obstruction, despite the headache, he pushed it open. The wolf was staring at him from the master bedroom. Lincoln took three steps into the bathroom, his heavy work boots tracking dirt and grime on the polished floor tiles. Something from his left made him pause and when he turned towards the mirror, he saw the words 'Feed the Need' scrawled on the glass.

His headache intensified and he grunted, staggering back against the Jacuzzi. That only seemed to make the pain worse. Vague memories of that very same message scaring the shit out of him mixed with his existing memories. It contradicted his established history and it should be wrong but it felt so right.

He felt the presence of the wolf standing over him. With one hand over his right eye, he looked up at the man who stared down at him with an impassive glare. "What is happening to me?"

For the first time, the wolf smiled and his voice didn't sound so distant anymore. "As a friend of mine likes to say, you're at a crossroads." He stretched out his hands - paws? - to either side of him, gesturing to either the door leading to Rod's room or his own. "Proceed for your son's sake or your own."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The wolf took a step back, bowing mockingly. "Go down to your cellar, your gym." One of the wolf's ears flicked. "I think I hear your son and his boyfriend going down there now."

"Rod..." Lincoln murmured and he leapt up, bolting right through Rod's room. He heard voices coming down from the cellar and he hurried towards the door. It was definitely open and the lights were on. There was no sign of his son or Stan... except for the big, gaping hole in the far wall that hadn't been there before.

Panic was rising deep in his chest and all he could think of was Rod's safety. He vaulted down the stairs, taking them three at a time before he plunged into the deep darkness of the tunnel. There was a heavy, white mist that greeted him and he had to use his hands to guide him through the darkness.

In the distance, he heard Stan's voice...

"Wolfholme is special. That poem at the front gates, it's real. Ages ago, the pilgrims found the Pool. Within it was the Need. The Need protects us. Gives us strength. It is the heart of Wolfholme. The Director came after. The Need respects the Director and it makes us into a shape that is pleasing to Director because the Director protects us."

Lincoln wanted to shout but he suddenly hit a corner and slammed into the wall. He cursed quietly to himself and let his hands guide him blindly through the darkness.

"The Director knew that if anyone ever found the Need," continued Stan. It sounded like they were getting farther and father. Lincoln wanted to shout for Rod to stop and wait for him but he wanted to know what was going on. "...They'd want to stop us from being who we are. So every seven days, the Director moves the town. Places it somewhere else in the country. Never in the same place twice. Well, maybe sometimes but you get the idea."

The Director... Was that the wolf?

"Every day you spend here in Wolfholme, you'll find it harder to leave."

Lincoln stopped for a second. There was a light in the distance and he saw two distant figures approaching it. His throat closed up as he hurried towards them

"We can't leave?"

That was Rod!

"Oh no. We can leave any time we want. The Nexus Conglomerate offers us positions in their company in other places if we ever want to leave. But why would we want to? Why would we want to leave our home?"

"But why would they want to leave such a great place?" Lincoln asked himself softly. But those words just sounded so wrong in his ears like they weren't being spoken by him but by... by Cole Holt.

"Every day you spend here, you'll slowly change into a form fitting a resident of Wolfholme," Stan said. "You become stronger, bigger, faster. You become a stud. And bit by bit, your life gets written into the town."

Written into the town? What... What did that mean?

"What do you mean?" Rod asked.

"You stop remembering who you were," answered Stan in a voice filled with reverence. "The guy you were before gets washed away. Everyone around you will believe that you came from here. They'll know and understand that you're just like them. You wandered into this town, not knowing its secrets. Then you start getting introduced to a life, a 'what if'."

For the second time, Lincoln stopped.

This time, it was because he was starting to remember. He was Lincoln Heath not 'Cole Holt'. He was a chef. A widower and he had a _poor_relationship with his son. Neither of them ever had a meaningful conversation with each other ever. Roderick - not Rod - had always been distant from him. Hell, the only reason they came to this town was because they were on a trip to Yosemite. A blotched trip in a vain attempt to bond before Roderick left for college for months at a time.

"It's what the Director wants," Stan said.

The Director wants him to change? Did he just fall into a trap?

Wait... Didn't the poem say something about seven days?

Lincoln counted the days. The clock had struck midnight six times since he had been here. His very soul screamed in horror as he realised he only had a few hours to get out of here before the final line of that poem came true.

"If that's what the Director wants... why is he trying to... to...?"

Roderick was fighting!

"Atta boy," Lincoln panted, staggering forward. For some reason, he found it hard to move his own body. He realised Cole was fighting him. But he was stronger. He would get himself and his son out of this cursed town!

"Make you remember?" Stan finished. "Because he wants you to know. To make the choice. Even I know that I was once this other guy but I made a conscious decision to be Stan Matthews."

"I'll... I'll forget?"

Lincoln finally made it out of the tunnel, leaning against the wall. Every muscle in his body felt like it was made out of lead and he could barely move. The entire chamber was illuminated by some ethereal light coming from eerie, white flaming torches hanging on the walls. Roderick in Rod's body stood in front of Stan, a cup in his hands.

"Only if you choose to," Stan said. "All you have to drink. Drink from the Need."

"But... What does it want?" Rod has the cup in his hands. "What does the Need want?"

Stan gave Rod a gentle nod. "Drink. And it'll show you."

Lincoln watched in horror as Roderick was lifting the cup towards his lips. Every ounce of his body wanted to scream in protest but at that moment, a big hand snaked out from behind him and wrapped around his lips. He was pulled back a thick, chiselled chest. His eyes met Mark's, the big farmer giving him a gentle smile.

"He's made his choice, Cole."

"What if I don't want to forget...?" Roderick asked.

"Do you really want to remember?" countered Stan.

Lincoln tried to resist, tried to struggle but with his body held back from the inside by Cole and Mark holding him down, he couldn't move. The chain around his neck felt like it was choking him.

Roderick gave one last push that made Lincoln's heart leap in hope. "Will you remember?"

"I'll remember that you were once another guy but the guy I fell in love with is the one standing right in front of me."

Roderick brought the cup to his lips.

Whether it was because Cole realised he had won or just weakened, Lincoln found the strength to pull away from Mark and shout, "Roderick! No!"

Rod turned around, mouth agape in shock. "Dad?"

Beside him, Stan took a drink from the cup as well, his prominent Adam's Apple shifting against his thick neck as it took some of whatever was in that cup.

Suddenly, Roderick doubled over, letting out a cry and clutching his stomach.

"Roderick!" Lincoln screamed. He moved forward but found his arms restrained by Mark's superior strength. He cried out his son's true name over and over again.

But it was too late.

The last memories of Roderick was funnelling away from Rod's body, leaving only the faintest memory of a young man going to college with a terrible relationship with his father. Rod's essence pushed most of Roderick out of him, pushing the last inches of the selfish, judgemental boy deep into his cock which was already painfully hard.

Rod let out a rumbling growl, more feral than human. Stan's big hands seized his shoulders and pulled them together, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. Roderick didn't care. He went with the change, let himself get turned into Rod with all the memories of his past life bubbling away from his volcanic veins that popped and tensed all over his body.

His hard muscles tensed, surging outwards with immense growth. The bands of his black tank top were absorbed into the folds of his gigantic shoulders and chest. Thick bands of muscle pushed against the flesh on his shoulders, forming distinct lines on his shoulders. With a loud snap, his tank tops bands snapped but couldn't fall away as his swelling chest held it perfectly in place, his rock-hard nipples pushing out against the fabric.

His biceps were hit by the thunderous growth, the surge of length and girth causing his arms to stretch out to his sides. Both of his triceps blossomed out, dwarfing his head. He curled his upper arm, showing off that massive, firm ball of muscle. His forearms followed suit, throbbing with new muscle and veins as they curled around Stan's similarly developing body.

Both boys held each other even as they broke their ferocious, passionate kissing. They bore their teeth at each other, snarling and snapping like two feral beasts in heat. When the growled, the sound that came out was far more beast than man.

"Feed the Need," growled Stan.

"Feed the Need!" echoed Rod.

Their hips gyrated against one another, every movement causing their glutes to bulged and grow, tightening their pants. The sound of fabric ripping echoed in the chamber. The last vestiges of clothing fell away from both men, their glistening, sweaty, muscular bodies exposed. They groaned and pulled away from one another long enough for their twin, two foot long cocks to rise up and greet one another.

Stan seized Rod's member and Rod returned the favour, both of their huge hands rolling up the massive tools. Fountains of precum were squirting out of both pieces of throbbing manhood, the veins pulsating underneath the flesh and the unnaturally big balls churning loudly that even Lincoln could hear it through his sobs and whimpers.

Rod threw his head back, letting out a thunderous cry of 'Feed the Need!'. His spine stretched, pushing him well past the normal human limit of six feet and into the seven. The thick, leather work boots he wore tore at the seams, his huge feet shooting out from beneath them. But what came out was far from human.

Black claws jutted out from the tips of his toes and thick grown fur covered the entire appendage. Rod didn't seem to mind as he kicked off the torn leather. The stimulation of his muscles urged the fur to spread across his vascular calves and all over his thighs. He wiggled his huge, ripped ass as it too was consumed by the fur. He lifted his right leg and let out an almost girlish whimper. A nub of flesh began building just over his rum, wagging excitedly from side to side. With every gesture, it grew, stretching further and further away from his body with the fur catching up to cover the pure, pink flesh until it became a thick, fluffy tail.

Rod and Stan pulled away from one another, standing at arm's length from one another to stare at one another's progress. Both boys were animals from their thighs down and they excitedly watched as the change seeped into their balls, plumping the already engorged orbs to the size of coconuts. It would've looked disproportionate on a human but as the two continued to build more and more weight and height, it fit their legs more and more especially when fur covered them, eating away at the curls of human hair.

The fur surged up their two cocks, beating their hands to the tips of their uncut cocks. The moment they began pulling back down on their members, the flesh began pulling back unnaturally, revealing themselves to now be in the possession of furry sheaths. Their excited, lust-driven movements pulled their sheaths back to reveal rapidly hardening, lupine cocks, bright red, veiny and shooting precum all over both boy's chests.

"Feed the Need!" they both chanted in unison. "Feed the Need! Must Feed the Need!"

Where the precum splashed, thick fur began to sprout all over their bodies. At first it looked splotchy but as it spread and encompassed their entire bodies, the smooth layer filled out and smoothed the hard edges of their cut muscles. As if sensing their time in the spotlight had been stolen from them, the boy's muscles surged out, cutting defined shapes once more through every inch of their fur.

"Feed the Need!" Stan cried, throwing his head back. The change rolled over his shoulders, bleeding all the way down to his arms and wrapping around his hands, turning them into paws.

"Feed the Need!" roared Rod, throwing his head from side to side. The thick bands of flesh across his neck tensed. Fur spread all over his neck, seeped across his face and pulled his features outwards into the perfect, lupine muzzle. It built around his ears, flooding them with mass and lengthening them into pointed triangles, pushing them to the top of his head. His chinstrap beard remained even against the soft grey of his facial fur.

"Feed the Need!" they both cried, slamming their cocks against one another. Even with their enormous, engorged members, their massive paws could seize the two pressed tools against one another. All four paws, squeezing the two members was too much for both of them.

"Feed the Need!" they howled.

Both their hips bucked at the same time. Huge blasts of cum exploded from both of their cocks, shooting a whole six feet into the air in ropey streams enough to fit buckets with each burst. It rained down onto both, huge, muscular wolves, showering them both for ten, twenty, thirty shots and covering the entire area around them in pure, white cum. Their fur was immediately soaked and their cocks still continued to spasm.

Lincoln could only watch in horror, his cheeks burning in shame as his own cock was throbbing against his ripped abs.

"Roderick..." he lamented.

Rod opened his eyes. They burned a bright yellow, matching Stan's.

"Wow!" yowled the newly made resident of Wolfholme. "Fuck yeah! Feed the Need!"

Stan grinned and brought his mate into a deep, long kiss, licking the cum off Rod's chin and then drawing the gathered semen straight into the slightly smaller wolf's muzzle. They both relished the sadly taste, constantly tossing it between themselves as their cocks began churning out precum once again, already ready for another round.

When they broke the kiss, Rod was practically bouncing on his new, furry and clawed feet. "Fuck! I'm ready to go again!"

"Perks of being raised in Wolfholme, babe," Stan said with a wink. "But save it for your dad." He turned towards Lincoln who froze in fear. As if reading his mind, Rod went back to the Pool, picking up the discarded cup and gathering some of the Need's semen. Already, the cum around them was being gathered by the thick white mist that permeated the dome, slowly eating away at the cum and replenishing the Pool.

"What are you people?" Lincoln demanded, trying to struggle but Mark held him tightly.

"We're the people of Wolfholme," answered Mark, gladly accepting the cup from Rod. "The Need needs us to survive and we feed the Need to keep it strong. When we give ourselves to it, we carry some of the Need within us. Our balls make the cum that feeds the Need and can turn one another into the Director's perfect men."

With those words, Mark dipped his head back and drank from the cup, leaving room for Stan to continued.

"Every night, the Need comes to feed from us," answered the younger of the Matthews. "We turn unless we have guests living under our room. We must Feed the Need."

Mark let out a relieved sigh and handed the cup back to Rod who, in turn, held it out for Lincoln to take. "Of course, we don't always need to wait for the Need. With tools like this, turning ourselves is just as easy."

He winked and groaned as his body began to shift. The chance was escape was there.

When Mark started to shift, he would be the perfect distraction. The two beasts in front of him were eyeing the changing farmer hungrily and their cocks were still so hard... those delicious, lupine cocks that filled Lincoln with the musky scent of sex...

Rod grinned at the wink. "Yeah. Of course, we could always use each other." He offered the cup once more to Lincoln.

"Right dad?"

*********

A New Day

*********

It was the middle of the day when the customised bus with the words 'Pallamore High Stallions' rolled up to the garage.

Rod Holt caught the long pass from his boyfriend, Stan Matthews and peered curiously at bus filled with dozens of guys all roughhousing and causing the bus to shake. Stan came up beside him and they exchanged a lewd smile and a cocky smirk. The middle aged man with a poorly disguised toupee stepped out of the bus, sweating in the sun and with the rolls of fat on his belly shaking with the movement alone. He shouted something into the bus and waddled over to the garage.

The man knocked on the side of the garage as a tall, muscular man wearing nothing but a red and black plaid shirt and a pair of denim jeans cut off at the knees and a pair of work boots met him.

"Hey there," the man said, sniffling slightly. His nose was red. No doubt from allergies. "I heard that this was the only mechanic in town."

"Yup," answered the tall, nearly shirtless man with the chiselled chest and glistening abdominals that you could cut diamonds on. "This is Holt's Mechanics."

"And you're Mr. Holt?" asked the man, holding out his hand.

"Actually no. My name is Mark Matthews." He shook the man's hand.

"Oh... Where is Mr. Holt?"

Mark's smiled wavered for a second. "He left -" Then his eyes glistened. "Oh! Here he is now!"

The roar of an engine caused the paunchy man to turn. All the boys back in the bus fell into silent awe as the red hot Mustang that came zooming up the driveway, polished, sizzling hot and with a thick, muscular, hairy arm hanging out of the side tapping the doorframe to the beat of some rock music.

When the doors opened, a huge, hairy beast stepped out. The man wore some reflective glasses from his face, chewing some gum. He grinned, his perfect white teeth splitting evenly through his thick, but carefully trimmed brown beard that broke off abruptly around his neck to show off the cords of tight flesh before all the thick fuzz started against across his chest which cheekily poked out underneath his tight, white shirt.

The man pulled of his sunglasses, revealing bright, blue eyes. "Hey, there Mark. Reeling in the new customers?"

"That's Mr. Holt," Mark said, letting go of the visitor's hand. He waved at Mark as their sons moved towards the bus. "Cole, this is... erm...?"

"Harold," said the man, his voice suddenly dry. "I... I'm the chaperone for these troublemakers." He spoke with a bitter tone as he hiked a thumb at the bus. "The coach fell sick for the out of town game and now it's my job to chauffeur a bunch of hormone driven teenagers all the way across town." He sighed. "Anyway, the bus is having trouble. It can't seem to go more than ten miles an hour before it starts jostling and spurting out black fumes. It's a miracle we came here. Is there anything you can do?"

Cole grinned broadly. "I'll give it a whirl, Harold. Why don't you relax with one of my husband's famous lemonades? Our boys can take your kids out to town and make sure they don't get into trouble."

Harold froze and glanced between Mark and Cole. "Oh... you two are married...?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Harold frowned. "I just didn't think the State of Texas allowed that yet..."

Mark and Cole exchanged a knowing grin. "We got a special exemption."

"Oh... Okay well... I shouldn't leave the kids alone..."

"Nonsense!" laughed Mark, wrapping an arm around the much shorter Harold's shoulders. As he spoke, the kids from what appeared to be a soccer team poured out of the bus as Rod and Stan began tossing them the football. "Look, they've just started a game. I'm sure they'll stay out of trouble."

"If you're sure."

Cole's grin grew broader as he slipped his sunglasses back on. "I'm sure. And Harold?"

"Yeah?"

"Welcome to Wolfholme."