Date: Thu, 5 Apr 2012 17:04:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: Queer Tribes <queer_tribes@yahoo.ca>
Subject: The Tenderness of Wolves - Chapter 5

THE TENDERNESS OF WOLVES

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.

CHAPTER 5 -- Jules

The abandoned warehouse was as they had left it the previous day: vast,
empty, an eerie space that had been forgotten by a city too afraid to
venture into the dark corners. The sun had set while they made their way
there. Jules found a terrible irony in the notion that he had never felt so
safe walking the streets at night as he had right now, with a wolf in human
guise at his side. Maybe the alcohol made him bolder, but the fear of what
Conrad could do to him had receded. He remembered the Wolf's touch. The
moments ahead frightened him still, but a certain exhilaration had mingled
with the fear. The feeling reminded him of standing on the tallest diving
board at the pool -- when he had been a kid taking swimming lessons --
where the height was dizzying yet demanded to be conquered.

Conrad lit up a cigarette, the flame from his match parting the shadows for
a brief instant. The Wolf was old-fashioned that way, in his taste in
music, in using matches rather than a lighter. Even his clothes always
seemed well-loved, worn out with care. Jules started wondering if the
werewolf was not older than his human face let on.

"Conrad?"

The Wolf took a drag from his smoke.

"Yes?"

"How old are you?", asked the human boy. "I mean... are you the age that
you look like?"

Conrad chuckled.

"And how old do I look?"

It was actually difficult to put an age on his face. He could pass for 18,
but he could as easily be younger than older. Jules could only narrow it
down to the late teens.

"You'd tell me that you're 19, and I'd believe it just as much as if you
told me that you're 16. But that's not what I mean."

He paused, and started talking again.

"Do werewolves age like us? You can shapeshift, heal, and you said you had
extreme control over your body... So it wouldn't be too surprising if you
looked younger than what you really are."

Conrad nodded.

"Yeah, I understand what you mean. We're not vampires like that Edward
Cullen fag; we age like you guys. But yeah, people that I know who have
been Wolves for a while tend to look good for their age. I suppose that we
age gracefully."

"So, how old are you?"

"I'm almost 16. You and I are pretty much the same age, I think."

Jules considered the werewolf boy.

"You look older."

"I started puberty early. I've always been precocious."

Light from the street filtered through the broken windows, but most of the
large room remained hushed in darkness. Jules' eyes had grown accustomed to
it; he could make out Conrad's features, and see where to step without
tripping. He walked towards one of the windows, his stride somewhat
unsteady -- for the first time in his life, he was drunk. He liked it. He
wondered if he could do what he was about to do if he had been sober. He
gazed outside through the window. The street was empty, except for a lonely
car driving by. He looked up at the clear sky. The moon was half-full.

He turned to face Conrad. The werewolf had changed to his more feral
aspect, and he was examining Jules while he finished his cigarette. The
transformation did not truly surprise Jules; he had figured that Conrad was
more comfortable in this shape when he enjoyed some privacy. It was
nonetheless unsettling. No one could have mistaken Conrad for being human
with that appearance.

"What does it feel like?", asked Jules.

"What do you mean? When I change?"

Jules nodded.

"Like one hell of a good, satisfying stretch. It's pretty much like that
even when I go all the way to the bestial form. First time is horrible
though. It hurts like nothing you've ever felt."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's kind of like your body needs to break itself in, in an
excruciatingly painful way."

Conrad put out his cigarette on the dusty floor of the derelict warehouse,
squishing the butt under the sole of his sneaker.

"You ask a lot of questions, you know?", said the Wolf.

Jules had an embarrassed laugh.

"It's not everyday you get to have a honest chat with a werewolf", he said.

The young Haitian shook his head. He went on.

"I can't believe I'm here with you. Does that happen often? Wolves and
humans, actually talking like that?"

"More often than you'd think. In a sense, that's what's amazing about you
guys -- you'll try anything. Not most individuals, mind you. But take any
big group, and there's always someone to push the limit, to be brave enough
to go where everyone else fears to thread."

"I don't feel brave", said Jules. "I feel really dumb."

The Wolf laughed. There was nothing mean-spirited about his laughter, but
it belied a hint of sadness. Jules took notice.

"It's too early to say if you are dumb or brave", said the werewolf
boy. "Wait until you see if you live to brag about this."

"Don't joke about that."

"It's not a joke. You like your boys dangerous -- let me tell you
that. Does that turn you on? The danger?"

Jules looked away.

"Shut up", he said.

Conrad shook his head.

"Stupid ape. Come here. I'm going to show you something."

The Wolf began to undress. He didn't strip in a way that was intended to be
sexy or seductive; he was simply removing his clothes matter-of-factly. He
dropped his coat to the floor and pulled off his shirt, exposing his bare
chest. Jules' breath fluttered in his chest as he beheld the bare
skin. Conrad was much more muscular when he transformed halfway like this,
with a brownish fuzz covering his chest. The werewolf boy ditched his
sneakers and his socks, then unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down. He
revealed a soft cock and a dusky pubic bush -- Conrad did not seem very
fond of underwear. Jules could not help but enjoy the sight of the naked
young male, despite his disturbing feral features and predatory brown
eyes. The Haitian took a few steps forward.

"I actually kinda like these clothes", said Conrad. "I would rather not rip
them apart when I transform."

The words startled Jules, and he took a step back.

"You're going to change? All the way?"

"Yep. And I want you to come right next to me, and feel me up."

Jules took a deep breath. There was something thrilling about the
notion. It was frightening, yet it was like being allowed to touch a lion
or a tiger, like reaching out to cross a forbidden line, to allow his hand
into a no man's land where it should get eaten. But instead, he would get
away with it. He would stroke the beast.

"Okay. I will. I'll touch you."

Conrad walked towards Jules.

"It's not a request, you little Wolf-fucking whore. We I speak, you obey."

The last words had been more of a snarl than an actual sentence. Something
hard had crept into Conrad's eyes. His presence had become overbearing. A
shade of fear seeped into Jules' heart, and yet... his cock was
hardening. He swallowed.

"Oh God..."

Then it happened. Conrad changed. It took no more than a couple of
seconds. There was a sound of something stretching, of bones snapping. A
dark fur covered his body, and he grew, and grew... He had become a hulking
shape now, towering over Jules. The enormous wolf face was staring him
down. It was the same intense, expressionless brown eyes that Conrad had in
his previous shape. His jaw had become elongated, bordered with long,
vicious-looking teeth -- each a knife ready to rend flesh.

Jules fought off an urge to stumble backwards even more; Conrad would not
like that. He willed himself to take a step toward the werewolf. The
monster stood there. Its breath was a heavy, panting sound. It was so close
-- if it ever chose to swipe one of its vast, clawed hands at the Haitian
boy, there was no way Jules would get out of the way in time.

"Can you speak?", asked Jules in a hushed voice. "When you're like that?"

The Wolf replied nothing. It stared at the boy in silence. Jules reached
out with his hand, and allowed it to feel the thick coat of fur that
covered the large pectorals. The texture surprised him: he had expected it
to be coarse, but it felt smooth to the touch. Making out the exact color
of the hair was difficult in the near darkness. A lot of it looked black,
but many areas were paler, maybe a mix of browns. The muscles under the
chest were firm, but rolled under Jules' inquisitive fingers. He realized
his own mouth was dry; he swallowed. He ran his hand slowly across the
torso, his fingertips sifting through the hair. He discovered a hard nipple
hidden in there. He rubbed it with his thumb. Conrad shifted his position
slightly, readjusting how he stood.

Jules dared a look between the Wolf's legs. It was a more or less human
cock there, not a sheathed penis like that of a wolf or a dog. Its skin had
a grayish tone, and it hung over Conrad's heavy ballsac. It was not erect,
but the Haitian boy could tell arousal had given it a subtle swell. The
dick did not look larger now than it had at the other times that he had
seen -- or felt -- it. Jules' own erection was now straining against
the leg of his tight jeans. The werewolf's sheer presence swallowed him
whole. There no longer was a world around them. Only the mighty beast
remained -- and the blend of sexual lust and hushed fear that gripped and
tugged at Jules' insides. Although he was feeling up a murderous monster,
the human teenager glowed with excited awe, basking in the presence of such
a powerful being. Maybe Conrad was just using him; maybe the pheromones had
taken over his brain; maybe he was nothing more than a thrall who would be
slaughtered
 and discarded once he had provided the predator with some
satisfaction. Yet right now, Jules wanted nothing more than to drown in
this ocean of forbidden desires. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to
be an animal in heat.

Conrad put both of his hands on Jules' shoulders; each were easily the size
of the boy's head. He forced him down to his knees, his face level with the
masculine member. The Haitian did not resist, although an anxious taste
rose to his mouth. His sexual experience had never involved sucking cock --
although it had been done to him -- and he was about to perform this act
on a creature that was not even human. He moved his face forward and
inhaled the musky scent of the predator. Jules realized he was salivating
now. He kissed the semi-hard cock with a generous brush of his thick
lips. The sexual organ swelled a bit more at the touch. Jules reached with
his hand and seized the penis, holding the head in front of him. He slid
his mouth over the tool. He was unsure how to perform, but he decided to
use the inside of his mouth and his tongue to stroke the hardening dick, as
if his mouth was some sort of pussy. Conrad quickly grew to his full
size. He put
 one of his paws against the back of Jules' head and guided him into a
steady yet unhurried rhythm. A sense of satisfaction eased itself into the
boy. The flavor and the aroma of the Wolf, along with the regular pace of
the blowjob, lulled him into a quiet trance. He stroked the soft balls as
he kept sucking. It was quite easy to go on Conrad; his member was thin
enough not to really hurt his jaw, and the heavy precum was delicious
evidence of his arousal.

After a few minutes of this, Conrad changed back to the more human-like
feral form, without stopping the tempo of how he was fucking Jules' mouth.

"You've got talent, Wolf-sucker", he said in a deep voice. "Black boys do
have the best cocksucking lips."

Jules nodded, even though the comment sounded a bit racist. He actually
felt a tinge of pride with his ability to please the Wolf. Conrad held his
lover's chin now, and he fucked his mouth in gracious and virile thrusts of
his hips. Suddenly, he stopped, and pulled his dick from between Jules'
lips.

"Okay, enough of that for now", he said. "Stand up, Wolf-fucker."

Jules stood up. His erection was still trapped in his pants and begged for
release.

"What do you want to--"

Conrad grabbed Jules' shirt and brusquely yanked the Haitian to his face.

"Shut up, Wolf-fucker. I didn't say you could speak."

Jules felt the warm breath of the Wolf against his nose. He smelled of
cigarettes, of a blend of spicy boy smells and of animal musk. Jules longed
for none other than to submit to him and please him. He should have been
terrified, but right now, the fright merely stoked his own simmering
desire. Conrad let go of his shirt.

"Strip. Get naked. I want to look at you. You're an animal. Animals
shouldn't wear clothes."

Jules nodded in silence and complied with Conrad's command. He took off his
jacket and dropped it on the dusty floor. He untied his shoes and kicked
off his sneakers. He pulled out his white socks one after the other.

"Don't you have any fucking fashion sense?", asked the Wolf. "You shouldn't
wear white socks with black jeans. Next time I see you, I want you to wear
black socks."

"Okay."

"Not 'okay'. Right now, I'm your master. You breathe and you live because I
consent to it. So say 'yes, Master'."

Jules swallowed.

"Yes, Master."

Conrad beamed with smug satisfaction. The Haitian boy glanced down at his
own body and resumed his stripping. He unbuttoned his shirt. As he did so,
he stared intently at the Wolf. He realized that he was trying to appear
sexy for the beast. He took off the garment, revealing the chocolate skin
of his bare chest. The crisp October air started leeching at once the
warmth from his body.

"Your nipples are very hard", said Conrad. "I like that. Take off the
rest. I want to see what makes you a man."

"Yes, Master", whispered Jules.

The black teenager's hard-on formed a prominent bulge along his left thigh;
it struggled to be freed. Jules snapped off the button of his jeans,
lowered them, and stepped out of denim pants. He stood there with only his
underwear remaining. He wore tight, charcoal boxer briefs. His erection was
long enough that his obsidian dickhead peeked out of the underwear. Jules
noticed Conrad licking his lips. The Haitian slipped his thumbs under the
elastic band of his boxers, and he slowly pulled them down, revealing his
hard member inch by inch. It eventually sprang up, hitting his flat stomach
and smearing it with a dab of precum. He had never been so hard in his
entire life. He shivered from the cold, but he didn't care. The Wolf was
devouring him with his gaze alone; Jules had never felt so lusted after in
his entire life. He thought briefly of his father's sick need. This was
different. A deep urge in his loins welcomed this desire. He wanted to be
consumed
 by it.

"Are you doing it?", asked the Haitian. "The pheromones?"

"A little. It happens on its own, when I want to mate; it's an
instinct. But most of what you are feeling is yours."

Conrad chuckled. He continued.

"I guess this means you REALLY are a little Wolf-fucker."

"Yes, Master", replied the human boy meekly. "I guess I am."

Jules hadn't said it out of any sense of obligation. He realized the words
aroused the Wolf, and he wanted to please the predator. He stood there,
ready for the beast. Conrad took a step towards him. He reached out and
took a hold of Jules' ballsac; his fingers were cold, chilled by the brisk
autumn air. He fondled the boy's heavy nuts. Jules' cock twitched. Conrad
stood inches away from his face. The Haitian gazed into the placid, dark
pools that were the Wolf's eyes. They betrayed little emotion, but always
gave off the impression of examining earnestly whatever subject on which
they were set. Right now, their complete focus was on the human
teenager. The hand squeezed Jules' testicles a tad too hard, but not quite
enough to hurt. It then moved up to grab a hold of his shaft. It started
stroking him, a slow, unhurried rub that sent a sigh of sexual relief to
Jules' lips.

"I want you to feed me your big, black cock", said the Wolf -- his voice
was a husky hum. "I want to taste everything that makes you a man. I want
to eat every inch of you."

Jules swallowed, but his mouth was dry. He answered nothing. The Wolf knelt
in front of him, and he kissed the Haitian's pouch, sucking the tender
flesh between his lips and swallowing one of the balls. The beast let out a
low growl. Teeth nipped at the skin of Jules' scrotum. The boy inhaled
sharply.

"It's the most tender part when you eat a boy", said the Wolf. "That and
his dick. It bleeds a lot when you rip it out, if he's still alive when you
do it."

"Please, don't joke about that."

Suddenly, the Wolf snarled and moved his a couple of inches up; sharp
canines pressed hard against Jule's shaft, nearly puncturing the skin. The
boy yelped, more in fright and surprise than in actual pain, although the
fangs had sunk in a bit.

"You didn't say 'Master'", snarled Conrad.

"I'm sorry, Master!", cried out the boy. "I'm really sorry!"

Conrad kissed where he had bitten.

"You'd better be careful. So far, I'd much, much rather taste your cock
than tear it off and eat it. But Wolves are a fickle bunch."

He pulled back Jules' foreskin, and he gave the wide dickhead a voluptuous
suck. He took hold of the Haitian's two hands, and he set them on his own
head; the three-day old shave on both sides of Conrad's mohawk was smooth
yet crisp under Jules' fingertips.

"Use my mouth. Fuck it. Keep me busy with that beautiful tool of yours. I
get bored easily. I get hungry when I'm bored."

"I'll... I'll try, Master."

"Do, or do not. There is no try."

Despite his uneasy fear, Jules chuckled unintentionally at the
reference. He tensed up immediately, bracing for another bite. Conrad
grinned instead.

"Thank God, you can get inside jokes from the original trilogy. Most people
at school know only the stupid new--"

"There is only one trilogy, Master."

The Wolf gave his cock a tender peck.

"That's for your wit."

He then squeezed Jules' left testicle hard.

"Ffff--!"

The Haitian winced, but stopped himself from swearing.

"That's for cutting me off."

Jules glared at the Wolf. The Haitian had more of a temper than many
suspected, and little patience for people who hurt him. He fought hard to
hold a string of insults -- he didn't know how serious the werewolf was
with his threats. Conrad noticed, and smiled.

"Don't get mad, human boy", he said. "Get even. Make me choke on that
dick. Teach your Master a lesson."

Jules hesitated a moment. Conrad moved forward, opened his mouth, and slid
the thick shaft between his lips. He grabbed Jules' ass cheeks, and nudged
him into a thrusting motion. The Haitian started rocking his hips back and
forth. The Wolf made muffled, happy sounds. For Jules, the feeling
was... pleasant -- very pleasant. This was different than with his
father. With his Dad, he would just lie there, very still, while the man
did the thing. He always hated himself for the pleasure he felt. He never
tried to last long -- the quicker he came, the sooner Etienne Rodrigue
left him alone. But this? It was different. It was scary, but
thrilling. Moving his hips, thrusting like that, it was different too. His
body liked the thrusting part. He decided he liked it too.

The Wolf squeezed Jules' ass very hard, digging his nails in the flesh. He
yanked the Haitian towards him, forcing the boy to fuck a few inches deeper
-- his lips made it all the way the the base of Jules' shaft, surrounding
the entire length with mammalian warmth. The young human expected Conrad to
gag or retch, but the werewolf made him fuck deeper and harder, without
pause. His cock had never been taken like that. He enjoyed it. Conrad
didn't have to encourage him any further. He fucked the predator's mouth,
keeping the punk's shaved head firmly in place for his tool. He no longer
worried about going too deep. It was becoming a game of how much the Wolf
could take without even flinching. Conrad's noises were hungry,
animalistic; his eyes never left Jules' face, taking in the entire
spectacle of the young man's sexual display.

The Haitian boy didn't know how much the Wolf had guessed about his past,
abusive sexual experiences -- the predatory creature had an uncanny
perspicacity. But for a moment, Jules loved Conrad for letting him enjoy a
blowjob that was nothing like what his father so often took from him. He
was drunk, he was in heat like he had never been before, and he was fucking
-- hell, he was fucking a werewolf. Not even the memory of his father
could hurt him right now. It was a terrifying joyride, but Jules had never
felt so free as this very moment.

The ebony-skinned teenager was panting heavily. An explosion was building
up inside his dick. He was about to come.

Conrad let him go suddenly, denying him his release. The Wolf licked his
lips again.

"I don't want you to come yet. I want to fuck that tight ass of yours. I
want to make you into my bitch, and I want you to love every second of it."

The Haitian boy said nothing, apprehensive. His hole was something he had
always managed to protect from his father. No one had ever used him like
this before, and now he was about to surrender this to a cannibalistic
monster.

Jules turned around and lowered himself on all fours, exposing his behind
to the Wolf. The ground was filthy. Bits of gravel dug into the palms of
his hands. He shivered as the cold licked his bare body.

"Please don't hurt me, Master", he whispered.

The Wolf took a hold of his round globes and kneaded them. An erotic shimmy
coursed from the Haitian boy's ass, fluttering up his spine; his body
seemed wired to enjoy the palpations, despite how frightened he was. The
Wolf spread him apart, exposing his opening.

"Have you ever done the bitch for someone before?"

Jules shook his head. A moment later, a moist, callused thumb rubbed his
hole. He shuddered.

"I'll start gently", said the punk. "But in exchange, you have to let me
use you for as long as I want -- in all three of my shapes."

Jules had known it would happen, ever since Conrad had let him know at the
bar that he wanted to fuck him. He had even pictured the possibility
before: the enormous beast grabbing a hold of him, taking him, ravaging him
like a cheap doll. He had willingly used his mouth to please the monster
before, but what would it be like to have it... breed with him? The Haitian
boy remained unsure as to how much of the more human-like Conrad was left
when he turned into the killing form. Would the savage predator even pause
to consider his well-being? Did Conrad even care at all?

A tongue touched his hole. Jules gasped. It licked him clean --
titillating, probing, relaxing him.

"Remember, human boy", said the Wolf. "The more you make me want to do it
again with you, the more I have an incentive to let you live when we're
done. I expect to be pleased in every way that you can offer."

Conrad spat on Jules' hole. He rubbed the saliva with his thumb, and he
pushed the wet digit inside him. The human boy winced. It was
uncomfortable, the foreign thing invading him, rough and a bit raw. The
thumb pulled out. Jules heard the punk boy spit again, and the slick finger
entered him again, sliding better this time. Conrad stroked his bum with
his other hand. The thumb was exploring his intimate cavity; the
dark-skinned youth had never been touched like that. It pushed on a spot
inside him, rubbing it with a gentleness that was uncanny for the Wolf. He
was barely pushing, yet it drew a gasp from the teenager; Jules was still
unsure whether he enjoyed this or not.

"Milk your dick", ordered the Wolf. "It will make you like it."

"Yes, Master."

Jules had spoken in a hushed voice. He took hold of his thing. He hadn't
known he could get so hard. He squeezed with his hand with the slow motion
he always used to pleasure himself. Conrad's thumb was fucking him now,
moving in and out of his orifice. The Haitian's dickhead was oozing
pre-cum. The thumb blessed the sweet spot inside him with patient
ministrations. An amazing vibration of sexual delight ran through his
member. The previous blowjob had been a pleasant sheath of warmth around
Jules' tool. This was different. His cock was throbbing, as if Conrad was
shoving inside it the urge to spray its seed all over the place. It was
brimming with sexual urgency, although the orgasm was still a long way
ahead.

"There are worse ways of spending your time, aren't there?", asked the
Wolf.

Jules nodded in silence.

"I'm sure this is better than getting beaten up by idiots", added Conrad.

The horrifying incident had happened barely more than 24 hours ago, yet
ages had passed. Jules' cheek didn't bother him anymore. He thought of the
werewolf slaughtering those boys. He remembered the taste of their
blood. He should feel shame. Instead, he was giving himself to the beast,
and it fed him with those forbidden thrills. He heard Conrad spit again,
but no saliva touched him. Was a lubricating his cock? Was he getting ready
to take him?

"Shouldn't we use a condom? Master?"

Conrad chuckled.

"Silly human. I can shrug off bullets. Do you really think I'm afraid of
your little viruses?"

"What about me, Master?"

"I'd worry more about your short-term wellbeing, if I were you."

Jules tried not to think of any potential consequences to this dangerous
adventure, and he found that the sex made it easy to blind himself to the
risks. Conrad pulled out his thumb. He readjusted his position behind the
Haitian boy. A wet dickhead pushed against Jules' hole.

"I'll be tender", said the Wolf. "Take deep breaths. Don't you worry, my
bitches always end up begging for more."

Conrad petted the human's bum in a way that was nearly affectionate. Jules
drew in a large gulp of air. The cock entered him. It went in smoother than
he had expected, although the presence was uncomfortable. Only the head had
ventured inside so far. The Wolf stood still, kneading the boy's butt
cheek. He slowly pushed a bit further. Jules winced -- it was not quite
painful, but it was a bit rough, raw flesh expanding him. The nonchalant
punk retreated slightly and spat again on his dick. He pushed in again, at
a crawling pace -- it was easier. The young Haitian had a difficult time
thinking about anything else than the cock invading him. Conrad didn't have
a very large dick, but it nonetheless stretched the Haitian in ways that
were overwhelming. The Wolf's hipbone came to a rest against the
black-skinned ass.

"I'm all the way in, human boy. See? That wasn't so bad."

He petted the side of Jules' buttock.

"You have the nicest piece of ass I've ever plowed, you know."

"I... I guess I do, Master."

Conrad chuckled softly.

"Don't get cocky. I'm gonna fuck you now."

The Wolf began his thrusts. It was a calm, rocking motion. Somehow, the
thought of waves washing ashore came to Jules' mind. The predator's careful
attentions were not unpleasant. He was steadily building a pace, growing
more vigorous in the way he fucked the Haitian. After a few minutes of this
treatment, Jules was covered in sweat -- it made his skin cool in the
October air, but he was not shivering at all from the cold. He was flushed,
and he was panting. The thrusts were sometimes hard, sometimes tinged with
malicious tenderness. When the dick buried itself all the way inside him,
Jules sometimes winced, unsure if he was experiencing pain or
overstimulation, unsure of whether he wanted the werewolf to stop or to
continue. But whenever Conrad's manhood retreated, whenever his cavity
became once again nearly empty, Jules realized he longed for it to be
filled again. He had gone half soft through the whole thing, somehow. He
remembered how nice his own
 tool had felt when he had jerked off while the thumb had been inside
him. He reached under himself and took hold of his own cock. His squeezes
sent wonderful tingles through his loins.

"You're not being noisy enough, human boy", said Conrad. "I like my bitches
noisy."

The young werewolf began a ferocious series of thrusts, his hipbone
slapping hard against Jules ass. Self-consciousness made it difficult for
the dark-skinned boy to let himself go fully, but he didn't quite dare
disappoint the Wolf. He began to emit audible gasps and moans whenever the
erect cock plunged back inside him. It encouraged the creature, who made
each lunge an even more deliberate attempt at coaxing a reaction from the
Haitian boy.

Jules was a mess. His dick had grown back to its full size and was a
throbbing rod of arousal; his hand and his head were slick with precum. His
ass was the werewolf's plaything; Jules no longer had a conscious mind
linking each thrust with the yelps of pleasure that jumped from his
mouth. Conrad's hands kept a firm grip on Jules' hips, drawing the boy's
behind towards him whenever he impaled the whimpering human.

Conrad bent forward and reached up across Jules torso; he drew him back to
a position where both teenagers were now standing up on their knees. The
young punk took a break from his fucking motions. He held human's back
against his own chest, and sharp teeth nipped at the Haitian's neck It was
a playful bite that held no intention of truly hurting. The Wolf petted the
boy's short, frizzy hair. The dark-skinned youth let the predator handle
him as it liked. Conrad took hold of Jules' chin and made him turn his face
towards his own; he had returned to his human form. Their faces were inches
away from each other. The vast warehouse was bathed in shadows, but
Conrad's pupils reflected moonlight that filtered from the windows. His
slender dick was deeply engaged inside the Haitian, claiming the young
human as his. Jules hesitated a moment, then he dared a kiss. The Wolf
kissed him back, with a surprising tenderness at first; then he caught
Jules lower lip
 between his teeth and held it there. Neither boy had closed his eyes; they
held each other's gaze. Conrad finally let go of Jules' lip.

"Are you... are you done?", asked Jules. "Master?"

"Are you nuts? We're just getting started. We haven't done the real thing
yet."

Jules swallowed. Conrad stroked the Haitian's cheek, the one that had taken
the punch.

"I'll make you my bitch in every possible way. I'm gonna fuck you like an
animal."

"Conrad? When you--"

"You forgot something."

Jules realized at once he hadn't called the Wolf "Master". The black boy
winced, expecting instant retribution. Conrad lowered his hands towards the
young human's crotch. He took hold of the ballsac and began fondling it
slowly.

"I'm sorry, Master", whispered Jules.

"It's okay. I'm in a forgiving mood right now. A warm hole around my dick
tends to help for that. Ask your question."

Jules lowered his gaze.

"When you... transform all the way, what does it do to you? I mean, not
your body, but your mind? I know you don't just become a rampaging killer."

Conrad let go of the ebony-skinned balls, and wrapped his finger around the
generous, black shaft. He started masturbating it with slow strokes.

"I'm still the same person when I change. It's just that... I can't ignore
that I'm an animal anymore. Everything about me that's an instinct is
uber-present. It's hard to explain. The instincts don't take control of me,
but they're impossible to dismiss."

He brushed his lips against the brown skin of Jules' nape.

"I'm going to change and mate with you", he whispered. "And for me, it will
be the most amazing thing ever because I'll be BREEDING."

"And what about me? Master?"

"You'll know soon enough."

It happened then. Jules heard the sounds of flesh stretching, of bones
cracking. He tensed up. The arms surrounding him became two massive logs
covered with heavy fur. An enormous, hairy hand laid on top of his entire
crotch; a couple of sharp claws were pressed against his soft skin. The
beast lifted him up as it changed; the arm wrapped around Jules' torso
alone was more than enough to keep him off the ground. The toes of Jules'
feet barely brushed against the dirty floor. The monster held him
upright. It began thrusting -- hard. The paw -- could Jules call it a
paw? -- holding up his groin guided him, ensured that the young Haitian
remained properly transfixed on the Wolf's cock. It did not feel bigger,
but it throbbed; it was alive. Jules bit his lip, and the werewolf's latest
shove caused the boy's front tooth to sink in. He tasted blood -- salty,
metallic. He was frightened, more then he thought he'd become. He realized
the animal would not
 stop, no matter what he said. It was breeding, and he was the bitch.

Jules made himself moan; it would please his Master. He was better
afterwards. He moaned again. The beast nearly pulled out entirely, before
ramming its entire tool back in. Jules swore. He never swore, but he had to
deal with this somehow. The rod plunged inside him again, and again. Jules'
back was pressed against the thick fur that covered Conrad's chest. It was
warm. His own dick pulsated inside the Wolf's "hand". It happened each time
the thing that fucked him hit that sensitive spot inside him. He yelped. He
gazed up, and he saw the monster's gigantic face staring back at him. Its
maw hung open in skin a wicked, toothy grin. The wide eyes shone in the
moonlight; they showed no trace of any human emotion. The werewolf thrust
again. Jules gasped, drawing in the cold air of the night.

It lasted a long time. A cool sheen of sweat covered Jules' body. The Wolf
never put him back down to the ground. It held him as if the human boy was
made of feathers. Jules basked in the beast's might, in the muscles
rippling against his own dark skin. He was in awe at the sheer power of the
werewolf, at the primal intensity of their breeding. He had been fucked
into a sensory trance, where the only things that mattered were the beast,
the cock plundering his insides, and the animal feelings that made him do
those sounds. He was Conrad's bitch. Jules was unsure of whether he truly
loved the feelings the predator was inflicting upon him -- each thrust
pushed him far over the threshold of sensation with which his meek, subdued
self was comfortable. But he was alive in a way that he had never been. The
Wolf had fucked into him an awareness of his own organic self he didn't
know he could experience. It was not like the shame and the disgust which
clung to
 Jules like foul tar whenever his father did the things to him. It like was
standing naked in a storm -- the winds, the rain,and the roar of thunder
claiming him.

Jules screamed when he came. He could not keep it inside him. His teenage
voice broke as he did, releasing a shrill sound into the night. His seed
spilled against the soft fur of Conrad's paw as a cataclysm of an orgasm
ripped through him,surging from his loins and shooting all the way up to
what was left of his brain. His hole quivered and clamped down on the thin
shaft that was sodomizing him. The Wolf pushed its dick all the way in and
pressed the young human's body against its own. Powerful muscles surrounded
Jules and constricted around him. He thought for a moment he would be
crushed -- he struggled to breathe, but the werewolf maintained just
enough restraint not to injure him.  The beast's cock quaked inside the
Haitian's boy-cunt; Jules shook from each tremor and spasm. He knew the
monster -- his monster -- was orgasming inside him. He had made his
monster come. The dark boy took deep breaths, panting, shuddering whenever
the erection
 throbbed from within his body. There seemed to be no end to the predator's
climax -- Jule's own orgasm had receded. He lingered there, having not
yet returned to a rational state of mind. He was a presence experiencing
the Wolf's pleasure, complicit in it.

It lasted over a minute. The Wolf then pulled out, but did not release
Jules from its powerful embrace. Something cool and sticky ran down the
Haitian's buttock -- werewolf seed. The human boy let himself go limp in
Conrad's animal arms. He took slow, deep breaths. A giddy euphoria was
spreading inside his body. A giggle escaped his lips.

"Oh God...", he whispered.

The titanic beast laid him down on the dirty ground, and then it laid right
next to him. The strong limbs still surrounded him, cradling him. It was
cold inside the empty warehouse, but Conrad's fur provided him with a
pleasant warmth. Jules cuddled against the Wolf's body. He closed his eyes
for a short rest. The large chest that was pressed against his back heaved
slowly with each breath the werewolf took. Jules--

* * *

Had he dozed off?

It was some unnamed time in the middle of the night. Silence hung in the
abandoned building. A beam of moonlight shone through the broken pane of a
window; motes of dust danced inside it, spiraling in the musty
atmosphere. Conrad was still the beast, its left arm slung across Jules'
bare chest, holding on tight. The werewolf was immobile, with the exception
of the regular rise and fall of its chest drawing in and exhaling air.

How long had Jules been asleep? Should he be home by now?

Did it matter?

The young Haitian's temples throbbed with a dull ache. His bladder begged
for relief. His cock stood stiff from the need to urinate. Strangely
enough, his hole was in a decent enough shape however - it seemed tender,
well exercised, but not sore.

He attempted to set himself free from the werewolf's embrace without waking
the beast. Instead, the Wolf let out an annoyed snarl and held him firmly
in place.

"Conrad. Master", he said in a hushed tone -- he had remembered at the
last second how to predator expected to be addressed. "I... I need to go
pee."

The creature growled again. It refused to budge at first, but after a long
pause, it lifted its arm, allowing the human boy to leave its side. Jules
stood up. His arm was stiff; apparently, sleeping naked on the ground of an
abandoned warehouse next to a werewolf was not the most comfortable
experience. He looked down at Conrad's transformed body. He appeared to be
slumbering. Like this, he did not seem so frightening to Jules. He did not
look so much like a monster than an improbable animal, a powerful predator
resting before prowling for its next prey. An aura of dangerous elegance
emanated from the Wolf. To Jules, he was...

Beautiful. 'Beautiful' was the word emerged from the recesses of his mind.

The young Haitian shivered. He rubbed his shoulders. Puffs of condensation
left his mouth whenever he breathed. It was freezing. There had been plenty
of heat next to the Wolf, but now he was a naked human standing in the
cold.

He hurried to a corner of the broad,empty room to take care of his
business. It was strange, taking a leak on the floor of a building, but it
was far from being the crudest thing he had done that night. The chill had
taken care of his erection -- he had little trouble emptying his
bladder. The boiling stream of urine warmed his cock as he pissed. Jules
allowed himself a soft groan of contentment. He shook his dick, and turned
around.

Conrad -- the enormous, hulking beast -- was standing meters away from
him. He studied Jules with his attentive eyes. The Wolf's cock was standing
very erect. The predator took a few steps towards the young human. Despite
its tremendous mass, it moved in near-silence. Jules swallowed. He was
never certain what to expect from the werewolf. The Haitian stood
immobile. The creature raised a hand, and ran down a claw across the boy's
dark chest, slowly. It was a razor, but it did not draw blood. Jules held
his breath. Conrad teased his bellybutton -- an outie -- with the
rake. He then stepped next to Jules, pushed down his Wolf cock, and forced
out a powerful stream of piss where the human himself had urinated.

Jules took a few step backs, taking in the grand view of the beast. It was
still eerie, having the predator so close and simply sharing his
presence. The Wolf finished relieving itself, and faced Jules. Its malehood
was still hard, engorged with warm blood.

The young human turned around in a very deliberate fashion, facing the
wall. He leaned forward and pressed his hand against to cold, rough
brick. He presented his behind to the beast. He wanted more of what the
Wolf had given him before. His cheeks -- the ones from his face --
flushed with self-consciousness. The creature had requested none of this;
the Haitian was offering himself, inviting the werewolf to breed with him
once again, to bury itself into the heat of his opening.

He heard soft steps behind him. Vast, furry hands took hold of his two
ebony globes and spread them apart. The claws were pushing against his
flesh, at the limit of where the skin would probably break. Something cool
and moist buried itself between the mounds, sniffing him out. A warm tongue
started lapping at his hole. Jules gasped, and his sphincter quivered with
pleasure. The Wolf ate him out with more insistence. There was hunger in
the way it tasted the Haitian boy. Jules heard muffled growls buried in his
ass. Then the tongue forced itself through his opening. The young human
groaned, opening himself up to the invasion. The tongue was fucking him,
lubricating his hole with saliva.

Moments later, the muzzle left the cleft of his ass, and the beast mounted
him. The werewolf nearly climbed on top of him, its head looming right atop
of Jules own skull. The clawed hand took hold of his torso. The slippery
head of the Wolf's dick slid between the boy's ass cheeks and entered him
again. The young human shuddered with sexual satisfaction, despite the dull
pain that occurred as his sphincter stretched once more under the pressure
from the throbbing erection. Jules released a purposeful moan to let his
mate know that he was surrendering himself completely to the breeding.

It was different from the first time. The Wolf moved slowly within his
opening, taking its time to enjoy Jules' insides and the tightness of the
ring that surrounded its malehood. It made sure that it always pushed
deeply against the young Haitian's sweet spot whenever it thrust back in,
drawing wails of pleasure from the human boy whenever he did -- it played
him like a sensual musician made his instrument yield to his inspirations.

The animal took hold of Jules' hand, and it made him milk his black, erect
thickness. The teenager shuddered. The pace of the deliberate thrusting
matched the unhurried rhythm which he preferred to extract the boyish
satisfaction all males could enjoy from their loins. Despite longing for a
second breeding with the Wolf, he had feared it would be more than his body
could take. Yet the beast seemed aware of this, and while its penetration
was inexorable, the creature took care to enslave the boy with a rugged
pleasure rather that alienate him with unwanted pain.

The werewolf tightened its grip and curled its claws. Jules gasped. The
sharp needles had punctured the skin from his chest, although they had
entered his body by no more than a couple of millimeters. He froze into
place, not daring to move, dreading the claws would sink deeper. Conrad
fucked him with the same relentless pace. The black boy cried out whenever
the Wolf moved, but he realized he could take the pain. His dick pulsed in
his hand. He kept squeezing and squeezing.

The Wolf's maw surrounded the black teenager's right shoulder. Teeth
pressed on his ebony flesh. The animal emitted a muffled snarl. Jules
came. He saw the first spurt of his semen splash the brick wall against
which his hands were pressed. The avid cock inside him became alive -- he
had given the werewolf another orgasm.

The jaw tightened around Jules' shoulder, and the fangs sank deep within
his flesh. Each tooth was a steel nail that sent a bitter shock of physical
pain to the human's brain. The canines reached his muscles -- the young
Haitian could tell. He screamed, and there was only agony in the scream.

Jules didn't remember with precision what he said. He begged. He implored
the Wolf to stop. The teeth remained firmly planted in his flesh. Both of
their dicks were still shaken with spasms. The boy's orgasm eventually came
to an end, but the Wolf was still buried inside him in all possible ways:
the claws almost reaching his pectoral muscles; the Wolf penis still
ejaculating deep inside his hole; and the fangs, those horrible,
excruciating tools of murder, digging inside his fragile body.

A sob shook Jules. Seconds later, the jaws released him. Icy-hot throbs of
pain radiated from his shoulder. He could tell the wound was bleeding:
something warm and liquid, with more body than water, was running along his
torso and his back. The Wolf released the grip from its claws. A faint gasp
left Jules' lips. The softening cock pulled out of him, leaving his hole
empty. Jules' hand was sticky with his own cooling, abundant semen. He drew
in a deep breath. His shoulder was a pulsating ruin of flesh.

The Wolf picked him up. Jules huddled against the beast. He remembered
first aid from school, what they had explained about shock. He was
shivering uncontrollably. It was not from the blood loss, was it? He was
not bleeding to death, was he?

Was he?

It was just a cold night. It was just a cold night in the middle of
October. He was naked in an abandoned building. He had been bitten by a
werewolf. Shivering was normal, wasn't it?

The Wolf lowered the human boy to the ground and then came to rest besides
him. The monster's wet tongue began lapping at the blood that trickled on
the young Haitian's back, licking the wound. The shoulder was numb now. The
tongue didn't really hurt -- just a bit. Jules curled up against the
soft, warm fur.

Conrad lapped for a long while, and eventually, he stopped. He became
almost immobile again, as he had been when he had been sleeping earlier. He
had not turned back to anything closer to a human being -- he was still
the terrifying creature.

Jules remained very still, his eyes wide open. He could not fall sleep. He
could think of nothing else but the throbbing werewolf bite lacerating his
shoulder.

TO BE CONTINUED.