Twisted Tales
by Richard Campbell
The Plan
Being young was an absolute pain. At the beck and call of all and sundry; kowtowing to those in authority (which meant anybody older than himself), ordered to do the boring jobs that no-one else wanted to take on. He often wondered, while trotting off reluctantly to do as he was told, what would happen if he disobeyed. But that was unthinkable, mere adolescent fantasy. The consequences would be appalling even for him, despite a recently discovered ability, of which, previously, he'd only heard the odd rumour. It might be useful, providing he could discover how to call on it. So far it had only come about by accident.
So, here he was, all by himself, checking a stretch of forest in the unlikely event that something threatening would miraculously appear out of thin air. Fond hopes, he thought sourly, nothing ever happened here. Which was why he'd been assigned to the area in the first place.
Reaching a pool fed by a small spring, he stopped for a drink. Gazing at his face reflected in the still water he decided that he was rather good looking. Not that anyone else thought so! How was he supposed to get together with someone when everybody looked down on him?
He was about to resume his perambulations when, and he could scarcely believe his eyes, something did occur. Moving stealthily into cover, he regarded the miracle across the pool. It was hard to judge but he sensed that the intruder was a similar age to himself. With growing fascination and excitement he observed it closely. He was supposed call a warning, that was what he was there for, but what was happening was absorbing all his attention. The creature was about to do something he himself often did. With a happy sort of cry, it plunged into the water.
No, not it! Far, far better. He!
He felt his excitement growing. The 'he' was beautiful! Very different to himself, but beautiful.
After splashing about for a few minutes the intruder left the water and wiped himself, flicking drops of water around in the process, then lay down on the soft grass. Why, he wondered, forgetting briefly about his newly discovered ability, didn't he simply shake himself dry?
Then another and even more interesting event occurred. After a quick check to make sure he was unobserved, the creature took hold of itself and a few seconds later his sensitive nose detected something new. Something never scented before, something which excited him so much that throwing caution to the winds he slid out of the undergrowth.
The boy gasped, jumped to his feet and turned to run, then glanced back over his shoulder. What he saw made him pause. Instead of baleful eyes and slavering jaws, the wolf's tail was waving vigorously and he could have sworn that the animal was smiling. Cautiously he turned around. He should of course call a warning. This, after all, was a wolf, But, somehow, it didn't appear to be a very threatening one. If anything it seemed friendly and, when he examined it more closely, attractive, with a beautiful coat and striking, gentle eyes.
He felt an urge to approach it, to caress that beautiful fur. Would it allow him to? He took a tentative step, delighted when he saw it do the same. No, not it—he! That became plain when the wolf turned and began to trot round the edge of the pool towards him. Even more plain was the animal's excitement. His own excitement began to grow again.
They met, and a quivering nose was lifted to his stomach.Then a warm pink tongue slurped up the remnants of his pleasure. The boy giggled, stroked the wolf's head, then sat down and hugged him, his face against the wolf's. "Are you as randy as I am?" he asked softly.
The wolf's smile seemed to grow, as did the wolf himself. Before either of them could grasp what had happened, the boy found himself hugging another boy, one moreover, just as beautiful as the animal he'd been holding seconds previously.
Somewhat confused explanations took place, but they weren't important. What was important, and uppermost in both youthful minds, took priority.
A few rapturous minutes later, each had taken care of the other's excitement, albeit, in a very simple fashion. Perhaps it was the pleasure and relief, but to the astonishment of both, the second boy was suddenly a wolf again.
Abruptly he sat up, ears pricked in the direction of the woods. He stood and nudged his companion, indicating that something was approaching and he should leave.
"Will I see you again soon?"
The wolf nodded, then nudged him again with a cold nose.
Regretfully, the boy picked up his clothing and left.
Once he was sufficiently far away the young wolf, in the fashion of his kind, gave the warning. Trained to give as much information as briefly as possible, he simply called out a single word.
A short while later, three irritated members of the pack who, after investigating the area with eyes, ears and noses, turned on him. "Stupid cub! Why did you leave it so late? Give the warning sooner next time!"
After they left he did some serious thinking. Fraternising with the enemy, as they would consider it, was against pack law and there would be consequences if it was discovered. Despite that, he was determined to meet the boy again. What they had done had been very sweet and very satisfying but he knew instinctively that they both wanted to go a lot further. In which case he must ensure that the pack left them alone. The thought gave him pause. While on the subject, was there anything else he wanted?
Well, a couple of things. To be his own wolf was probably the most important—he was sick and tired of taking orders from all and sundry. To be free of the rigid hierarchy was another thing he'd like. Not by advancing to the top of the pack, even if he was capable of doing so, which he wasn't. He was too small to take anyone on and hated fighting anyway, but he'd had enough of being pushed around. There were other things he wanted as well, but those were the most important.
How to set about it? The answer, plainly, was to use his brains plus his knowledge of wolf nature. For some time he considered it, and after much thought, came up with a plan that seemed to cover every eventuality. It would result in him going rogue but would achieve everything he wanted.
Could he live like that? Wolves are social creatures after all. Well, provided he was not on his own he could and he was certain he'd found a companion, even if that companion belonged to a different species. Having taken into account everything he could think of, he moved away from the pond and called the warning again.
This time there wasn't even a cold scent for those who responded to detect. Neither was there the third and fourth times, each cry from a different place.
Irritation gave way to anger, then to rage, and at the fifth false call, the pack banded together and made it plain that he was not wanted and no longer a member.
Suppressing the canine equivalent of a grin, he returned to the pond and there was the boy. Willing, eager and ready to go! Rearing up, he placed his paws on the boy's shoulders, encouraging him to kneel, licked his face and nuzzled him, trying by his actions to convey what he wanted him to do. He couldn't change his shape, just then, to explain it in words.
Slightly confused, the boy obediently dropped to his knees. The wolf gave him a final lick then turned and backed towards him, hoping the boy would understand that it was a necessary part of his plan. As he switched his tail aside and glanced back over his shoulder he registered the naughty, lustful grin on the boy's face. It had worked! Then he felt those amazing paws clasp him firmly and, after a brief check to ensure he was on target, the boy was in as far as he could reach.
Even through the pleasurable shock of it he heard the members of the pack, who had followed him stealthily—he'd known they would, and counted on it!—give a collective gasp of revulsion, tuck their tails between their legs and stumble away, nauseated and retching. Then there was only bliss.
The pack were long gone when his companion dropped enticingly to all fours and in his boy form, after a brief explanation, he too mounted, pushed, and thrust ecstatically. This was right. This was his comrade and his mate, and all was right with the world.
The pack was never the same again. Try as they might, they could not blot the sight of a male being raped by another male—and by a human male at that!—from their minds.
In time it entered the annals of pack lore and every cub knew, though it was only alluded to reluctantly and in highly embarrassed hints, the awful thing that could happen to the wolf who cried boy.
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