Alphas and Omegas

"Hey, Zeblocki, I need that bench. You gotta move."

I looked over from where I spotting Isaiah on his bench press. Vince had just grabbed a pair of 60 pound dumbbells off the weight rack and was walking over toward the benches. Zeblocki was lying on the bench trying to do his pec flyes. He looked over at Vince with a look of resignation. His ear-tips drooped.

"Leave him alone, Vince. He need to finish his program just like you do."

Vince sighed and let his shoulders round a bit. "Yes, coach." But he still smirked at Zeblocki. For the past year, Zeblocki had been the baseball team's omega, even since Jim Clarkson had graduated. The Law of the Forest said there was always an omega in every pack, and as the team had adjusted to losing three graduating seniors and picking up four new players, Zeblocki had been the loser in the way the new hierarchy took form. There was nothing wrong with that; it's how nature made us, a holdover from our ancestors' days as feral animals. But as head coach at East High, it was my job to make sure it didn't get out of hand. And to make sure that Zeblocki was still in good shape for playing baseball.

Normally I might not have said anything. If Zeblocki didn't like being the omega, he needed to find a way to climb up the hierarchy, just like everyone else in society. Man is a competitive animal, after all. But things had been kind of crazy today. Tracy Carter had showed up to school in the first stage of heat, because her parents missed the signs of it. There had been a brawl in her first period class before Mrs. Delmore realized what the issue was and got Tracy sent home. But she'd walked through the downstairs hallway, and half the boys in the school had been gotten a whiff of her pheromones. So now the boys in the weight room were all strutting their stuff, trying to prove they were alphas.

In any pack, there can only be one alpha. As the coach, I'm sort of the automatic alpha, but I've always considered it important to only exert that status when I have to. So I let the guys figure out who's the alpha, the alpha of the team. Just like with Zeblocki, they were gonna have to deal with this their whole lives, and Principle Ogawa feels its important for them to learn to resolve their status conflicts without adult intervention, especially the juniors and senior, as long as no one's getting seriously injured.

I looked down at the kid on the weight bench. "C'mon, Isaiah! You got this! Gimme two more!" Isaiah was struggling to get the bar up much above his chest, so my hands were hovering just an inch or two away, ready to assist if he needed it.

"You want be alpha some day, don't you, Isaiah?" Rob Jackson's tone was mocking.

Isaiah faltered for a second and I started to grab the bar, but then he recovered and pressed the bar up twice in quick succession. He sat up.

"Fuck you, Jackson."His lips were bared enough that I could see his canines. Like most guys, they weren't actually very sharp. Biology said he was probably a beta unless he pushed himself hard. And Isaiah did push himself. Alpha is as alpha does, my mom used to say.

Jackson turned away from the deadlift bar he was working on and grabbed his crotch. "I can fuck you if you need a reminder of who's alpha." He was baring his fangs too. Unlike Isaiah's, Jackson's were sharp and a bit more pronounced.

"Cool it, you two. Save the aggression for tomorrow's game against West. The last two games they made you guys look like a teamful of omegas."

Jackson scowled at me and for a second I caught a glimpse of fang. I drew myself up to my full height, brought my ear-tips up, and looked him in the eye. I resisted the temptation to growl. We stared at each other long enough that Isaiah and a couple other kids noticed it. Don't fucking challenge me, boy. You know you'll end up showing your belly. Hmmm. I guess the boys aren't the only ones who are feeling the effects of Tracy's pheromones. Jackson turned back to his deadlifting and hoisted the bar with a loud grunt.

Jackson was one of those students who was beautiful to watch. He was a natural athlete, tall and handsome, with perfect blond hair and the kind of physique that added muscle easily. In the space of three years, I'd watched him add a good 30 lbs as he grew into his frame. Now a senior who had turned 18 months ago, he moved with real confidence, a confidence born in part from natural talent that had led him into being a star athlete and in part from his family having a lot of money. The only reason he wasn't at some private academy is that his dad was a big believer in public education.

The problem was, Jackson thought he was an alpha wolf. Every successful high school athlete thinks they're an alpha. They win a few games and start swaggering around, trying to establish dominance over all their team mates. As their time in school goes on, they start getting more of a sense of where they actually fall. Most eventually realize they're betas, because genuine alphas aren't really that common. A few realize they're omegas, but not a lot of the omegas go out for sports. They're just not very competitive. Zeblocki wasn't a natural omega. He was just the unlucky kid who got forced into that role in this particular pack.

It was understandable why Jackson thought he was an alpha. Physically, it was plausible. He had the alpha build, right down to that light golden fur over his body; most of the guys with a decent supply of body hair were alphas or high-level betas. Everything about his appearance spoke to the atavism that we alphas have, that throwback to our feral ancestors who had to literally fight for survival before we invented civilization and more peaceful ways of resolving our disagreements and status issues.

But Jackson's confidence was brittle. He was always trying to prove he was top of the pack, long after all the other kids on the team had accepted him as pack leader. Even Vince, who was three inches taller, had rolled over to him last year. When an alpha wins, he knows he's won and he stops trying to prove it until a competitor comes along. Shane Weston was probably an alpha, but he was only a sophomore and knew he couldn't compete with Jackson. He was just waiting for Jackson to graduate. Once Jackson was gone, I knew I was going to have to deal with a few fights until the new hierarchy got itself sorted out, and Shane was one of my top three guesses for who would be the new alpha. But until then, no one was going to challenge Jackson. But he was going to keep trying to prove himself. He was going to keep daring guys to challenge him. And that's why he wasn't an alpha.

Jackson always made a fair amount of noise when he worked out, making loud grunts and then slamming the weights into the floor, just to make sure everyone knew how much he was lifting. Normally I just shrugged it off. Today, though, it was starting to get on my nerves.

"Knock it off, Jackson," I said, a bit louder than I had intended.

He looked over at me, his upper lip pulled back just far enough that I could see his canines. "What?" He phrased it like he didn't know what was going on, but the challenge to my authority was obvious. Sometimes it sucked being the adult in the room. Genuine alphas have the strength to control themselves, I reminded myself. That was a lesson my dad had drilled into me regularly.

"Don't slam the equipment. I've told you before. If it's too heavy for you to put down properly, it's too heavy for you to lift it."

Vince and Isaiah exchanged satisfied looks. Jackson challenged them regularly, so they enjoyed seeing someone else push on him for a change.

"Gotta lift to failure if I want to get bigger, coach."

There was a cockiness to the way he said it that really pissed me off.

"You mean big like me, Jackson?" I pushed my chest out, hoping it looked more like confidence then posturing. How many times is this kid gonna woof at me before he says something I have to respond to? I understood what was going on. Jackson's build and looks had forced him to try to compete. And his dad certainly pushed him to do it too. But deep inside, I could see he knew he wasn't a real alpha. He knew there were stronger guys out there. Guys like me. So he had to keep woofing to look like an alpha, and he was smart enough to know where that line he couldn't cross was, so he'd stalk up to up, make some noise, and then back down without looking like he was backing down.

Honestly, I felt sorry for him. Being alpha when you're not alpha material was stressful. It was showing in his game lately, swinging at pitches he should have passed on. He hadn't scored a run in two games. But feeling sorry for him didn't mean I could just ignore all the woofs. My own status would suffer if I let him get away with too much.

Jackson turned back to the bar and proceeded to pound out 8 pretty good reps.

"Good job!" I figured some praise would diffuse the tension between us. "Keep your shoulders a bit tighter. Reset between reps if you need to." C'mon, kid. Take the olive branch.

Jackson turned away to look at himself in the mirror. He flexed his biceps, conspicuously ignoring me. He was hot. He knew it. He looked the part of an alpha, and he preened like one too. I enjoyed looking at him. It's why I let him get away with wearing a sleeveless muscle shirt in the weight room, even though exposed pits were a violation of the dress code. Too many scent glands there to allow hormonal teenagers to just air them out. I caught a whiff of his scent and it stirred my dick.

I knew I shouldn't do it, but I did anyway. I walked up behind him and flexed. At 6'4, I was three inches taller than Jackson and had 20 pounds more muscle, so it was implicitly a statement of my superiority, and he could see it in the mirror.

Jackson snapped around and growled softly at me. But not softly enough that no one heard it. Shane did, and so did Zeblocki. I could see in the mirror that about half the guys in the room were looking at us. The sounds of weight-lifting stopped and the tension in the room got thick. When the pack's alpha looked like he was gonna fight, it married to the rest of the pack. Status conflicts always mattered to the pack. I growled back, slightly louder, and let my fangs show a little. What are you doing, Jack? You didn't need to provoke this. I started trying to figure out a way out of this face-off. He growled at me again.

Fortunately, the bell rang, signaling the end of classes. I backed up a step and turned around. I could see everyone in the room relax. No fight today, guys.

"Ok, guys, get going. No practice tonight. I want you guys fresh for the game tomorrow. West's been beating our ass this year, and I want you guys to show up tomorrow prepared to end that. Champions gotta fight to prove they deserve it." I figured Tracy had left them too distracted to get a good practice in anyway. "Are you champions? Let's hear you howl!"

Jackson immediately threw back his head and began howling, a loud defiant call that was had a hint of "fuck you, coach" in it. A moment later, the rest of the team joined in. I added my voice and for a moment, we were wolves in the forest, a band of brothers who could stand against all enemies. It was moments like this that made me love coaching.

As the howl died down, I grinned, letting my fangs show all the way. "You guys are gonna kick West's omega asses tomorrow! Now get outta here....Not you, Jackson. You get to put all the equipment away."

"But..."

"You heard me. Someone's gotta clean up, and apparently you're looking for some extra reps to help you grow."

Isaiah smirked at Vince and dropped his dumbbells on the floor before walking out Jackson shot them a dirty look as they filed out the door toward the locker room. He glowered at me, but grabbed Isaiah's dumbbells and carried them over to the rack.

"In the right spot," I said firmly, as he begin to put the 50-pounders where the 35-pounders belonged. He was unhappy about it, but put them back properly.

As he did the clean up, I leaned against the wall watching him. His blue shorts framed his ass perfectly and complimented the pale fur that dusted his thighs. His green muscle shirt had long sweat trails down his pecs, especially because it was snug. Jackson wanted everyone to see how defined he was, and I'll admit I enjoyed the sight.

But Jackson made no secret of his displeasure. He was banging weights into the racks like a petulant child. His attitude was getting on my nerves more and more.

"Don't forget to move that bench back where it belongs." Dave Brisco had dragged it over to the squat rack to do incline presses.

Jackson didn't look at me, but I heard his low growl. Fucker's challenging me!

"You got something to say, Jackson?"

"No."

"Because if you do, I'm all ears." I stood up to my full height.

"Nope." A moment later he made another soft growl

I growled back, loud enough for him to hear. The tips of his ears bent outward and he straightened up, clearly unsure of how to respond. That got his attention.

It had been months since I'd really let my alpha side out, and just that small act felt good. I could feel my aggression bubbling up in my chest. Fucker needs to learn a lesson...

I stalked slowly around the edges of the weight room, making it clear that the space was mine, that I was dominant here, but not directly looking at him. Jackson watched me, the tips of his ears creeping forward as he tried to control his anger. He lowered his body a little, into a slight crouch. Go ahead, asshole. I dare you. Come at me.

But he didn't. He remained where he was, angry but uncertain, as I circled around him, making occasional growls. I looked right at him and bared my fangs. He met my eyes for a moment and I could see him trying to decide how he might take me down. I slowly circled inward, getting closer and closer to him, with him turning to keep facing me. My body was ready if he chose to attack. I opened my mouth and let out a deeper, breathier growl.

His body language shifted. He straightened up, but kept his shoulders rounded and his head slightly down, breaking eye contact. He stopped turning, letting me move behind him. He was submitting, acknowledging that he couldn't take me in a fight.

"Yeah, I thought so," I said, not trying to hide my contempt. "If you were an alpha, you wouldn't have backed down. You would have tried to take me." I got close up to him, standing almost directly behind him. I could smell his powerful but still-developing physicality, but also the stress and fear he was feeling. "You're not an alpha, are you?"

Jackson whimpered, and when I heard that sound, I realized my cock was hard. Suddenly he turned and nuzzled his nose into my armpit, the sort of thing omegas do around alphas to show they're not a threat. I raised my arm to give him better access, and he immediately started grooming me, running his tongue into my pit and drawing in deep breaths of my scent. One of the joys of being an alpha is the luxuriantly sexual feelings of having the betas submit to you.

But I wasn't going to let things drop. I wanted to establish my dominance much further.

"I said, you're not an alpha, are you?"

He kept licking the space between my armpit and my bicep, hoping he could appease me. I grabbed his hair and pulled his head back so I could stare him in the eyes. He didn't want to make eye contact and keep looking away. "Answer me!" I growled.

He whimpered again, but I refused to let go of his head. "No, Sir."

"What are you?"

"I...I'm a beta, Sir."

I let go of his head and pressed my nose against his cheeks, sniffing the pheromones he was releasing from his cheek glands. They were as intoxicating at Tracy Carter's scent had been. I felt the urge to mate rushing into me.

Jackson kept his head tilted back as I sniffed him, sliding my mouth lower and lower toward his throat, making a series of low growls as I did so. In response, he was making soft whimpers. Everything about his body language was speaking his submission.

His scent kept getting more and more delicious. I had started this thinking I just needed to establish dominance, but now I wanted something much more, the age-old alpha's prerogative.

"Are you really a beta, kid?" I slid my hand down his shorts. His ass was every bit as firm as I had thought it would be.

"Yes!" He lowered his head and made eye contact, his ears signaling defiance.

"You think you've got the balls to fight me?" I bared my fangs the whole way and drew myself up to tower over him.

He snapped and threw a punch at me. It wasn't a bad punch, but I knew way more about fighting than he did. Alphas don't stay alphas if they don't know how to fight. I grabbed his arm, redirected the force of the punch, and quickly bent his arm behind him. I pushed him up against the squat rack, pinning him between the frame and the weight of my body.

"Bad move, O."I pulled his arm up toward his shoulder blades. He gasped in discomfort and then began whimpering non-stop, a series of pathetically high-pitched noises that could only mean abject surrender.

I eased up on his arm without letting go of it, and with my other hand I yanked his shorts down, exposing that hot muscular ass, nicely framed with a jockstrap. I ran my fingers along the crack of his ass. His hole was moist and as I fingered it, he let out a moan.

"You know what it means when your hole gets wet, kid? It means you've hit omega."

"No," he said, drawing out the vowel. "I'm an alpha!"

"Not any more, fucker." I shoved him belly-first onto one of the weight benches. My wolf-brain was taking over. I pulled down my shorts and briefs and let out my cock. I was hard and my sheath had pulled back, revealing my the redness of my dick. My bulb had begun to swell, making the desire to fuck more urgent.

Jackson tried to get up, but I put a hand between his shoulder-blades and pushed him back down, pressing my weight onto him. "You had the foolishness to challenge me, omega. Even your rich lawyer dad can't object to me claiming victor's privilege."

Jackson drew his ear tips back against his head and continued whimpering abjectly. He pulled his legs forward on either side of the bench and raised his ass, signaling a willingness to be mounted. Watching this would-be alpha drop so totally into omega status was the last thing I needed to put me over the edge.

I pressed my cock into his ass, which his anal glands had ensured was well-lubricated. My shaft slid in up to the bulb. As the bulb met his ass, there was resistance but I knew to just continue pressing firmly. Jackson protested ineffectually and the inevitable happened; his virgin ass unclenched enough to receive my bulb. A moment later, I felt his ass-ring tighten around the base of my dick and a couple seconds later I felt the glorious sensation of my bulb swelling, knotting us together. We couldn't stop the mating process even if I wanted to.

"You feel that, kid? The fact that you received me so quickly, with so little fight, that's the sign you're really just an omega. You're not top dog any more. You're the bitch!"

Jackson responded by pushing his ass up against mine, trying to drive my bone deeper into him. Once knotting happens, there isn't a lot of room for thrusting unless the omega really co-operates; despite the stereotypes, not all of them do. But Jackson did; he was spreading and arching his back to create as much room for me to thrust as possible. And he was clenching his ass, squeezing my root as hard as he could. He wanted this suddenly. Maybe it was the pleasure or maybe it was just an awareness that he didn't have to keep trying to prove himself anymore. I didn't care. I just started thrusting as much as I could.

"You want this, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," he panted.

I pressed my mouth up against his neck and found the scruff, that loose bit of skin just where the neck met the shoulders. I clenched it between my teeth just firmly enough to show that I could hurt him if I wanted to but wouldn't. He gasped from pleasure and pushed his ass against me. I was shocked to hear myself make the mating growl. This was quickly moving from dominance to romance. He answered with his own mating growl. Am I meant to claim him?

The weight room door opened. "Hey, coach, do you want..." Vince broke off whatever question he had intended to ask and just stared with his mouth open. His ear tips were straight up.

That shocked me out of the courting wolf mode I had fallen into. I looked up at Vince and grinned, releasing Jackson's scruff. "Stupid omega made the mistake of challenging me. Victor's privilege." It wouldn't do for word to spread that I was fucking a student for pleasure, but victor privilege justified whatever had been necessary to establish dominance, so long as there weren't any minors involved.

Vince pawed at his crotch for a moment. A moment later he gave a quick yipping howl that summoned several of his team mates. Within a few minutes, there were a half dozen members of the baseball team in the weight room, all watching intently, stroking their sheathes. Isaiah, I noticed, was very well hung; his sheath was fully retracted and his bulb was enormously swollen. Jackson was hanging his head down over the end of the bench, unable to look at his teammates, and his ear-tips were hanging loose. But he wasn't stopping; he was pushing his ass back against me, taking my thrusts with the solidness of his well-muscled body.

It felt good to be displaying my full alpha status to these kids. Teaching high school means reining ourselves in a lot, and putting up with all the bullshit sullen teenagers are prone too. Too often I have to ignore challenges that would trigger fights under other circumstances. So being able to actually bare my fangs for a few moments was a feral joy that alleviated a lot of the little indignities of teaching.

I was panting and fucking as hard as I could, and buoyed up by the presence of an audience, I couldn't hold myself back any longer. With a loud howl, I climaxed, driving myself so hard into Jackson that he yelped in pain. The guys gathered around us gasped, and a wet stain spread across Vince's jockstrap.

It took me a minute to master myself, and I enjoyed the way that Jackson's ass was squeezing my root so tightly, milking my cum out. But my bulb was still swollen and his ass-ring wasn't about to relax any time soon, so I continued a gentle thrusting.

I looked up at the team. "Take this as a lesson, guys. Hierarchy is never fixed. Alphas rise and fall, so don't challenge unless you're willing to suffer the consequences of losing." These kids were adults, but they still thought about hierarchy like teenagers. They thought it was all physical, when in reality it's at least as much about mindset. If they wanted to be alphas (and let's be honest, they all did), they needed to start learning the nuances of adult competition.

There was a moment of silence as the guys waited to see what was going to happen next. Vince slipped off his cum-stained jockstrap and stepped forward to press it into Jackson's face. "Hey, Zeblocki! How's it feel to not be the omega any more?"

I knew something like that was going to happen. Pack hierarchy had been upended and they needed to start figuring out who was the new alpha. It figured that Vince would be the one to make the first move. But Isaiah strode over to the bench, waving his hard cock in Jackson's face. "Suck on this, you omega bitch" he taunted.

I was still locked tightly into Jackson, but I wasn't going to let a challenge to my status go unaddressed, not when I had just demonstrated it moments ago. I let out a barking snarl and bared my fangs as far as I could. "Jackson's my bitch!" Isaiah jumped back startled. If I hadn't been knotted, I would have been tempted to fight him, and he could see that. Knot a girl, protect a girl, like mom always used to say.

My sudden display had an affect on Jackson too. He raised his head and looked at me. A moment later he began licking my arm, the only part of me he could reach.

Zeblocki laughed. "Aw, look at Jackson! He's grooming!" The other guys laughed.

I felt my knot relax, and after a few moments, I pulled out. I grabbed my shorts and put them on. Jackson stood up, unable to look at any of his team-mates. His face was bright red and his body was stooped in submission. His ear-tips hung halfway down his ears.

I looked at the assembled students. "I took him down in a fair fight, and by Victor's Privilege I mounted him. That makes him omega, but he's my bitch. None of you are going to lay a finger on him, is that clear?"

They nodded silently.

"Is that clear?" I growled the last word and showed them all my fangs. Everyone responded with some version of "yes, coach." For added emphasis I made eye contact with each one of them.

"Forget that teenage nonsense that someone's an automatic alpha or omega. You earn your position. And even omegas have a role to play in team-building. Jackson's omega now, but if I know him, it won't be long before he's found a higher place in the hierarchy again." I let the lesson sink in for a minute. "Ok, get going."

As the guys filed out, I stood there looking at Jackson. After the weight room door swung closed, he dropped to his knees and then sprawled on his back, his legs and arms spread and the head back. Belly and throat. Complete submission.

I sat down on the floor next to him and started to gently stroke the hair on his thighs. He quivered with pleasure.

"Why did you stop them?" he asked softly.

"Because it's the alpha's job to maintain the pack. The strong help the weak. That's how the pack survives. And in time the weak may become strong and the strong weak." The idea seemed strange to him and he pondered it. "And besides, for the moment you're my bitch, and I protect what's mine."

I hope you enjoyed that! You can find more of my erotic bdsm short stories at gaybdsmfiction, and you can buy my novels on Amazon. You can find my author page and my published works at https://www.amazon.com/Hadrian-Temple/e/B06XCVW969/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1