Date: Fri, 27 Oct 2023 17:41:28 -0400
From: mr.evan.andrews@gmail.com
Subject: Wolf Station chapter 10 -- science fiction or fantasy

Wolf Station
Chapter 10: Life on Wolf Station
By Evan Andrews ©2023


This is a fan fiction.

"Wolf Station" is part of a larger cycle of stories related to my Hunters
and Hunted series.

As always, I had some faces in mind as I wrote these stories. Wulf is based
on rugby player David Williams, Grey on Hugh Jackman, the Bunyip on Tom
Jennings (Slake from Beyond Thunderdome), and Steve-o on Bill Mumy (from
his Dating Game appearance—google it). The additional Brothers are based
on actor Travis Frimmel, AFL players Callum Ward and Harry Himmelberg. This
story should not be considered a true representation of the sexuality of
either the actors or the characters they play.

I apologize for all the Australianisms I'm about to get wrong; please
assume that no insult was meant.

The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If this
offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you
are please stop reading now. Thank you.

If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to
keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


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The Brothers of Wolf Station, and their bitches, didn't get home until well
after moonrise. Wulf's ability to see using nothing more than starlight was
the only thing that let them get in even that early.

Still he stopped the rover at Grey's gate and announced, "Boys, it looks
like we've got company."

Another rover and a motorcycle sat under the trees, and the lights of the
main house were on. From the scents carried on the midnight breezes, they
could tell (even the bitches) that someone had even tried cooking a meal--
emphasis on the try.

Quietly, with the Brothers in the lead, the approached the station on foot
and peered in through the windows. Three more Brothers had made themselves
at home in the main room, casting off their travel clothes in favor of easy
to get out of duds. The two older, Callum and Harry ran with the pack in
their old hometown where they hunted as a pair. Wearing nothing more than
rugby shorts, it looked like Callum was the one who'd burnt water. Travis,
the third and obviously youngest, looked pure monkey because of what he was
wearing. Monkey fashion had left its mark on this Brother, and he had his
junk stuffed (barely) into a pair of designer briefs, the pouch of which
bulged obscenely.

"Make yourselves at home," Wulf said as his pack barged into their den.

The guests looked surprised for a moment, then pissed off (but only for a
second), and finally happy. The Brothers came together and greeted one
another after their style, sniffing and rubbing faces against one
another. Travis offered his hand instead, which Wulf and Grey shook. The
Bunyip, when Travis offered him his hand, shot Wulf and Grey a glance and
said, "Ook!" before grabbing the young Brother's head and staring him
straight in the eye. There was only so far the pup would be pushed.

Travis held the Bunyip's gaze for only a couple of seconds before looking
away. Satisfied, the Bunyip touched his forehead to Travis', and, pack
order reinforced, the six Brothers, and three bitches, rolled into the
kitchen.

Grey put things right and, with the help of several hands, had a stew
bubbling away in only a matter of minutes. Potatoes boiled in another pot,
and the bitches set the table.

"Nice place you've got going here," Callum said later as they served
themselves from the communal pot. "Harry and I heard about your place and
decided to come check it out."

"With old prune-face's permission or not?" Grey asked.

Callum and Harry were also known to be on their alpha's "keep an eye on
these two" list.

"Without," Harry laughed. "But he might not notice we're even gone..."

"Unless he wonders why suddenly nobody's questioning his every other
decision," Callum finished.

"And you, Travis?" Wulf said. "You're outside your pack's hunting grounds,
too. Why?"

"Pack politics," Travis said. "Sydney's in the middle of a dominance
battle, and I decided to take my pretty face somewhere less fraught."

"Battle?" Wulf said, concerned.

"Well, not like a monkey battle, though the Brothers are choosing
sides. It's complicated though," Travis said, "And it's not like it'll
involve you out here. I just wanted out of the whole mess. I figured I
could hang here and then go back when they've settled the whole top dog
question."

None of what Travis was telling him sounded good to Wulf. He knew that when
Brothers fought, they fought hard. So hard that they could easily blow
their cover. Happily, Grey was there to put a positive spin on things.

"Good to have you here then," he said. "I know Zach, the Sydney beta, and
he's a good guy in a pinch. If there's a way to settle things, he'll find
it. Until then, we can definitely use extra pairs of hands in getting the
rest of the station in order."

"Busman's holiday," Callum said, rolling his eyes.

"And," Grey continued, "As a bonus, we could definitely use help giving the
bitches experience beyond what the three of us can manage."

The American bitches sized up the new Brothers and smiled, liking what they
saw.

"Just remember," the Bunyip added, glaring at Travis, "They're bitches, not
lovers."

Travis' reputation for being a monkey-lover was a scandal among
traditionalists all over the country.

That settled, the Brothers washed the dishes, cleaned up, and bedded down
for the night, pairing off and taking a bitch of their choice. Wulf invited
Callum to share his bed--with Franklin of course--and though the lights
went out, precious little sleep was had that night—especially among the
bitches who had double the number of cocks to satisfy.

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In the morning, not a single face, bitch or Brother, was to be seen outside
the bedrooms until long hours after the sunrise.

As Grey foretold, many hands did make for light work, though. Over the next
few days, the salvageable buildings got facelifts (and some reconstructive
surgery) while the remainder of the station got demolished and its
materials sorted and stored. The demo rubbish would come in handy if and
when the Brothers got the urge to build a bonfire. At the end of the week,
Wulf (who appeared to have been accepted, even by himself, as the station
alpha) decided it was time celebrate with the father of all bonfires.

As always, the Brothers had been conscientious about pissing down the place
to keep vermin at bay, but they made it clear that the bitches were to have
nothing to do with shifting the timbers for the night's fire. Snakes and
spiders could easily kill the monkeys, and nobody wanted that. Besides, the
Brothers also had a better sense for how far away from the buildings a fire
wanted to be laid out.

The mound of salvaged wood took shape throughout the day, and after a huge
dinner (thanks in part to the Bunyip's preference for hunting as oppose to
building) they stepped outside. The tinder caught, and the kindling, and
before long a proud and mighty fire lit the night. The flames burned high
and bright and hot, and Wulf was interested to see how, in this primordial
scene, several of the Brothers crept close to the bitches as if seeking
comfort and protection—the opposite of what the traditionalists said was
the proper order of things. Later, though, after the fires burned down,
they all made their way back inside the den where the usual order
reasserted itself.

Wulf was also pleased at how the bitches took to their new lives.

"What're you grinning at, Yellow Dog Dingo?" Grey asked him one morning.

The two friends had stepped out onto the veranda with their coffee while
Steve-o, Franklin, and Isaac (not to mention their guests) got ready for
the day.

"Did you hear Franklin when the boys disappeared to their rooms? Wulf
asked.

"Not really," Grey said, "The coffee was singing to me."

"Our favorite monkeys were debating what to wear today. Franklin was
pushing for the nylon running shorts."

"He would," Grey said, "Especially given the way you devour him with your
eyes when his cock flops out the leg."

"Isaac was pushing for stubbies."

"Well, that makes sense since he keeps pressuring the Bunyip to take him
out hunting. Plus they look good when he wears his old boots too."

"And Steve-o..."

"No, I know that one," Grey laughed. "If he has to wear clothes, he wants
nothing more than an old jock so he can be fucked easier."

What neither of the Brothers mentioned was the fact that their bedrooms
had, in the space of days, turned into the bitches' bedrooms. Though they
repeated the old aphorism a lot, none of the brothers had quite grasped
that the side effect of the bitches anchoring the pack to the Station was
that the Station became theirs—in a sense.

A less accommodating set of bitches might have run rough-shod over their
adoring masters, but as with so many instances, the Brothers of Wolf
Station had lucked out. These American bitches had much better sense. The
trio acted as though a bedroom's original inhabitant, which happily worked
out to be the one who'd Sealed them in the first place, was a necessary
part of the furniture. The room was simply incomplete without the right
Brother there to fuck them every night.

Not that guests got ignored. Happily, the bitches also turned out to be
accommodating when it came to bedmates, welcoming most every Brother that
showed up at the Station into their beds. Wulf occasionally mused about
what motivated his sexily submissive blond. It might simply have been due
to his being Sealed—though none of the bitches he'd ever met before were
like this. Or maybe it was due to his having been fucked into submission
over the course of a week—but again, that was just standard practice
when monkey boy got Sealed. In the end Wulf decided this was yet another
example of the luck of the Station. This specific trio of bitches' inner
nature must have given them a predilection for being regularly bred by a
Brother, any Brother. Or, often enough, any Brothers.

The de facto alpha smiled when Franklin and Steve-o appeared on the
veranda. (Isaac wasn't with them, so maybe the dark-haired beauty had
finally gotten the Bunyip to take him along on a hunt.)

Franklin had a pail, and he immediately set to washing the windows. Like
the trollop he was, the sweet bitch got as much water on himself,
plastering the flimsy fabric of the shorts to his body, as he did on the
windows. Wulf felt his cock rising in his sweats, and he wondered how long
he could resist the bitch's allures.

Steve-o was more direct, which of course he would be having spent years
being fucked almost constantly.

"Mr. Silverback," the ginger bitch said with a leer, "You're needed in the
bedroom."

Grey smiled.

"Now!" Steve-o said, and he turned on his heel. The bitch's dirty jock
displayed his ass, and its effect was like waving a hunk of red meat in
front of a carnivore.

"Pardon me, Wulf," the silverback said. "Sound like I'm under orders."

Wulf watched, smiling as his friend followed his own hardon inside. Looking
over at Franklin whose tented shorts showed the bitch sported an erection
as insistent as his own, the alpha beckoned.

"Franklin, we're all alone, and there's no Bunyip here to object."

Wulf spread his legs, and the blond all but dove between then, pulling down
the waistband and swallowing his master's fat cock.

Languidly stroking the boy's hair, Wulf smiled. In a surprisingly short
time, he, Grey, and the Bunyip (Yeah, Wulf had to give the pup credit for
his hard work) had made a fine den, a place where any and all could retreat
to and decompress from the pressures of the urban wilds.

Yeah, Wulf was ready for life at Wolf Station to fall into a peaceful and
comfortable groove.