THE TENDERNESS OF WOLVES Chapter 1
The following story contains sex acts between male teenagers where consent is somewhat ambiguous. While these situations can be really hot in a fantasy, they'd be absolutely dreadful in real life. This story is only a fantasy, and it's not meant to be taken seriously, or to be condoning the idea of forcing people to have sex. If such stories are not legal in your locale, well... you know what you're supposed to do.
It's a werewolf story. People get killed. Flesh is eaten. If you don't like horror mixed in with your smut, go read Playgirl. If the idea of something primal and savage like a werewolf gets your juices flowing though... Read on. ;)
The Tenderness of Wolves is an awesome musical piece by Coil. This is where the title comes from.
Feedback and encouragement is welcome and appreciated. You can get a hold of me at queer_tribes@yahoo.ca.
Have fun! :)
The last of the bullies screamed as the werewolf's jaws snapped shut around the back of his neck. The boy who had tried to beat up Jules struggled for no more than a couple of seconds. Jules heard bones crack and saw him go limp. The beast let go, and the corpse hit the pavement with a faint thud. The wolf turned to face Jules.
Jules turned around and started to run. He had to get out of there. He had to escape. It didn't matter anymore that his cheek was throbbing in pain from the punch. It didn't matter that had pissed his pants when the monster leapt from the fire escape into the alley to rend the teenage boys apart. If he ran fast enough, maybe he'd live.
Sirens. Flashing lights, blue and red. Cops. Maybe a neighbor had called for help. Maybe he'd make it. If it was one of the anti-werewolf squads, they could take down the horrible creature.
Mighty footsteps were resounding behind him. "No... no!", thought Jules, despairing; the wolf had caught up in a few steps. A powerful arm grabbed him around, snatched him up. Jules cried out in terror. The beast lept high, taking him along. It grabbed the railing to a second floor balcony, then propelled itself to the rooftop of the building on the other side of the alley. Jules heard gunshots, coming from below. He closed his eyes, waiting for death to claim him.
The icy wind and the October rain hit Jules' face as the beast raced forward, carrying him along. It jumped again, and the impact of the landing knocked the air out of Jules. He was going to throw up. The werewolf didn't slow down.
How long had the wolf carried him? Seconds? Minutes? Why wasn't Jules dead yet?
The monster stopped. It put Jules down who fell on all four, his hands hitting gravel. He dared open his eyes. They had come to a halt on another rooftop, God knew where in the middle of Montreal. He could see the tower of the stadium ahead. Jules turned himself around to face the wolf. The hulking predator, seven feet tall, standing its two hind legs, was staring it him intently with its brown, frigid eyes.
The werewolf turned away and walked towards a door. He yanked it open. He then motioned Jules with it's gigantic, clawed arm to venture into the dark opening. Jules shook his head, unable to move, frozen with fear.
The beast began shifting then, turning smaller. It's gray fur receded, exposing pink skin. The claws became human hands with human fingers, although sticky with gore. The jaw filled with vicious-looking fangs retracted into a mouth with reddish lips, smeared with blood too. A naked teenager was standing in front of Jules, a Caucasian punk boy with his hair cut in a long mohawk. Jules swallowed has he recognized the adolescent as one of his classmates from school.
"You're Conrad Blackstone! You're a werewolf!"
Conrad sighed.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have a knack for stating the obvious?"
"Those boys... Marco Williams and the others... You killed them!"
The werewolf boy shrugged.
"You upset about that? They looked pretty well on their way to beating you into a bloody pulp."
Jules reached up, touching his sore face with his fingers. A couple of his ribs on his right side hurt too. He had taken quite a beating. But the bloody spectacle would not leave his mind, the brutal murders that had happened before his very eyes.
"But still..."
"Shut up, and get inside. I'm fucking freezing there in the rain, without my fur."
"What about the people in that building?"
"It's abandoned. It's one of the old factories near the waterfront. I've been here before. Now stop staring at me naked, and get your fucking ass in there before I change my mind and decide to eat your fucking face."
Conrad had said the last sentence rather nonchalantly, and Jules wasn't sure if this was an actual threat. Conrad Blackstone had always had a rough demeanor, but he'd never seen him actually be mean to anyone -- until the massacre in the alley. Jules decided not to take his chances with him, and walked into the open doorway. He tried very hard not to look at the package that was hanging between Conrad's legs.
The werewolf followed him inside, and closed the door. It was pretty dark in the old factory, but light from the cloudy autumn afternoon filtered through dirty windows. The whole story seemed to be a vast empty warehouse space. Jules took a couple of hesitant steps. Broken glass crunched under the soles of his sneakers. Conrad gently grabbed his shoulders from behind and nudged him forward.
"Over there. Stay close to me, black boy. You're difficult to see in the dark. I don't want to lose you."
Jules father was Haitian, and he'd inherited much of his dark complexion, along with frizzy brown hair that he kept short.
"What about the glass on the floor? You're naked."
"I don't care much for the pain if I cut myself, and I can heal it almost instantly."
They both walked a few meters into the building, and Conrad stopped him. He fumbled around and picked up what seemed to be a plastic bag. He pulled something out of it, and snapped the object. It started emitting a faint fluorescent glow -- it was some sort of light stick.
"So... it's true what they say on TV? You guys can regenerate wounds? Like Wolverine?"
Conrad nodded. Jules noticed that the plastic bag also seemed to carry a few pieces of clothing, but the other boy made no move to dress himself. Jules took a glance at the blood on Conrad's face, to avoid having to look at the young man's crotch.
"So, those fuckers in the alley... Why were these little pieces of shit after you?", asked Conrad.
"I... I don't know. Everyone's always after me. No one ever leaves me alone."
"They were calling you stuff while they were hitting you."
Jules lowered his gazed and stared at the ground.
"Faggot, said Conrad. Fucking queer."
"They always say stuff like that."
Conrad took a short step forward.
"Is it true? Are you? I won't mind. I'm a fag too."
"You? You're... No way!"
Conrad chuckled softly.
"What's more shocking? That I like to suck cock, or that I'm a flesh-eating werewolf?"
Suddenly, Conrad shifted again, although not into the full beast that he was previously. He grew taller. His muscles bulged a bit. A darker fuzz appeared on him chest, arms, and legs. His features became sharper, more feral. His ears grew elongated. His eyes turned the same flat, icy brown they had been before. Jules took a step back.
"Please, don't hurt me...", whimpered Jules.
Conrad walked towards Jules, each step being very deliberate.
"I could hurt you. I could do all sorts of things to you."
As he spoke, Jules noticed that Conrad's canines had also become larger, more pronounced, not like a vampire's, but more like a carnivore's. Jules took another step backwards, and his back hit the brick wall. He was cornered. Conrad was right unto him, animalistic and very much naked. A primal magnetism emanated from him. Jules could barely think straight. His own cock stirred, betraying him. He was scared witless, he should not be becoming aroused.
"You didn't answer my question, Jules. Are you a little fag too?"
"I... I don't know... Please let me go..."
"No. I won't let you go. I saved you, and now you owe me."
Conrad's hand started groping Jules crotch. Jules was fully hard now. The hand rubbed his bulge through the fabric of his jeans, massaging his boyhood.
"So, it's true what they say black boys..."
Conrad unzipped the pants. Jules felt the hand find its way inside his underwear, and the warm fingers wrapped themselves around his thick shaft. He could feel the stickiness of the blood on them.
"Your dick his bigger than mine, whispered Conrad. Here, have a feel."
The werewolf took Jules hand, and pressed it against its own sex. He could feel Conrad's slender, hard cock throbbing against his palm; it was smaller than his, he couldn't help but notice. The wolf boy started stroking Jules manhood, and Jules reciprocated the motion. Maybe he'd leave him be if he gave him what he wanted.
Conrad leaned forward, his bloody mouth moving in for a kiss. Jules turned his face away -- it was the blood of those boys the monster had murdered. The werewolf brusquely reached for Jules chin and forced him to look back at him; his grip was a vise, and his fingers were digging in the boy's jaw, almost causing pain. The predator's cold eyes were staring back at him. The other hand was still masturbating Jules swollen cock, extracting pleasure whenever it squeezed. Conrad approached his blood-stained lips.Â
"Lick it. Lick the blood of your enemies. I killed them for you."
Jules cracked a sob, closing his eyes. A soft whine escaped his mouth.
"Lick it", commanded Conrad.
A faint growl escaped his throat. His sour breath was on Jules' lips. The human boy stuck out his tongue and ran it along the coagulated dark substance, smearing its metallic tang against his taste buds. He licked again, cleaning away the caked blood. He was still pleasuring the wolf boy between his legs, his fingers smearing the gooey arousal all over his dickhead. Suddenly, Conrad pressed his hard manhood against Jules' and kissed him passionately on the mouth, forcing his tongue inside. Jules whimpered, his brain losing its ability to think coherent thoughts. All he could feel was the beast's animal aroma, the aggressive tongue invading him, and most of all, the burning heat of the crotch grinding against his own.
After a long, torturous moment, Conrad released his mouth.
"You like it, you little queer. I can smell how turned on you are. You can't bullshit me about this."
He ran the tip of his tongue along Jules' cheek, licking away the trail of tears. Jules looked away, unable to face those terrible, cold eyes.
"You don't have to be a victim, Jules. You don't have to be scared. Someone messes with you, I snap their little neck. You mess with Jules Rodrigue, you die. That's the rule from now on."
"I don't want people to die..."
"Then they'd better behave. You deserve way better than all that bullshit."
Conrad was slowly rubbing his erection against Jules'. The boy finally dared to look at the werewolf's face. It was such an intimate contact with such a terrifying creature. He was not even fully transformed, and yet he exuded an aura that demanded cowed obedience. That feral face, those sharp fangs, the flat wolf eyes... Jules was his plaything. Conrad was taking what he claimed he was owed. Yet despite the fear and the helplessness, Jules' loins were throbbing with lust. The werewolf was practically raping him, yet his body was yielding under the invasive ministrations.
"Why are you doing this?", asked Jules in a soft voice.
"Maybe I like you. Maybe I want to take your tiny, scared soul and tear it open for a whole new world to rush in there. Maybe I'm a pusher who sells danger and power, and this is my way of getting you hooked. Maybe I think you're hot, and I've been waiting for weeks for the moment where I would get to treat you like my little bitch in heat."
Conrad knelt in front of Jules, his face inches away for the turgescent black cock. Â He could catch the smell of urine from when the boy had soiled himself in terror earlier, but his keen nose also picked up the delicious aroma of teenage lust that had seeped too from his piss slit. The werewolf boy licked his lips in anticipation.
"You can't get away, Jules. You can't fight me off. You might as well enjoy yourself."
Conrad swallowed the thick, swollen tool, using the insides of his mouth and his warm tongue to form a moist pussy for Jules' engorged dickhead. Delicious tingles engulfed the human boy's groin.
"Oh God...", gasped Jules.
Conrad sucked his dick in long, slurpy strokes. He was making hungry, appreciative noises as he enjoyed the well-developed, adolescent cock. Jules was a scrawny boy by any standards, but nature had endowed him with a sizable piece of meat. Conrad was drowning in the pungent, African flavors of the human boy -- he had an earthy, musky taste unlike that of any other male that he'd savored sexually before. He reached behind Jules and grabbed his round butt-cheeks, digging in his fingers, pushing the boy forward. His nose was nearly buried into the frizzy patch of dark pubic hair. Conrad had to pause a moment to stop himself from giving in to his most primal urges; he had almost fully transformed. He wanted to suck Jules off, not bite off his precious manhood. He was curious as to how Jules flesh would taste like should he decide to feast on him, but he had a liking for the boy, so he'd have to restrain himself.
Jules was fascinated by the blowjob that was so thoroughly inflicted on him. He watched Conrad bob his head back and forth, taking in his length with practiced skill. Jules tried hard not to think of the other times he had been at the receiving end of such attentions -- none of these had been happy nor consensual. Yet, despite being once again taken nearly against his will, he found himself enjoying the sexual delicacy. Conrad had not escaped his notice in school, and he'd had pleasant daydreams about the local bad boy. The werewolf's advances were far more than pushful, and yet...Â
Guilt suddenly surged in Jules. This was wrong. He shouldn't be enjoying this.
In one swift movement, Conrad let go of his cock and spun the human boy around. The smooth, perfect brown globes that formed Jules ass were facing him. He spread the cheeks apart and started lapping hungrily at the puckered chocolate hole within. Jules gasped at the unexpected intrusion and tried to move out of the wolf boy's reach, but Conrad was holding him firmly into position. He licked intently at the opening, pushing with his tongue, tenderizing the little ring of muscle tissue, and making it slick with spit. The sensation overwhelmed Jules, who bit has lip; no one had ever eaten his boy-cunt before, he didn't even know people did that. He felt Conrad's right hand grope his dick and masturbate him furiously. Jules mind was awash with shame, yet his body was being tongued and milked into ecstasy.
Then Conrad stood up all at once, and the moment later, Jules felt the cherry tip of the werewolf's cock slide between his butt-cheeks, going straight for his hole. Jules tensed and started struggling to get out of Conrad's grasp.
"No, not that! Please stop! Please let me keep that! I'll blow you, I'll do anything -- just let me keep that, please!"
Jules closed his eyes and winced, bracing himself for the piercing pain.
Conrad stopped.
Suddenly, the werewolf pressed is hand against Jules mouth and shoved him hard against the wall. Jules whined. Conrad brought his lips close to the boy's ear, and started whispering to the human.
"Do you have any fucking idea how much I want your hole right now? Do you have any idea how stronger sexual feelings are for a werewolf? It's taking everything that I have right now not to change into the full beast and fuck your delicious ass right here, right now."
Conrad let Jules go. The boy turned around to face the werewolf. Conrad had turned back to his human form, into the scrappy teenage that Jules saw everyday in school. The punk boy's dick seemed hard like rock and was throbbing with his heartbeat.
"I'm a killer, Jules. And I'm certainly capable of taking sex from a boy whether he wants it or not. But I like you. So I'll let you have that -- for now. I won't even make you blow me. I'll let you go home."
Conrad went to the bag of clothes. He took out a pair of ripped, faded jeans and put them on. He didn't bother with underwear.
"You're letting me go?"
"But I'll see you again. I saved you from being beaten hard, maybe to death. You still owe me."
Jules looked at the ground. The factory floor was covered in dust and filth.
"This is just a game to you, isn't it? Your kind... You don't care about us humans. You just killed those guys, and now you're taking advantage of me."
Then Jules thought to himself: "And you'll probably kill me too, once you're bored with all that."
Conrad let out an angry snort.
"And what in fuck do YOU know about werewolves? That shit that they say on TV or that's on the Internet?"
Conrad pulled out an old Black Flag t-shirt from his bag, and put it on.
"We're not like you humans. We're hunters. We're predators. We're pack animals."
He grabbed a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and lit himself up. He handed the pack to Jules.
"You smoke?"
Jules shook his head.
"We do care about some people, in our own way. Call it the tenderness of wolves. You might hate me for what I did today. I murdered these fuckers in front of you. I forced you to have sex, although you fucking smelled like you were begging for it."
He took a drag from his cigarette and puffed out the smoke. He took a few steps towards Jules, coming face-to-face with him. Conrad could sense Jules tensing up at his approach, but the human boy held his ground. "Good", thought the wolf. "I like that."
He stared deep into Jules dark eyes.
"But you're not dying in the rain right now. And I fucking stopped when we reached the point where you really didn't want to go. And I'll keep protecting you. I'm still gonna have fun, maybe a bit at your expense. But I actually like you. And I hope you'll learn to fucking appreciate that."
"How do you know I'm not going to tell the cops about you the first chance I get?"
"That'd be a REALLY stupid move from your part. And we both know you're not stupid."
Conrad leaned forward. His nose was almost touching Jules'.
"And I think that as terrified as you are of me, you can't help but want to know more about me. I've opened the door, Jules. The scary world of the big, bad wolves. Not the fucking anti-werewolf propaganda on TV, but the real deal. The forbidden world. The place where angels fear to thread."
Jules turned away, avoiding the werewolf's gaze.
"Stop acting like you know me. You don't. You're right to say I don't know anything about werewolves, not for real. But you don't know anything about me either."
Conrad took a couple of steps back, and took another drag from his smoke. He seemed to consider Jules for a moment.
"You're right, Jules. I can smell a lot of stuff on you. I see you way better than any human will ever see you. But I shouldn't act like I really know you. I'll give you that."
The werewolf boy grabbed a pair of sneakers from the plastic bag. He slip his feet into them, and started tying them up.
"You and me, said Conrad. Tomorrow night. We go to the movies."
"What is that, a date?"
Conrad nodded his head pensively.
"Yeah. Yeah, you can call it that. And if I'm in a good mood, I might even tell you how I became a werewolf. So if I'm wrong and you don't care, don't show up. Hell, I might even leave you alone after that, but don't expect me to move to slightest finger to protect you in the future."
Conrad started making his way towards a staircase at the far end of the immense room.
"But if I'm right, he continued, his voice echoing in the vast space, you'll be there, because you have a chance at touching the real deal. And who knows, maybe you'll even get head again, you little queer."
TO BE CONTINUED