she and Hood’s sister were one and the same. But, again, they didn’t tell me her name. Just called her Princess .
So by the time I really started smelling her, I was fully intrigued. I mean, the losers had all taken their turns--jacking off to telling me about her, how she smelled, how she acted, how bad they wanted to take her down to the ground and fuck her until she screamed, or howled or whatever. Some of their pictures were pretty ugly.
I only listened because sometimes they let important information slip, little tidbits about Pack City and its other inhabitants. I didn’t get off on their little brain trips.
I knew, at that point, why they preferred lupus to crinos or human. Less vulnerable. Less pathetic.
They turned out to be invaluable to me. All I had to do was hold them down, threaten to slit their throats--catching them one on one over a period of time--to get them to swear an oath that they’d help me, if the time came. Basically, we were all watching each other’s backs, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust them or not.
Only the pack was clueless.
At least, that’s what I thought. I’m rethinking it, now. Maybe Leer was in on it. I’ve heard too much about him. And he and Hood are pretty tight.
But Hood stacked some wood at the shed door, the night that I was supposed to come in and get his sister. So to speak. He made sure that Kayty was the vulnerable spot in the plan, the one who would have to struggle between instinct and orders. Guaranteed Leer’s co-operation, I think, through the blame he laid at Kayty’s feet.
Kayty was supposed to guard the cargo. Hood’s sister.
Waiting in the bushes, I was rock hard--just from the smell of the ready-to-changeling. Had been for days. Had been sniffing around for so long I lost track. Yeah, the pheromones of a bitch in heat kind’ve does that to males. The fact that she came in with the moon phase didn’t escape me. I don’t know if that was natural, or if Hood had been working his hormone magic on her, too.
I caught my first glimpse of her when she made her first attempt to take a run. Instinct, I think, to get out, be free before the change takes you over. Maybe a self-preservation mechanism, to find a safe spot where nobody can watch while you’re down and defenseless.
Only, from what I understand, in Pack City, they tend to watch out for their young. Maybe gather around for the show, but, well, you get the picture.
So I learned something about Hood’s sister when she tried to slip out. She didn’t like audiences. That is not to say that she didn’t enjoy being part of an audience.
Anyhow, I spotted her. And she saw me. But...the losers intervened. I couldn’t believe they stopped her from leaving when she was heading straight toward me. And they were in the middle of one of their little circle jerks, so I didn’t really expect her to be distracted. There’s more to a female change than I understand, and maybe to the pecking order within a pack.
Picture me...in crinos...crouching in the bushes. Downwind. She’s still in wolf form--something that doesn’t really turn me on, as I don’t shift to lupus. But, I can say...she was pretty. She had a fur coat that looked soft as silk. Its silver-on-black tips over white fur had me thinking about breeding. I mean, genetics. The difference between her and the mangy scraggly pack--there was no comparison. Her feet all tracked forward. Theirs tended to go east and west. Some of their hips slunk when they walked--and you knew they weren’t far from manifesting full dysplasia. Her ears were perfectly formed, tall, erect, straight forward. And her nose had a length to it that matched the shape of her wide head.
Once, she turned her head toward where I was, tipped it, crooked her ears, and squinted her broad-set eyes. Intelligence, that’s what I saw. She let out a faint
So by the time I really started smelling her, I was fully intrigued. I mean, the losers had all taken their turns--jacking off to telling me about her, how she smelled, how she acted, how bad they wanted to take her down to the ground and fuck her until she screamed, or howled or whatever. Some of their pictures were pretty ugly.
I only listened because sometimes they let important information slip, little tidbits about Pack City and its other inhabitants. I didn’t get off on their little brain trips.
I knew, at that point, why they preferred lupus to crinos or human. Less vulnerable. Less pathetic.
They turned out to be invaluable to me. All I had to do was hold them down, threaten to slit their throats--catching them one on one over a period of time--to get them to swear an oath that they’d help me, if the time came. Basically, we were all watching each other’s backs, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust them or not.
Only the pack was clueless.
At least, that’s what I thought. I’m rethinking it, now. Maybe Leer was in on it. I’ve heard too much about him. And he and Hood are pretty tight.
But Hood stacked some wood at the shed door, the night that I was supposed to come in and get his sister. So to speak. He made sure that Kayty was the vulnerable spot in the plan, the one who would have to struggle between instinct and orders. Guaranteed Leer’s co-operation, I think, through the blame he laid at Kayty’s feet.
Kayty was supposed to guard the cargo. Hood’s sister.
Waiting in the bushes, I was rock hard--just from the smell of the ready-to-changeling. Had been for days. Had been sniffing around for so long I lost track. Yeah, the pheromones of a bitch in heat kind’ve does that to males. The fact that she came in with the moon phase didn’t escape me. I don’t know if that was natural, or if Hood had been working his hormone magic on her, too.
I caught my first glimpse of her when she made her first attempt to take a run. Instinct, I think, to get out, be free before the change takes you over. Maybe a self-preservation mechanism, to find a safe spot where nobody can watch while you’re down and defenseless.
Only, from what I understand, in Pack City, they tend to watch out for their young. Maybe gather around for the show, but, well, you get the picture.
So I learned something about Hood’s sister when she tried to slip out. She didn’t like audiences. That is not to say that she didn’t enjoy being part of an audience.
Anyhow, I spotted her. And she saw me. But...the losers intervened. I couldn’t believe they stopped her from leaving when she was heading straight toward me. And they were in the middle of one of their little circle jerks, so I didn’t really expect her to be distracted. There’s more to a female change than I understand, and maybe to the pecking order within a pack.
Picture me...in crinos...crouching in the bushes. Downwind. She’s still in wolf form--something that doesn’t really turn me on, as I don’t shift to lupus. But, I can say...she was pretty. She had a fur coat that looked soft as silk. Its silver-on-black tips over white fur had me thinking about breeding. I mean, genetics. The difference between her and the mangy scraggly pack--there was no comparison. Her feet all tracked forward. Theirs tended to go east and west. Some of their hips slunk when they walked--and you knew they weren’t far from manifesting full dysplasia. Her ears were perfectly formed, tall, erect, straight forward. And her nose had a length to it that matched the shape of her wide head.
Once, she turned her head toward where I was, tipped it, crooked her ears, and squinted her broad-set eyes. Intelligence, that’s what I saw. She let out a faint
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