Tenderness of Wolves

THE TENDERNESS OF WOLVES

The following story contains sex acts between male teenagers and between male and female teenagers where consent can be 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.

There are also some elements that could be triggering for survivors of sexual abuse.

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! :)

CHAPTER 9 -- Jacob

His brother was in some unspeakable trouble with werewolves, yet Jacob could do no better than end up getting sucked off for a bag of weed.

He was still grasping at how it had happened. She had been a girl from the 9th grade -- at least a year older than him -- a pretty redhead who dressed like a hippie, with braided bracelets, hemp clothing -- all that jazz. He'd seen her around a bunch of times, although at the time he hadn't known her name. She had accosted him in the school hallway near the end of the day, while he was about to make his way to the fountain for a couple of hours of hanging out and pushing dope.

"Hey sweetie. You're Jake, right?"

"Yeah. Need anythin'?"

It was a vague enough question he had gotten into the habit of asking strangers who addressed him. He was signaling he was open for business, but no one could call him out on making sketchy offers, and the people who were too clueless to require his services were left none the smarter.

"You know, green's my favourite colour."

"Yeah, I can do green. Green's good. Green's healthy. Come meet me at the fountain, we can do some more talkin'."

She had brushed her hair out of her face.

"I don't have any money though."

He had shaken his head.

"Sorry, green needs dough. It's a tough life."

The situation had not particularly fazed him up to that point. Part of being a pusher meant that people often asked you to get them high for free. He'd do it for friends, within reason. He'd even offer a bit of credit to people he knew -- never too much, that's how trouble started. But strangers needed to realize he wasn't a charity. Even pretty girls -- they knew their looks could get them favours, and giving in to that was bad for business.

"I can pay you in nature", she had horsed around.

Jake had chuckled.

"Yeah, right."

She had leaned close to his ear. Her breath had been a warm caress that smelled of cinnamon.

"I wouldn't mind sucking you off", she had whispered. "How much green would that get me?"

Heat had rushed up to Jacob's face, and blood had begun running down to his dick. The world had spun. That couldn't have happened. His brains had computed thousands of thoughts. 'Is this for real?' 'Should I say yes?' 'Is she makin' fun of me?' 'Oh God, a girl wants to suck my dick!' 'How much weed should say?' 'If I say a gram she'll think I'm cheap, a whole ounce she'll think I'm desperate...' 'Shit, I'm gonna give her weed for a blowjob!'

Jacob was quick on his feet. Almost instantly after she had asked her question, he had replied.

"I dunno, I'd say three grams sounds fair."

He had tried to come off nonchalant, but his voice had broken a little.

"Sounds good to me", she had said, still whispering to his ear. "Meet me in the boys' bathroom in 15 minutes. Most people will be gone from the school."

"What about cameras? They'll see you get in there."

"Don't worry about it. I've done that before. See ya, sweetie."

Minutes later, he had gotten his first blowjob. Then they had met later at the fountain to complete their trade -- there was no way in hell Jake would deal on school grounds. She had smiled knowingly at him as she'd left with her score. Jake had been left horny, confused, and rattled. He had just traded sex for weed. His body wanted more, but is mind was caught in a spiral of questions and guilt.

Did Jesus mind him doing that?

It wasn't the sex. He wasn't one of those weird kids who thought sex before marriage was a sin. Sex was natural, and it was something people did. Jesus wouldn't mind that. Jacob hadn't expected to do it until he was much older though. Was he too young for what she had just done to him? She was older; that left him both proud and wondering if she had taken advantage of him.

It wasn't the drugs either. He was only peddling weed, none of the harder stuff. Weed just made you happy, although it sometimes left you feeling weirded out. But nobody died from it, and in Jacob's opinion, weed was leagues better than booze. His father had drowned himself in the bottle. He loved his Dad, yet hated what had happened to him. There were times when he'd come home, and he'd had to fight back tears. He just wanted his father to be better. But he had had to accept the terrible truth: maybe Dad was broken and would never get better -- alcohol and grief had destroyed him. Jake also missed his mother terribly, but he had moved on. He was in school, got decent grades, avoided trouble, and had his business. No, Jesus wouldn't mind the drugs; it made his life better.

But had it been right to trade them for sex? It sounded like something the pimps who hit the girls who worked for them did. He knew women who sold sex for drugs. He talked with them sometimes. They complained about bad clients, and in a quieter tone, about the procurers who took their cut for "protection". Jake loathed these men and wanted nothing to do with them. Yet he'd said yes to that girl. She'd sucked his dick, and even swallowed his come, for a bag of weed. He wasn't sure Jesus liked that. It felt wrong.

He left the fountain shortly after she'd picked up her prize. He'd pulled out his phone, and he had called his best friend, Matthew.

"Hey, bud! 'Sup?"

"You home?", replied Jacob. "I wanna drop by."

He hesitated a second.

"Somethin' weird just happened to me. I need to talk."

"Sure. My parents won't be there until 6:30, I got the place to myself."

Jake smiled. He wouldn't mind some privacy with Matthew.

"Chill. Be there in 5."

"Cool."

Jacob walked along Ontario Street. It was busy this late in the afternoon, with shoppers milling about to pick up a thing or three before supper. The Haitian kid also felt safer there, on the main street of the neighbourhood. He and his brother's encounter with the militia a few days back had left him rattled. He wished he had Jules' nerve. His elder brother had seemed completely unfazed by the incident. He hadn't known his bro to be so cool.

His thoughts drifted to his brother, to the sight of the frightening wound on his shoulder. How had that happened? People who ran into werewolves rarely got away with just one bite -- they rarely got away at all. Had it been a fluke? Had Jules been bitten yet had managed to escape? This sounded so unlikely. Why didn't he want to say what had really happened? He had spent the night away from home without warning, without a call to say he was safe, coming up with a lousy lie to cover for it. He had come back late to school, with a Wolf bite to show for his escapade. What was Jules up to? Jacob was the younger sibling, but he wasn't a fool. He knew something was very wrong with his older brother.

As he was nearing his friend's place, a black police van drove next to Jake on the street, its crawling, deliberate space a statement and a reminder that the cops were watching. The Haitian boy dug his hands a bit deeper into his coat's pockets, and lowered his head. He didn't like cops. They were of course a risk in his business, although they cared little about a small time pusher like him who dealt only in weed. But cops always gave off a rotten vibe, always ready to threaten, always ready to bully. The van eventually passed him. Jacob breathed more easily, the oppressive hand of surveillance leaving his shoulder.

Minutes later, he made it to the condos on the corner of Valois Avenue. They had been built around the time he was born, before the Weres. They had been meant for well-off people, but the monsters had scared them off from a neighbourhood as shaky as Hochelaga. Still, some people had moved in nonetheless, at a bargain price. The tall buildings were getting a bit run down, but they were a decent place for people with not too much money who still wanted to own their place. Matthew's mom was a primary school teacher and his father was a cop. That left them with enough dough to buy an apartment and many of life's luxuries, but not quite to move to a safer part of the city. So they had moved there a few years ago.

He called Matthew again.

"Yo, buzz me in."

"Sure."

Moments later, he heard the aggravating electric sound signaling the door unlocking. Jake wondered who thought of making mechanisms with noises so unpleasant. He walked in, and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. He could have taken the elevator, but the stairs were good for his fitness. Jacob liked to keep in good shape. He reached door 405 and knocked. Matthew opened up.

"Hey bud."

They exchanged a quick but elaborate handshake.

"Go to my room, I'll get us some Pepsi."

"Sure."

Unlike Jake's own home, the condo where Matthew and his parents lived was spotless. The fridge was always full of food. There was a flat, widescreen HD television and many game consoles. Matthew never came home to his father drunk, and there was a mother to come home to. Jacob crossed the dining room and walked into Matthew's room. It was a bit disorderly unlike the rest of the apartment, a boy's room. It used to be rather plain, but posters had begun to make their way to the walls over the past year: Jay-Z, Lil Wayne, a tasteful but suggestive photograph of Rihanna (Matthew had acquired a taster for darker women from his best friend). Jacob has seen the evolution of that bedroom over the years; he and Matthew had been friends since the third grade. His best bud had recently graduated from a single to a double bed; it left Jake a tad envious. He sat on the end of the new bed, and he allowed himself to lie down for a few seconds, enjoying the plushness of

the new mattress. He sat back up when Matt walked in, bearing two frothy mugs of cola.

"Fuckin' love your bed. All ya need now is a girl."

His Asian friend shook his head, embarrassed or annoyed. He was shy with girls, unlike Jacob. He handed the Haitian boy his drink. Jake took a sip of the delicious, fizzy sugar in liquid form.

"So wazzup?", asked Matt. "You're usually at the fountain at this hour."

"Didn't feel like workin'. Had stuff on my mind."

"A chick?"

Jake sighed. Was he this obvious?

"Yeah..."

He nudged the nearby desk chair with the tip of his foot. It rolled on the floor a few inches further, out of his reach. With other friends, he would have played it cool, maybe bragged a little. But it would have been bullshit. There was no bullshit between he and Matt. They were real.

"A girl blew me in the school bathroom."

"Whoa. Seriously?"

"For weed."

Matt made a clucking sound with his tongue.

"I'm not sure if that's cool or if it ain't", continued Jake. "It's kinda weird."

"Did she... did she looked like she enjoyed it?"

Jake remembered that she -- Annie, her name was Annie; he had asked her before they'd begun -- that Annie had smiled as she was unzipping his pants. She had looked up to him with a happy, playful grin. The way she had... worked him up afterwards had been nothing if enthusiastic.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think she wanted it."

"Then it's not so bad. Maybe she already wanted your cock, and she scored some weed on top of that."

Jacob chuckled.

"That'd make me the fool, man."

"A very happy fool. Wouldn't mind getting fooled like that."

Both boys did not speak for a little while, sipping their pop. Matthew eventually broke the silence.

"So... what's it like?"

Jake let out a timid giggle.

"Nerve-wracking."

He had been shaking like a leaf as she had pulled down his boxers. She had placed her soft, warm hand on his thigh, and he had been afraid she'd notice. 'You have a nice one', she had said, looking at his dick. He had been rock hard.

"And the most awesome thing ever", he added.

He noticed Matt licking his lips. He knew his friend wanted to hear details. There was little shyness between them about sex: watching porn together had become one of their sleepover rituals, along with a few things more, and they had shared fantasies they had about girls. Jake decided to indulge his best friend and share a little. After all, he had been the lucky one. Maybe Matt was right: maybe what had happened was okay if Annie had liked it.

"It was after almost everyone had left school, ya know? She told me to wait for her in the dudes' bathroom. I walked in there and couple of minutes later, she walked in with a hoodie, to hide her face from the cameras."

He had let her into the stall. The big, hooded sweater had not been advantageous to her curves, but Jake had thought she looked pretty in it. He liked girls with hoodies who smoked weed.

"What did she look like? I don't know her, do I?"

"She told me she was called Annie. She's older, in the 9th grade, I think."

Matt shook his head.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"Didn't know her either. Man, that's kinda filthy, letting her blow me when I didn't even know her."

"I wouldn't complain if that happened to me. She was cute?"

Jake nodded. She actually put to shame most of the girls with whom he had made out in the past.

"She locked the bathroom stall door behind her. She reached for my pants right away. I kinda wish we got to kiss a bit first."

He wouldn't have minded fondling her a bit either. He had realized in his few experiences with making out that stroking a girl's breasts was one of his favourite things. Tits seemed like they were made to melt in a boy's hand. But she hadn't left him with the opportunity to explore her body. She had been quick to go to the score, either eager to conclude their transaction, or hungry for what Jacob had in his underwear.

"She pulled my pants down, and she started feeling my dick up through my boxers. You'd have jizzed yo' pants right away, Matt."

"Fuck you."

"Nah, I save that for the ladies."

He moistened his mouth with a bit of cola. Recalling the scene had given him a hard-on again. He shifted on the bed. He noticed Matt seemed to be sporting some wood too: a telltale bump marked his loose cargo pants.

"She took out my cock and she began to play with my balls with her fingers. They were a bit cold; I had shivers. But it was awesome."

"What'd she do next?", asked Matthew in a hushed voice.

Jacob's best friend no longer seemed shy about asking for details. Jake figured his friend would enjoy taking care of his woodie. They'd jerked off together before, there wasn't much point in pretending Matt didn't want that.

"Ya can rub one out, bud. I don't mind. I know yer horny."

An embarrassed chuckle escaped Matt's lips.

"Thanks, bro."

"Meh", shrugged Jacob. "Seen it before."

Matthew unbuttoned his beige pants, revealing crimson briefs, their fabric strained by his erection and stained with a droplet of precum. He tugged on the elastic waistband and let out the tip of his dick. He took it between his fingers and began to stroke it without any hurry. Jake and Matt had also compared cock sizes before, checking out on their respective growth. Matt had started puberty early and had got quite a head start, but now Jacob had almost caught up with him. He had been filling out, and not just in the biceps and abs department. He pretended not to pay too much attention to his friend masturbating, and resumed his titillating tale.

"She didn't go for my dick right away. She kissed my balls first, and sucked on them a bit, and she took my cock in her hand. You got no idea how awesome it feels when it's someone else who does it, man."

"I bet."

"Aah, but the real prize was just comin', ya know?"

She had treated his balls with a gentleness only a girl could have, and her tugging on his hard-on had been a caress much lighter than the ones he usually reserved for his dick. It had been different, and that difference in touch was what had made the sensations so precious.

"She began kissin' my shaft, man, all the way up to the tip. I swear, she knew what she was doin'. I was tinglin' all over."

"Did she take it in her mouth?"

"You bet."

He had been overwhelmed by what had been happening to him. The thought of being in a bathroom stall with a girl he didn't know, of doing this because she wanted weed hadn't left him alone. There had been a self-consciousness that had haunted him. Yet he had found himself incapable of stopping this. She had been savouring him, and when she had swallowed his dick head, he discovered sweetness he had not known existed.

With his best friend masturbating next to him, Jacob decided he wanted to come again. He had shot a load barely more than an hour before, but it's as if the sex had made him crave more instead of appeasing his needs. If Matt was going to rub one out, he might as well do it to. He unbuttoned his pants and lowered his zipper, and he slid his cock out through his boxer slit.

"Man, I can't get her off my mind", he said.

Matt nodded in agreement. Jacob wrapped his hand around his boner and began milking it for pleasure.

"Like, it was the softest, nicest thing evah, ya know? She started slow, but she had rhythm."

"Did she swallow?"

He had whispered a warning to Annie as he had been about to shoot -- not TOO soon, but still after what had felt like a too short a time. Instead of stopping, she had grabbed his bum and pushed him forward, making him bury his dick all the way to the base in her mouth (not that he was particularly big -- he had been self-conscious about that too, black men were supposed to be big). He had lost control and spilled his come right there.

"Yeah, she swallowed. She swallowed it all, there was just a bit left on her lips. I think I came a lot. It felt like a lot."

"God, I wished that happened to me. You're always the one who gets lucky."

It was true. Matt wasn't funny looking, but he didn't know how to talk to girls. Jake talked to everyone, and he'd found out early on that he could also talk with girls -- or listen to them, nod, joke around to make them laugh. It worked, and girls were often willing to snog with him. He wished Matt would know how good girls felt like.

Instead, all he'd get for now was his stories.

The boys kept rubbing their dicks in near silence, their ragged breaths and the noise of flesh beating on flesh the only sounds they made. Then Matt lied down on his bed and pulled up his t-shirt all the way up to his neck, to clear the way for his jizz. He muffled a grunt, and he sprayed his stomach. A couple of shots made it all the way to his chest. Matt always came a lot, and often first.

Jacob lied next to him and pulled his shirt up too, revealing his flat belly. He was almost there: his semen wanted to make its way out, promising primitive pleasure if the boy allowed it to happen. He stroked a bit more, pushing himself across that wondrous threshold. He was louder than Matt when he came. Pearly withe come landed on the dark skin of his toned abs. He liked the sight, that of his seed on the muscles he was working hard to cultivate.

Matt grabbed a box of tissues and tore off a few sheets, which he handed to Jake. The boys cleaned up their mess in a silence that held some awkwardness. They were used to the routine -- it pretty much happened whenever Jacob stayed for a sleepover, which was often. But in the minutes after blowing their loads, in those minutes where the urge for sex vanished, the whole thing always felt a bit weird, a bit gay.

Jacob didn't think he liked gay. Nothing to do with Jesus: Jesus loved everyone, that's why he was Jesus. It wouldn't make sense for the Christ to not love the gays too. But the Haitian youth didn't want another boy to make a pass at him; it would gross him out. He was okay jerking off with Matt. They had set rules -- no touching each other -- to make sure nothing they'd do was gay. He trusted his Asian friend to not pull off any weird shit on him. Anyhow, Jake knew they both loved girls way too much to be gay.

Matthew and Jacob pulled their pants back up and their shirts back down. The Asian boy finally broke the silence.

"You're still a lucky bastard, nigger. I wish that shit happened to me."

Matt was one of the very few people who could get away with calling Jake the N-word.

"Come on, man, you'll get some too someday. You look damn fine, and you can dress. Ya just need more practice talkin' to the ladies."

Both boys dressed to look like players. Matt's parents made enough money so that cool clothes were not a problem. As for Jacob, he had inherited his big brother's talent at thrift shopping for clothes, but he had far better taste and style than Jules. Also, his recent fortunes in business allowed him to buy a few really nice things; he was in love with his brand new basket Nikes -- they were slick. He and Matt had also been swapping clothes recently; the boys were pretty much the same size. No, neither looks nor style were Matthew's problem.

"I'm shy. Never know what to tell them ladies."

He sighed.

"You ever get scared a Wolf will get you?", asked Matthew. "Sometimes I'm afraid that a Wolf will get me and that I'll die a virgin."

Jacob thought of the broad wound scabbing over the dark flesh of his brother's shoulder. He ran a hand through his coarse dreadlocks.

"Man, I got somethin' else to tell you. You gotta fuckin' swear you won't tell a living soul."

Matthew threw him a sideways glance.

"Bro, what's up? Why so serious all the fucking sudden?"

The words caught for a moment in Jake's throat. He shouldn't be talking about his big brother's secret. But it had gnawed at him for days, boring holes in his brain. Also, Jules hadn't been the same since that night he hadn't come home.

"Jules, my big bro..."

Guilt welled up in Jake. 'Shut up', he thought, 'bros keep their bros' secrets.'

"...he got bitten."

Matt made a sound with his tongue.

"No shit?"

"Man, I'm not fuckin' kidding you. He showed me. It was nasty shit."

"How's he doing?"

Jules had behaved in a terribly cold fashion ever since it had happened. Jacob knew his brother made an effort to be nice to him, to pretend nothing had changed. But he could tell there was an invisible wall between the two of them. Jules -- who definitely could not be considered by any stretch of the imagination a talkative fellow -- had clammed up, retreating into the depths of his own private world. Moreover, Jake had realized the injury had healed impossibly fast. The day after Jules had shown him the wound, Jake had accidentally walked in on his big brother stepping out of the shower -- the younger boy had a bad habit of opening closed doors without knocking. Jacob had barely gotten a glimpse, but he was positive -- all the ugly scabs had been gone from his brother's shoulder.

And Jake could swear he'd caught his brother sniffing the air for scents a bunch of times. The Haitian kid wondered if it was just his imagination acting up.

Jacob fingered the minuscule gold crucifix that hung around his neck. He weighed his words carefully.

"He's been a bit weird, but I think he's okay. Shock, ya know?"

"You're worried. Did he tell you how it happened?"

"Wouldn't say shit to me."

Matthew glanced at the alarm clock on his cluttered nightstand. It showed half past five o'clock. The Asian boy stood up.

"Let's go to my Dad's office. I got something to show you, bro."

The room that served as an office to Matt's father was off-limits when the parents were not around. It was kept under lock and key. Matthew left his room, and Jacob followed him, intrigued. Curiosity had always been a defining quality of his -- whether positive or negative was up to debate and depended on whose opinion you asked. They crossed the hallway and made it to the closed door of the office. Then Jake's friend produced a key from his pocket.

"Dude, your old man left you with the fuckin' key to his arsenal?!"

"Are you insane? He swears I'll accidentally blow my own brains out if he dares let me in there without 'adult' supervision. He forgot his keys the other day when we had the day off at school, and he called me to ask if I could bring them to him at the police headquarters."

Matt grinned.

"I made a pit stop by the tool store, and I got a copy made."

"Fuckin' sweet!"

The Asian boy unlocked the door, and they walked in. The office's walls were lined up with glass cabinets. Albert Ho's hobby -- much to the chagrin of his wife and to the enjoyment of his only son (along with his best friend) -- was collecting weapons. Being a commander in the anti-werewolf squads helped: the man had access to some particularly impressive toys. The cabinet to Jacob's left mostly held handguns and small arms, but there was also a 9mm UZI in there. Behind the desk at the center of the office were kept the assault weapons; the Haitian boy was pretty much certain a recognized a modified M4 in the case, along with a couple of rifles. The collection would hardly be complete without the couple of crossbows and the pulley bow hanging on the right wall -- they were essential to the would-be werewolf hunter. Those weapons were the most effective way of delivering a wound envenomed with wolfsbane, and crossbow bolts and arrows had a knack for

staying stuck in their target, making regeneration impossible unless the Wolf stopped to pluck them out. These also had nothing to do with medieval weapons either; everything was military grade, made with the most advanced materials and engineering available.

"Wicked!", said Jake.

"I'll ask my Dad to take us to the firing range someday. We can fire a few of these babies."

"Really?! I thought he'd never let you do that."

Matthew shook his head.

"He's brought it up a couple of times now. The Wolf population is increasing -- they're sure of it. He wants me to be able to defend myself if things ever went to shit."

Jake let out a low whistle.

"Heavy. They're really that worried?"

"Yep. They're not letting the public know. You keep your mouth shut about that."

Jacob nodded.

"You know ya can count on my 'discretion', man."

"I know."

Matt fist-bumped him on the shoulder.

"He'd let me come to the shooting gallery too, ya think?"

"I have him wrapped around my finger. I'll nag 'til he says yes."

Jacob giggled. Matt's old man was stern, and a cop, but he could be cool when the fancy struck him.

"Sweet!"

"That ain't what I wanted to show you though. Come over here."

Matthew sat down at the desk and moved the computer's mouse. Mr. Ho had not quite been persuaded to move on with the times and buy a laptop; a massive tower computer with a wide flatscreen occupied the desk instead. Matt cracked his knuckles and began typing in a password.

"Hold on -- ya got your Dad's PASSWORD?!"

"He got computer problems last week. Talked him into letting me fix it. I added a hidden keylogger to his software suite."

"Stop being an Asian nerd. I got no fuckin' idea what a keylogger is."

Matt pointed at a keyboard key.

"Key."

He then pointed at the screen.

"Logger. It logs the keys a user presses. It records everything someone types on this, including passwords. My Dad doesn't know it's there."

"Okay, okay... I get it, I'm not fuckin' retarded, you just needed to explain. So you got your Dad's password that way?"

"Passwords. Plural."

Jake cocked his head sideways.

"Whadda ya mean?"

"Look at this."

Matthew clicked on an icon, and a black command window opened, stringing one computer instruction after another. A login window then appeared at the center of the screen. It read: 'City of Montreal Police Department -- Lycanthrope Suppression Tactical Division. Enter login and password.'

"Passwords. To his computer, and to his account at the force. Every fucking thing they have on Wolves is there."

"Everything?"

Instead of replying, Matt typed in 'Albert.Ho' and a masked password. Another window opened, with tabs, sidebars, and lists. Matthew clicked on something labeled 'Strategic risk assessments'.

"Wanna get the low down on your bro being bitten? Here's what they got on that."

He clicked on 'Analysis on symptom evolution after survivor exposure'.

"It's all there."

"Fuuuuck... What's it says?"

Matt began reading the words on the screen out loud, with his Haitian friend peering over his shoulder.

"The following assessment has been put together after examinations and interviews with officers of the force and civilians who have been exposed to the lycanthrope mutation through an injury. While there is no evidence that wounds caused by lycanthrope claws can cause mutation, there is significant evidence that people bitten by a lycanthrope in any one of their physical forms exhibiting overt mutation (the so-called "feral" and "bestial" forms, to use the popular vernacular) will themselves begin to manifest symptoms of preliminary stages of lycanthrope mutation; we will refer to this stage as primary mutation. Of the 43 subjects examined exposed to lycanthrope bite injuries, 41 developed symptoms. The onset of symptoms is rapid and mutation occurs within the first 24 hours following exposure; in one case, a subject reports experiencing symptoms minutes after the bite."

"That's fast", said Jacob.

Matt nodded in agreement, and resumed his reading.

"Accelerated healing of injuries was the first and most obvious symptom and -- it should be noted -- the only physical change that is physically and medically observable. The bite wounds that triggered primary mutation heal fully in 48 to 72 hours in most cases, leaving no scar tissue, although it is sometimes longer when the extent of the injuries are particularly severe, in the case of lycanthrope victims who were savagely mauled. Medical reports from other jurisdictions also provide evidence subjects might acquire a significant increase in their immunitary capabilities. Another significant change that subjects report among other things is an acute increase in their sense of smell. Medical examination revealed no discernible changes in the olfactory systems of subjects, and it was first thought they were experiencing olfactory hallucination. Further testing, however, revealed that subjects could detect and accurately identify scents that are

normally imperceptible in the normal human olfactory range. It is of interest in this risk assessment that subjects quickly learned after the mutation to identify subtle emotional changes in other individuals in their immediate vicinity, with an accuracy that can best be described as unnerving."

Matthew looked up at his friend.

"That seems to fit the bill for your bro?"

Jake grunted in assent.

"Dude, keep on readin'. I wanna know how serious this can get."

"Subjects also described experiencing changes in their day-to-day emotional states. Many reported noticing an increased ability to concentrate in situations of stress, in particular in situations that would trigger fear or anxiety in most people. One subject -- a sergeant on a tactical intervention squad who had returned to the field following an incident in which he was bitten -- colloquially described this has "growing balls of steel", referring to an exceptional, heightened ability to keep his cool in a dangerous situation. An another emotional change to which some subjects candidly admitted was a strong increase in libido and sexual desire--"

"Wait, being bitten makes you extra horny?"

Matthew chuckled.

"Apparently so."

"Can't think of Jules bein' horny. That's just weird. He's always so... Ya know what I mean?"

"Yeah, no offense, but your bro is kind of a dork. Can't really think of him that way."

Jake nodded.

"What else does it say? I wanna know if he's gonna turn, man. This is scary shit."

His voice shook has he said those last words.

"Some subjects", continued Matt, "reported experiencing unexplainable cravings they found difficult to describe. The cravings were intermittent and frequently caused subjects to become irritable. One subject attempted this description: 'One moment, I want to eat peanuts. So I eat peanuts, but then I want a steak. So I eat a steak. But then I want to punch someone in the face. It's like there's no satisfying this. It comes and it goes, but thank God it doesn't last.'"

"That's a weird one."

"Wait, here's the bit you wanted", said Matthew. "Prolonged observation has yielded no evidence that simple exposure can lead to full mutation into a lycanthrope. We recommend tracking closely any survivor of lycanthrope attacks however."

Jake ran a hand through his thick hair.

"So he'll be cool?"

"Yeah, sounds like it. Look, I think they actually explain how people end up turning into Wolves."

Matthew began reading the final part of the report.

"More information on the mutation process was gleaned through some captive lycanthrope subjects who were confined in solitary and questioned using enhanced interrogation techniques. The information obtained from each of those subject seemed to match and depict a coherent scenario, and reflected their own experiences in triggering the full lycanthrope mutation. According to the intelligence that was gathered, full mutation is triggered in subjects who have already experienced primary mutation if they engage in --"

Matthew stopped reading out loud, mouthing the rest of the sentence in stunned silence. Jacob was reading the words over his friend's shoulder.

"Jesus Christ!", he exclaimed. "That's sick!"

"I can't believe there's actually people who do that. That's messed up."

Jacob let out a nervous chuckle.

"At least there ain't no way my bro is ever gonna do that. So I can forget about him turnin'."

"He must be having the other weird shit happening to him though. Maybe you should talk with him. Make sure he ain't in any real trouble."

Jake remained quiet for a moment. He fiddled with his gold crucifix.

"I dunno. He ain't talkin', lately."

"Check on him, at least. You're his bro."

Matt closed the report. He checked his phone.

"Dad just texted me. He's on his way from work. We oughta get going."

"Yeah, don't wanna get caught. He'll tan your fuckin' hide."

Albert Ho would actually not hurt his son, or at least Jacob didn't know anything about that. He knew however that Matt's father was a strict disciplinarian. There'd be hell to pay if he walked in and found the boys snooping in his office. Yet as Matthew was about to close the portal to the police files, something caught Jake's eye.

"Hold on, man. What's this? 'Lycanthrope worship cult under investigation in Hochelaga-Maisonneuve borough.'"

"Shit, that's right here."

"Open it."

Matt shook his head.

"Dad's coming home. We don't have time."

"C'mon, just a peek. He's downtown, he won't be here for at least 20 minutes."

"No man, we can't."

Jake put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I wanna see this. I'll fix you up with a chick."

"You can fix me up with girls and you've never said it before?"

"Hey, I need to keep some leverage. For when I need favours from friends."

Matt tried to elbow his Haitian friend in the gut, but Jacob stepped aside in time.

"Bastard", said the Asian boy. "Five minutes, no more."

"Alright."

"She'd better be smoking hot. And into sucking Asian dick."

Matthew opened the file. The teenagers began reading its content without saying a word. But quickly, a cold sweat came upon Jacob. Something sank in his gut as he deciphered the police report lingo.

"Oh shit", said the Haitian boy.

"That can't be real", whispered Matthew.

But it was there, official, confirmed, written black on white. The Wolves were home, in the boys' very neighbourhood. And they had friends. Human friends.