A different take on the traditional M/M werewolf romance topic: less romantic, less traditional, more disturbing and with conniving wolves, vampires and submissive marines.

Comments or requests for more of Meta (& the Marines) can be emailed to Meta.JohnAR@gmail.com.

Depending on reception, I will post more chapters.

And if any military boy wants to start a MetaPack, let me know ...


Meta & the Marines



Colt cringed. He recognized this voice; and he cringed like the first time he had heard it. Nevertheless he tried to be polite -- again like the first time -- stopped walking and turned around, putting up a forced friendly face when looking at the tall lanky man approaching him with a wave. "Hi, Hank."

"I haven't seen you for ages."

"Well, busy I guess. How are you?"

"Oh, doing fine. I mean lots of studying and all the community work."

"Still in the LGTB campus association then?" Colt asked, knowing Hank would be; he was that kind of `type.' And he knew he would get `a speech' if Hank had known that Colt referred to him as `that kind of type.'

"President now but handing over soon."

"Congratulations. I'm positive you're doing a great job," Colt tried to accelerate his steps to get away but Hank was much too tall to be outrun by small Colt.

"Thanks, I mean it's a lot of work; and the dean is a closet homophobe; and all the problems we have with the frats. I mean they still discriminate against openly gay pledges." Hank looked at him kind of demanding Colt being outraged at this Stone Age behavior.

"That's really not acceptable. I need to ..."

"Absolutely, that's what I told the dean. And I made it clear to him we would put the nation's media spotlight on this campus if he didn't fix this."

Colt smiled briefly before putting up a busy face again. Seemed the university got blackmailed quite a bit. "It was ..."

"So why did you stop coming to our meetings?" Hank asked ignoring any attempts by Colt to get away.

"Well, you know, work, and class."

"Come on, Colt. You're an A student, school isn't too much for you ..."

"Well, it's okay. Still, I wasn't sure that was the best way to spend my time," he tried to be diplomatic.

"That's a shame. I mean the Hank and Colt duo was quite ... dynamic." Hank laughed at his own joke.

"Well, for some time." Colt didn't really want to tell Hank the two reasons why he didn't come to the gathering of the LGBT club anymore. Hank would call him, first, homophobic and, second, be insulted by the rejection: When Colt had joined the group, even if not formally, he'd quickly realized this wasn't for him. And he'd realized he was homophobic. He couldn't deal with the conversations about Lady Gaga and the latest fashion trends; he was barely capable of describing colors beyond the basic blue, green, yellow and red. Fuchsia and salmon didn't do anything to him. He cringed every time somebody spoke through his nose and put his hand to his chest imitating a well-endowed opera diva. He wasn't attracted to any of the guys, most of who were too thin or too thick or had too long hair or too colored hair or wore too fashionable glasses or too skintight shirts in fuchsia and salmon. And he was basically appalled by the lesbians in their lumberjack shirts and fake butch haircuts, who thought chain-smoking gave them an attractive voice. Once he'd thought all of these images had been just cliché, but in this group he'd found all of these cliché painfully and accurately fulfilled.

Some of the guys and few of the girls actually were quite nice and funny, so he could have had accepted being exposed to some of the more revolting aspects, kind of `stretching his comfort zone;' but then he'd realized Hank was hitting on him, and that had been too much.

Hank was smart but had made his homosexuality the focal point of his life; he was the loud queer college poster-boy fighting for LGBT tolerance, equality and rights 24/7. His super-tight T-shirt over his super lean body, designer jeans, dyed blond hair and small nose piercing made him look so queer at first glance, that Colt had never been able to be attracted to him even for one second. He'd often asked himself why he'd never been able to get beyond Hank being so queerly feminine, something he didn't find attractive at all, but actually considered quite repulsive. He knew Hank's explanation: Of course, he only felt like that because he was afraid of his own feminine side, Hank would have analyzed, as it contradicted the `conventional gender roles.'

"So this is also your last term, isn't it?" Hank seemed to have made the decision not to leave Colt alone soon.

"Yes, finally."

"I know; it's so exciting. I'm going for a PhD on the East Coast," Hank said.

`Gender studies?' Colt wanted to ask, but bit his lips. "That sounds great."

"Will be. So ...," Hank stopped for a second, touching Colt's upper arm with his long thin fingers. "Man, are you hard now, do you work out?"

"A bit."

"Knew it, always known you are a closet jock."

Colt laughed louder than normally. "I didn't know those existed."

"Come on, most gays want to be jocks, normally just to get into the pants of straight jocks, but nevertheless ..."

"I know your concept of relational duplication," Colt remembered Hank's sociological theories he'd loved to discuss frequently and extensively in the group. At a certain moment he'd gotten bored with them and became kind of scared. If Hank was right, he would have to become a 220 lbs. hunk to get laid by a hunk; and he knew that he would never get there.

"You've always challenged me on that. Miss that, most others are so impressionable and cannot form an independent thought if their lives depended on it," Hank dismissed the other members of his LGBT group.

"You know I've always been oppositional; it's kind of an attention seeking syndrome."

Hank ignored Colt's self-revelation and asked instead, stepping even closer into Colt's personal space: "So, is there anyone special in your life currently?"

Colt hesitated for a second, but then scolded himself. He decided not to take step back to reestablish some body distance. "Actually there is."

Hank's eyes showed a mix of excitement and jealousy. "Great. Is that why you didn't come anymore?"

If Colt had thought that Hank had been truly interested in Colt's happiness for one second, that question had set him straight quickly. "No, I met him much later. Anyway, I ..."

"I mean, so many just come to the group to see whether they find a fuck buddy there. I mean, really? That's what Grindr is for."

"I guess so ..."

In this moment a big guy approached them. Colt noticed Hank instinctively braced himself for a homophobic comment or even physical bullying. He nearly felt sorry for him.

"Hi, Colt," the deep voice said as butch as possible.

"CE, didn't expect you. Class already over?" Colt was surprised to see his first enforcer here, but masked it perfectly.

"Yep, was looking for you ..." CE said with a slightly seductive voice.

Colt frowned a bit. Surely, the enforcer didn't think he was interested in Hank so he had to intervene. He was so not in the mood for one of his Alpha's possessive scenes when he came home -- because of Hank!

"Hi, I'm Hank," the president of the campus LGBT group introduced himself intrigued, although Colt thought that it was actually called LGBTQ now. Soon they would need a booklet to explain what every letter stood for.

CE showed a strongly friendly grin and shook the offered hand. "CE, Colt's boyfriend."

Hank's eyes grew large. Looking at Colt he said: "I wasn't aware you were into bears."

"Not a bear," CE growled, "just big."

"Okay, I stand corrected: I wasn't aware you liked them sooo big."

Colt didn't know what to say. He'd never seen CE role-playing like this. He was pretty sure it hadn't been his idea.

"Always liked big muscles, isn't that so, pit bull?" Colt teased. He could play the game as well, he thought with a little smirk.

CE growled. As expected he didn't fully appreciate to be called a dog. At least a pit bull was a big and fearsome breed. "I know you do, Sir," he upped the ante as retaliation.

Hank got even more confused. "'Sir?' I mean, are you guys in that BDSM stuff?" His eyes seemed to widen even more when he briefly looked at Colt and back at CE, who kept up the naughty charade pulling the chain from under his T-shirt and wiggling it teasingly at Hank, who blushed.

Colt wasn't sure what he should be more amused about, CE's convincing act or Hank's shock.

"Wow. Colt, if I had known ..."

"Wouldn't have made a difference, unless you'd formed a `sub' group of former soldiers ..." Colt explained tongue in cheek, having decided to join CE's game to the end.

Hank swallowed. "You were a soldier?"

"Marine. My owner is just teasing me."

"Bummer. `Owner?' Well, I hope you guys keep it safe, sane and consensual," Hank recovered from his shock giving the LGBT president lecture.

"What's that?" CE asked innocently.

"That I shouldn't fuck you bare," Colt answered smugly. "Or that I shouldn't rape you against your will when you are roped up."

Hank was clearly oscillating between outrage and sexual interest. "You do ..."

"I wasn't I aware I had rights ...," CE pretended victim status with a pouty mouth and an over-the-top teddy bear look in his face.

"Yeah, never liked the idea of safe words, gives the bottom the power," Colt continued dismissively.

"Safe word?"

"Your `stop' word," Hank explained.

Colt wondered for a second why Hank was so informed about this scene, but didn't want to learn more about it.

"I can have a `stop' word?" CE asked like a child who had found out that one can own more than one pair of shoes.

"You big tease you," Colt reprimanded him, pulling him closer to kiss him on his mouth. CE instinctively opened his mouth and enjoyed the invasion of his Meta's tongue. He knew Colt was bonered up like crazy and he hoped when they get home he could serve him as nature intended.

"You guys are fucking with me, aren't you?"

`You wish,' Colt thought, but smiled and said: "Does CE look like the kind who could be forced to do anything he wouldn't want?"

Hank smiled, his worldview being reestablished. "No, I mean ..."

CE took Colt's hand like a teenager girl in love and walked in between Colt and Hank. Colt smiled at the amusing gesture by his enforcer.

"So, CE, what are you reading?"

"Law enforcement."

Hank's eyes became glazy. The thought of big CE in police uniform seemed to shove aside all of Hank's LGBT agenda against the heteronormative-suppressive world. "How interesting," he said, meaning `how fucking sexy, creaming into my pants right now.'

"Pays the bills, and my top here loves handcuffs." CE nodded at his favorite nerd.

Colt blushed a bit giving CE a stern look, which meant: `You are so going to pay for that,' which made CE respond with a hungry look saying `Promise?'

"Colt, Colt ... maybe you do have your hunky name for a reason," Hank smiled at the memory that their Colt and Hank butch names had always been a source of amusement within the LGBT(Q) community.

"Anyway, we have to ..."

"I should have known that you were a bit of a stud when this girl all love-sick about you came to our group," Hank concluded.

"Girl?" CE asked with a slight growl. "Love-sick?"

Hank seemed to be pleased that he had CE's undivided attention. "Would you believe it? Was more than two years ago, this pretty lipstick Southern girl came to our group, what a `Gone with the wind' accent." His long-fingered hand touched his chest theatrically. "All the butch lesbians were all over her, but she had only one thing on her mind: `Finding out more about the love of her life: Colt Parker.'"

"'Love of her life'?" CE asked intrigued.

"That's what she said. Well, I told her you played for the other team. Obviously, back then I didn't know which `position' you played in our team ..." Hank was just too pleased with his pun.

CE chuckled, rubbing his cute nose on Colt's shoulder like a good little affectionate bottom.

"... but she wouldn't listen and wanted to know everything about you: about your major, your parents, your hobbies, even your favorite actor," Hank recounted.

"Actor?" Colt asked confused.

"Well, told her Tom Cruise."

"What?" CE asked with a bit of surprise.

"Tom Cruise in Top Gun; hot in his leather jacket," Colt explained absentmindedly, trying to digest the new information.

"Oh, I said Tom Cruise in Vampires. My bad," Hank remembered.

Colt quickly thought through the implications of that additional information and he was not pleased. "Anyway, do you remember her name?"

Hank frowned as if he could force the memory through the power of his will. "It was one of those typical old-fashioned Southern names -- I mean she put it on a bit thick -- MarySue I think."


"Could very well be. Is quite some time ago."

"And when was that?"

"The term after we had met in the group."

Colt nodded. So MaryAnn seemed to have collected info on him before he met her in a basic marketing class in his third term and got to know her better in the Mcfuckmyass business class.

"I mean, I didn't tell her too much, but she was quite heart-broken," Hank defended himself.

`Heart-broken my ass,' Colt thought. `What a bitch.' Finally he said out loud: "Anyone else checking up on me when I was gone?"

There was a small break as if Hank was trying to collect his memories. "Not that I'm aware off, Al left the group soon after you were gone. But we'd always known that this goon had a crush on you ..." Hank's wrist was hanging a little bit too loose off his arm.

"Have we?" Colt only remember an Al helping him to get candy from a broken vending machine and sending him despising looks pretty much thereafter.

"He is quite a magnet, isn't he?" CE said referring to Colt with a smitten look.

"Anyone else?" Colt asked Hank in a tone that meant: `We're done.'

Hank hesitated again for a bit and Colt braced himself for another hidden admirer, when they were interrupted.

"So here you are, stud," another voice joined them.

Colt moaned. Prime. Now he knew why CE was playing that prank on him; surely Prime would join in and screw with Hank's mind completely. He wondered whether the wolves tried to build his reputation of a super stud who could get anyone into his bed.

"And you are?" Hank asked quickly licking his lips.

"Prime." Prime offered his hand generously, and made a point to squeeze Hanks's a bit too hard.


"I belong to Colt," Prime said not completely acting but with quite some pride.

"'Belong to?' Not following," Hank asked.

"You don't think one guy is enough for this stud?" CE asked Hank with as a straight face as a former shore patrol sergeant could master.

"Wow ... I think I'm speechless ..." And that must be a rare occasion for the fag boy.

"Is there no letter in the LGBTQ soup for polyamory?" Colt asked faking a politically correct attitude. It was time to turn the tables and get out of this.

"Not that I'm aware of. I mean, you have a point. The two-person fixation is clearly routed in the traditional two gender heterosexual oppressive paradigm, which gays try to emulate by their quest for marriage equality. One could argue that it's actually a hidden heterosexualisation of non-hetero's," Hank theorized.

"Oh fuck, I have a headache," Prime complained about Hank's diarrhea of words.

"Don't worry with that pretty head of yours," Colt said icily. He wanted to add something like `let the smart men have a grown-up conversation,' but he felt that would have gone too far.

"So how does this work?" Hank said not completely uninterested.


"Well, with the three of you."

"Simple," Prime answered. "Colt says what he wants, and he gets it."

Colt suppressed a smile. In the end Prime wasn't too wrong.

"Is that so? You're wearing a chain as well?"

Prime's dismissive answer was: "Of course." He lifted it out from under his short-sleeved shirt and wiggled it a bit teasingly in front of Hank's nose.

"Isn't that humiliating ...? I mean dogs wear collars ..." Nonetheless, all three men of the pack knew that Hank wasn't shocked at all. Colt even felt how his wolves smelled the man's arousal.

"No ... dog ... here, careful," Prime modulated his voice to come across as moderately threatening promising quick escalation if needed.

"Sorry," Hank apologized quickly. "Anyway, I need to go now ...," Hank finally decided to end it.

`Most likely to wank,' Colt thought.

"Will you come to the graduation party? We are co-organizers; would be great if you were there. You can bring your boyfriend ... friends ..."

"Sure. I saw the timing is not ideal, but we'll come," Colt said quickly.

"See you there, Colt. -- Bye CE, bye Prime." Hank smiled and ran off.

"You are so in trouble, boys."

"Why? Did we do something wrong?" Prime pretended innocence.

"You basically outed us as a BDSM ménage," Colt clarified.

"Well, couldn't really talk about the vampire and wolf shifters stuff, could we?" Prime defended his actions.

Colt growled.

CE let go of Colt's hand respectfully. "I mean this guy is so hot for you, so we had to find a way to tell him to fuck off."

"By doing this?"

"Sure, he now clearly knows that he only has a chance if he drops that fag act, gains at least 70 pounds and becomes a submissive jarhead," CE said without hesitation smiling a bit too smugly.

"And I think that is pretty much close to the truth," Prime supported his enforcer.

"Okay, okay, I got it," Colt gave up lifting his hands. "Can we go home now?"

"Not really," Prime answered looking at his phone. "I think Sam's in trouble."


Sam had had a nice day until he'd taken a shortcut by the stadium to get home. Colt had fucked his mouth in the morning under the shower, CE had taught him some more kick boxing moves, making his muscles pleasantly sore, and his HR course was actually quite interesting covering human motivations. He was looking forward to a relaxed snack at home with some of his pack mates.

But at the stadium he met the two guys he really didn't want to meet again in his life: Gregg and Jeff, the two goons, who'd bullied him in his previous pack, most likely with explicit endorsement by their uncaring gamma Carl.

"Look who's here?" Gregg teased, who had gotten even a bit fatter despite his growth spurt, which should have reduced his ample fat deposits.

"The fag wolf," Jeff mockingly answered, crossing his tattooed arms over the biker shirt. It seemed Jeff still only owned biker themed T-shirts.

"Look at that tight top. `Property of CP' it says. We can clearly see your titties," Gregg continued.

"Maybe we should check whether his little dick has already fallen off and he now has a hairless cunt to go with those titties," Jeff continued.

"Guys, I don't want trouble. And I'm sure you don't want it, either." Sam had been taught by his pack to attempt de-escalation whenever possible.

"You're not trouble, we're your trouble," Gregg chuckled closing this distance, while Jeff wanted to get to his back.

Sam analyzed the situation. With his enforcer body and training he could take out both guys nowadays even if they shifted. But maybe they had friends hidden somewhere to block his flight path; it was better to let Prime know he might be in trouble. He typed `RED' in his WhatsApp screen and quickly put the phone away.

"If you guys say so," Sam reacted putting down his bag.

"So what happened with your hair, fag? Trying to be butch?" More snickers.

"No, just easier to head-butt shitheads like you," Sam answered, getting ready for the fight.

"Shitheads? Did you just call us shitheads?" Gregg asked threateningly.

"Unless you have spunked into each other's ears, I guess that's what you've heard."

That was too much for Gregg, who dashed forward without thinking fisting Sam's T-shirt with his left hand, readying his right fist for the first punch. And when he delivered the punch, Sam ducked swiftly, delivering a punch himself into the wobbly belly of his opponent. It didn't to a lot of harm except for confusing Gregg, who was surprised Sam would fight back; he never had previously.

Jeff approached Sam from behind, groping his arms from behind to attempt locking his arms, so his friend could maul the fag without resistance. Sam let it happen nearly with glee as he now could use Jeff as a lever and kick Gregg against his knee. The fat guy fell to the ground whining like a baby holding his damaged knee. A bit surprised about his own ineffectiveness, Jeff let go of Sam and intended to land a punch of his own, but Sam instinctively elbowed the biker man into his vulnerable side, landing a punch with his weaker left fist in the unshaved face of his second opponent. In disbelief Jeff touched his nose, which had started to bleed. Who was this mutt? In rage he charged towards Sam, who smoothly evaded the attack, delivering a more violent second punch with his right fist, putting Jeff to the floor as well.

For a second Sam felt primitive satisfaction about this easy victory. These two goons had made his life hell in his previous pack, and now he'd paid back. And it had been easier than a training session with CE. And he now had the satisfaction that both of them would have to crawl to their asshole gamma telling him the little fag Sam had beaten the shit out of them.

However, he was celebrating too early. Three more pack members came out of their hiding places. And he recognized two junior enforcers; that would be a much tougher fight.

But CE had taught him well. Not only would he be a worthy opponent; he also was a smart enforcer. His RED message had been received, and Colt, Prime and CE approached him this very second. CE, Prime and Sam vs. two junior enforcers and three weak or injured pack wolves. Those odds weren't bad. He just hoped Colt would get out of here quickly.

One of the junior enforcers took off his T-shirt revealing hairy pecs and shoulders.

"Nice chest, boy, but I think you should leave it on," Colt said teasingly.


Response growls.

"We don't really want to shift in broad daylight on campus, do we?" Colt said like talking to little misbehaving children.

The junior enforcer -- now Sam seemed to remember his name: Ned -- looked at the human sheepishly not sure what to say.

"I mean what would your alpha say if all these cameras here caught five young wolf shifters of the Golden Chestnut Pack shifting in broad daylight? I'm pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate such attention." His voice was calm but with a hint of the authority a reasonable argument brought with it.

Ned growled. But less aggressively and more about his own stupidity.

"So either you three fight my three wolves in human form or, even better, we all go our ways."


"What will it be ..."

"Ned," Sam whispered.

Colt didn't acknowledge Sam but added "..., Ned?"

"We're leaving, not worth fighting such a filthy pack," Ned said trying to keep his pride.

"Wise choice, boy," Colt responded, purposefully humiliating the enforcer. "And I would appreciate if you could relay a message to your gamma: Tell him if any of you ever touches Sam again, your alpha will learn you risked the exposure of the whole pack over a previous omega. Not smart."

Ned growled in acknowledgement. He motioned his two friends to help Gregg and Jeff up and to support them to get home.

"Thanks, Ned. I appreciated that. -- And Al?" The guy helping Jeff up looked up.

Prime, CE and Sam looked confusedly at Colt, who seemed to address the second Chestnut junior enforcer.

"Yes?" Unsure voice.

"Nice to meet you again."

Without any further words, the five Chestnut pack wolf shifters were gone.

Colt needed some chocolate bars now -- ideally with coconut.

They barbequed in the garden, with Colt for a change having chicken instead of beef. He was lucky Prime allowed such sissy meat to touch his sacred grill, but in the end Prime did his best not to cook it to death.

"That was the `Al' from the LGBT group?" Brian asked when he was told everything that had happened today to the other pack wolves.

"Yes, I guess another closet wolf. He's actually quite cute," Colt said, cutting his chicken breast.

Four wolves growled in unison.


"No dirty thoughts about other wolves!" Prime reprimanded firmly handing out the usual out-of-proportioned steaks to his pack.

"Oh, I'm not even allowed to think about it?" Colt asked with a smile.

"Correct. You're ours. Completely," Prime confirmed with a smirk in his face threatening with his grill utensils.

"Is that so? But he's cute. His Mohawk is very sexy," Colt insisted, just to make a point. And the boys knew it.

"I can grow a Mohawk if you want me to," Sam said quickly.

Colt smiled. It might actually suit him. His men were so eager, it made him stiff.

"Seems to work, Sam, keep it coming," Brian suggested picking up the scent of arousal.

"Maybe we should make it the required hair style for junior enforcers," CE suggested.

"I guess you have grown out of that?" Sam responded with a smile, touching the cropped hair on his head with his hands, obviously imagining himself with a Mohawk.

"So, Prime, what do you think really went on today?" Colt changed the subject, attacking his second chicken breast.

"Not following."

"Well, there we have Hank, who has ignored me for years and suddenly he was all chatty, and then we have those Chestnut goons, who couldn't be bothered with Sam for the whole fucking year and today they provoked a little fight ... coincidence?" Colt summarized the events Colt-style.

Brian shook his head with a smile. "Knowing you, you already know what's going on."

"That's no fun, if you don't play, Brian. I think you know that sentiment," Colt answered.

"So you think they are collecting info?" CE asked, ignoring the banter.

"I think so. Hank was a bad choice because he got totally horny meeting Prime ..."

"Not true," Prime protested. "He was horny for you."

"He might have been interested in me, which might have included the thought of lovely vanilla sex -- which I've never been into and would never do with Hank. But when he saw you he was filled with primal gay lust."

"I think I cannot leave you guys unattended ...," Brian concluded.

"If he'd seen you as well, he'd have gotten a heart attack," CE chuckled. "Joking aside: They seem to have been checking out Sam's strength."

Colt nodded. "Yes, they did that. More info for them. I have the feeling something is going to happen soon."

"When?" Sam asked naïvely.

Colt shrugged with his shoulders scratching the left one as usual. "Don't know, but we have only few weeks left until we leave for summer ..."

Prime put the thought aside: "So you like the Mohawk enforcer boy?"

Colt wrinkled his forehead. "Sorry, still there, Prime?"

"Yes, I mean, did you smell him?"

Colt shook his head. "No. I don't think we're ready to take on another pack member right now ... we still haven't initiated Isaac."

Silence, they missed the blond marine. They hadn't heard anything from him in the past five months -- special top-secret assignment. He could even have been killed over there without them knowing.

"To Isaac!" CE raised his beer bottle.

"May he return home safely," Prime added.

They took a big gulp, and continued to eat silently with their thoughts with blond marine so far away.

"By the way, Seb will visit us as promised," Prime said to cheer them up a bit.

"Great! Looking forward to spend some time with him," Brian reacted genuinely pleased. He felt Seb could use some Beta counsel given that he wasn't an alpha wolf but having alpha wolves as father and brother.

"When?" Colt asked.

"Your graduation day," Prime responded turning some more steaks on the grill; for the chicken he used a separate set of tongs.

Colt shook his head with little smile, which faded when his brain told him that he had overlooked something important.