The Journal of Peter Bishop

This story was commissioned by Tauro2, who I also want to credit as a co-writer on the piece. After reading my commission, he added a few entries of his own, especially to the ending. Hope you all enjoy it! You can find more of his writing over here.


Report 4610-12 of the Special Investigations Bureau

Overview

What follows are excerpts from a journal found, found at a trail head in the Rocky Mountains in April 2018. The journal belonged to one Peter Bishop, who had gone missing on the trail in July of 2017. The journal has been determined to be authentic by one Tasha Holmes, who was Peter’s girlfriend at the time of his disappearance. He kept the journal as a record of their backpacking trip through the wilderness, and his encounter with two other men, still unidentified, known only in the journal as Saul and Jim. What follows are excerpts from that journal relevant to Peter’s encounter with Saul and Jim, their activities together, and material relevant to his disappearance. The journal itself is considered a class two contaminant–access to the journal itself is restricted to level three classification with full PPE protocol 7 required for access.

***

July 16th, 2017 

[…] As I’ve written earlier, you get a strange sense of loneliness out here on the trails. I think I have seen more animals out here any people, and given how Tasha can get when she’s bored, I sometimes wonder if they might be better company! We’re a few days out from the next trailhead, where we can go down to town and resupply, maybe spend a night in a bed even! 

It was a surprise then, and a welcome one, that when he rounded a corner of the trail we found a nice campsite, and it was already occupied! I couple of guys were there, named Jim and Saul, already settled in and cooking themselves dinner–a rather tasty looking roast hare that Jim had, apparently, snared himself earlier in the day. They were generous with the meat, and neither of us had had fresh anything in days–since our fishing skills leave much to be desired, as I have noted.

It was nice having some conversation for a change, and both Jim and Saul have a great sense of humor and quick wits. Tasha, though, was quiet all evening, and it was later that I found out why–she was understandably nervous about the two of us camping with two strange men out in the middle of nowhere–what if they killed me raped her, she wondered.

Sigh–she can be so extreme sometimes. I don’t think we have anything to worry about. […]

***

July 17th. 

We woke up this morning, to discover that Jim and Saul were braking camp themselves, and were heading in the same direction as us–towards the next trailhead. I suggested that the three of us might as well hike together for the company at least, and both Jim and Saul were thrilled at the prospect of me coming along with them.

Tasha was pissed at me though. She wanted us to camp here one more night, and then leave, so we could be away from them. I pressed her for more details, about why she was so nervous about these two, but she wouldn’t give me much of anything. They smelled, she said (we all smell–none of us have been near an actual shower in weeks) she didn’t like how friendly they were with me, while neither one of them had said ten words to her this entire time. A few times, she caught Jim looking at her with a real…nasty sort of disdain or disgust. Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. It made me think about how jealous she could get, if we were at the club and another girl was looking at me. 

Knowing it would probably just piss her off more, but kind of enjoying it, I told her that they were probably gay. Two guys with few boundaries sleeping in one tent in the backwoods? She got all huffy then, but she knew I was probably right–it explained why neither of them had shown her any interest at all, but that only made her angrier I think. She didn’t really like gay guys much–though lesbians are fine if they’re flirting with her, naturally.

I’ll have to make sure she doesn’t read this part–but I’m starting to have my doubts. A month in the outdoors, relying on someone…you get to know them more than you want to, in some ways.

[…]

After lunch, we get moving again. Jim, who is pretty obviously the strongest of all of us, moves to the head of the pack. Tasha is behind him, and ahead of me, still mad about that dig I gave her over lunch, and that left me and Saul in the back, a good ten yards back from them both. Saul is…well, built like a brick shit house, and a few inches shorter than Jim. He’s plenty strong, but more in the ‘lifting heavy shit kind of way’ and not in the ‘cover ten miles a day for two weeks kind of way’. I like his pace a bit better honestly, even if he sweats like a pig, and kind of smells like one too, let’s be honest. We chat, and I ask them where they’ll be finishing their hike, and they tell me they’re heading to a particular cave deeper in the mountains. It’s a few days out from the trailhead we’re heading to, so they’ll be going off from there. 

I ask them about it, and Saul talks wistfully about it. Right by a massive mountain lake, great views, lots of stuff to forage, good hunting for snares. He and Jim usually stay there for a week, living off the land, before coming back. He did such a good job selling me on it, I kind of want to see it myself, honestly.

[…]

I mention it to Tasha in our tent, the cave, and she…gets so angry at me for even mentioning it. She tells me that Jim was so cold to her earlier, and…she swears he bared her teeth at her and growled when she tried to make conversation. Jim was so nice over dinner though–I don’t get it. They’re two perfectly nice guys–why does she have to try and hate everything that seems threatening to her?

***

July 19th

The weirdest thing just happened. The call of nature woke me up and I went out to piss on a tree. I was just about to start when Jim scares the shit out of me. How can he be so quiet moving through the forest? Not just that, he was shirtless. He has to be the hairiest guy that I’ve met in my whole life. He said that he needed to piss too and asked to join me. I usually don’t like peeing next to other guys, even in a restroom with dividers, but when he sidled up next to me–way too close for comfort…it actually was kind of nice, somehow. So we’re standing there, pissing away at the same tree, and Jim asks me about Sasha–it’s pretty clear there’s no love lost between the two of them. I guess I should have defended her more, but yeah, she’s really been a wet blanket so far on this hike. I finished up, wished him a good night, and he turned to say goodbye. It wasn’t until I got back to the tent that I realized that he had peed on me a little at some point. I could…smell it, and it made me a bit horny, somehow. I thought about waking Sasha up for a little fun, but I just ended up jacking off quietly instead. It seemed…better.

***

July 20th

[…]

I didn’t think she’d actually just…leave like that. Fuck–well, it’s too late to chase her down now, and honestly…I’d rather hike with Jim and Saul, if I’m being honest.

We hit the trailhead around noon, just in time for lunch. Tasha and I hadn’t mentioned the cave since I first brought it up–but now the moment of truth is here, and I start asking the guys about it again, just to get some more details. It’s about 20 miles, but the trail is rough and hard going–it takes about three days in, and two out–once you know the land–and you’re going downhill. Tasha immediately notes we don’t have the supplies–and she’s right. But after hearing them talk about it for days now, I’m, well, I really want to see the thing!

Tasha refuses to even play the game, as I try and figure out how to make it work. She wants us away from them as fast as possible, and she blows up at me, and at them, yelling that they’re turning me against her, that she hates them, that if I don’t leave with her this second, we’re through. She gets up, grabs her pack, and heads for town a few miles out. I let her–and figure she’ll come back in a second when she realizes she doesn’t have my half of the gear anymore–but while we wait a couple of hours after lunch, just relaxing and chatting…she really did just fuck off and leave me here.

I tell the guys I need to find her…but they just laugh, and tell me to leave her. She obviously doesn’t have my sense of adventure–and they’re right. Saul tells me that they have enough food for the three of us, that Jim is the best hunter, and Saul is the best forager, and we’ll have plenty to eat.

So fuck it. I went with them. Why not? I’m tired of Tasha anyway–I don’t care if she waits or not. I’ll be down in a couple of weeks probably, and we’ll sort things out then. For now–I want to see this cave, and enjoy the forest. That’s what I came here to do anyway–not to play stupid games with her.

[…]

Fuck, I just realized she has the tent with her. I told the guys, and they laughed, and told me I could sleep with them–said they’ll keep me safe from the bears and wolves.

[…]

***

July 21st

Well that was an interesting night. I had been carrying the food for most of the trip, while Tasha had the tent–when she marched off yesterday, we didn’t exactly take the time to redivide the packs. I told Jim and Saul that I’d just sleep under the stars, but they insisted that there was enough room in the tent with them…and they were mostly right. I figured I’d end up on the outside, but they put my stuff in the middle between them, and after the day’s hike along the narrow, overgrown trail, I was too tired to argue. Then, both the guys strip down to just their underwear–Jim in a…really nasty looking jockstrap, let’s be honest, and Saul just has on some equally nasty briefs, and they climb in and just sandwich me in there.

Jim is behind me, and spooning me, and my face is planted right next to Saul’s sweaty, stinking pit. I thought he smelled bad on the trail, but being that close to him–to them both, honestly–was something else entirely. They both fall asleep in moments, and I’m left trying to get comfortable–but I do drift off eventually…and that’s when it happens.

It must have been some dream. I can’t remember a single bit of it. All I know is that I’m woken up by Jim shaking me, and I’m shuddering, and realize a moment too late that I just had a wet dream between them. Saul is awake too, and the two of them just start laughing, and I feel humiliated, honestly, but then they’re hugging me tight, and…and I actually do feel better, you know?

I can’t remember the last time I’ve had two guys touch me as often as they do. They want to be around me. They want me here–I really believe that. And…more and more…I want to be here too.

[…]

Caught a whiff of Saul’s BO on the trail, and immediately popped a huge boner. Fuck–what the fuck is wrong with me?

[…]

As the day wore on, Saul and Jim kept taking off clothes, complaining about how hot it was. It was hot, but not…that hot, with this many trees and the brush we’re pushing through. But we hit a meadow just now, and I looked and saw Jim take off his pants too, and shove them in his pack. His ass…fuck, why the fuck am I looking at his ass? Jim wants to camp here for the night, and he runs off into the woods, mostly naked, to ‘set some snares’ while Saul lumbers off to go forage, leaving me alone to get camp set up.

These guys are so fucking weird, but why…fuck, I kind of miss them, and they haven’t been gone for half an hour. I heard a wolf howl in the twilight, and got a bit nervous. I hope they get back soon.

[…]

***

July 22nd

Another wet dream last night. Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with me? They’re the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had, and neither Saul nor Jim seem to care one bit. Once I wake up, they both just hold me close and…and they smell so good. Jim smells different than Saul, I’ve learned. There’s…this smell, like rust almost. It’s…thrilling in its own way too. I get hard again, while they’re cuddling me, and they suggest we all jerk off to relieve some pressure. I haven’t jacked off with guys since college in the frat, but I don’t object. I end up huffing Saul’s pit stink and stoking harder and harder while they both urge me on, and I cum again, another massive load–and then Jim is licking it off my belly, and his tongue feels too long in the dark, Saul snorting and huffing as he jacks his own cock, and the smells intensify suddenly, like something…changed, and I fall back asleep again not long after that, exhausted.

[…]

The guys have been teasing me relentlessly, and so I’m finally hiking naked with them, in just my boots. I thought it would be weird, but it’s actually…kind of nice. I can see a cliff face rising in the distance. The guys say we’ll reach the cave tomorrow morning or afternoon, depending on our pace. They’re…excited. I can smell it on them, and they’re quiet now. Quieter, I guess. I don’t know how I can tell really, it’s strange. I can smell…a lot of things better out here, somehow. Like the air is just clearer. I haven’t seen a jet trail all day, I just realized. The sky is so blue.

[…]

I feel like something must be happening to me, but I don’t even really know how to explain it. It started earlier today, as he hiked, we passed…something. A threshold. But the air got so much…brighter. Not light bright, but crisp somehow. I don’t know how to even write this. Saul and Jim seemed to sense it too, and…and they smelled different too, more pungent sure, but also…I don’t know, it’s so hard to describe what I’m feeling, and that’s not even the craziest thing honestly. I was going off to take a leak, and then Jim comes right beside me and grins. It was kind of like that night a few days ago. I don’t know how to make this sound…not crazy, or freaky, or whatever, but it wasn’t. It was…natural, somehow. He started pissing before me, and the smell from it hits me and then everything got foggy, like I can’t think, just observe. He pushed me down to my knees and started pissing all over me. And that smell covered me and I got rock hard. He circled around me and covered me and I just sat there and took it and loved it. I started jerking off and he kept going. He finished and shook the last few drops on me and I blew my load right there and I just fell over, not able to think, just experiencing it. Saul came over and they both lied down beside me, saying things that I didn’t fully understand. Something about being “marked”? I think. I just felt such affection for them. I know it’s gross and disgusting and wrong, but I loved every second of it. I think I love them. What’s wrong with me? Why is all of this happening?

***

July 23rd

We got to the lake–it’s beautiful. Fuck, they weren’t kidding, everything out here is damn pristine. I thought about Tasha this morning, and realized it was the first time I’d thought about her since two days ago, with the whole tent thing. I haven’t missed her, I don’t want to share this with her. But I’m so…fucking glad I met Jim and Saul. I feel…fuck, love feels like a stupid word for a couple of guys like them, but what else do I say? There’s something between them–something deep. I feel like they’re doing something to me. Drawing me in with them into the same bond. I feel closer to them than I have to anyone in my whole life, and…and now that I’m here, I don’t know if I want to leave, you know? I just…forgot to put on clothes this morning, just my boots, all three of us just walking around naked now, like a pack of idiots, or animals, or whatever. 

[…]

They have something planned for us at the cave this evening, I think. They keep whispering between each other, and looking back at me and smiling. It’s…kind of a hungry smile. But I trust them. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t think I could help it now.

***

The following entries are undated. All of them were entered after the 23rd, The first several are likely from the following few weeks. Much of the handwriting is large, like Peter was writing with a hand not used to holding a pen.

[…]

Fuck it wasn’t a dream it wasn’t a fucking dream, I don’t fucking, how could any of that have fucking happened I don’t

[…]

I gotta write it down, I gotta write it. Just get it out, what I remember.

So we got to the cave. The place is huge, just…like a big worn out hole in the wall of the cliff, that also goes deep. We go down, and as we go, there’s these torches, and Jim and Saul know where everything is, like they’ve been here more than once. The cave is sloping down, and we come to a sizable underground lake where rainwater must have pooled for ages. But on the shore, all around us, are all of these…artifacts. 

I don’t really know what happened next exactly. There was something in my lunch–I thought it was just disagreeing with me, but I think…it was a drug. Something they gave me. I was floating, and everything swimming a bit. Saul had been supporting me down into the cave, and now he led me over to this stone slab and laid me down on it, and fuck, I thought they were going to kill me. I thought I was seeing shit then, when…Jim just fucking changed.

Fucking wolfman. He’s a fucking wolfman! I could hear his bones cracking, and all this grey fur sprouted all over him, a thick fluffy tail, and his fucking teeth, his eyes. I realized why he smelled like rust, why he was such a good snarer–and why he’d never let me see the rabbits before he cleaned them–because there would have been fucking fang marks on that shit. He was fucking hunting–as a wolf!

He’s looming over me, and Saul is too, except Saul is different also–though a bit…more human, I guess. His face–he looks like a boar. Short pig snout, these two long tusks thrusting out from his lower jaw, floppy ears. He has a short tuft of a tail behind him, his back covered with boar bristle. He’s just…huge, and thick–both of them are over six feet tall I think, and then they’re chanting, and…and Jim has this bear claw in his hand, a real fucking bear claw, and he drives it down into my chest.

It doesn’t hurt. I don’t even see blood–and the claw…it’s gone, like it just slid into my body and disappeared. I think I must be tripping, having some dream, but the more this is happening, the more I’m remembering my dreams from the last few nights, how…how I’d seen this happening. I knew what was coming next, could feel the power thrumming through me on the stone slab, Jim and Saul still chanting, the fires are so damn bright, and I start to change too.

I can feel it happening, but there’s no pain. If anything, it feels good, like the rush after you take a drug or something, this sudden euphoria as I watch my bones start to lengthen and shift, every part of me getting thicker, as a thick belt of black hair starts filling in across my body. My gut grows out into a solid mass, my shoulders so damn broad, and I open my jaw, almost like I’m yawning, but I can feel my face extending into a snout, tipped with a black nose, jaws full of fangs, my hands…are kind of human, but the nails are claws now. And I’m lying there, my cock harder than it has ever been, and still mostly human–though emerging from a sheath–and before I can do anything or even catch my breath, Saul is on it, sucking and licking at it, and I…roar? Moan? Something. I don’t know what these sounds are, but fuck it feels good.

Jim kisses me, and I can taste the blood now, and it’s making me hornier still. I…lose myself. Whatever they gave me, it’s only getting more intense, and I…I don’t remember much of what happened that night. I fucked them both, hard and rough, especially Jim. We…wrestled, and fought. Not serious, but I have a few bite marks, and I know I gave him a couple of scratches, before I topped him and…and I won, I guess.

Won is the wrong word. There’s nothing to win, but I showed…superiority. That’s the only way to explain it. I lumbered off into the woods in the early morning, terrified, unable to believe what I had become, what I was now, and…and I was starving. I stripped some berries off a bush and devoured them, I found a stream and…fuck, I just knew how to catch trout now, as they leapt out of the water and…I was so hungry. I caught more, I brought them back, and Saul and Jim had gotten some food for us as well, and we ate and…they told me everything.

[…] 

I belong here, with them. I see that now. They knew that as soon as they’d smelled me, back with Tasha. It took me so long to realize it. I’m an idiot. Such a fucking idiot. 

[…]

The second night, I decided to be better to them. Gentler, maybe. I…I lost control, I didn’t know what I was capable of, and…and honestly, I still don’t, but it was a test too–to see who was strongest. I’m…in charge, I guess. Jim was before, and he thought I would be under him, but he doesn’t resent me for it. It’s not…anything strict. It’s…complicated, and yet so obvious and simple at the same time. I wanted this night to be about them, and about…me gaining a bit of control back. 

Saul stood in front of me. His cock was short but thick and oozed precum. Fuck, his balls; they’re like two hairy oranges dangling between his legs. I used my coarse tongue on his nut sack and then started lapping the cockhead. Jim started to give me a rim job. Fuck, he knew exactly where to put that tongue of his. Saul snorted the whole time and tweaked his nipples. I gave the occasional satisfied growl. Between my ass getting eaten out, the taste of Saul’s pre, and his musky bush, I was leaking pretty heavily. Finally, his thrusts increased and he shot his load into my mouth. Where does it all come from? I mean, yeah, his nuts are huge, but even I couldn’t possibly swallow it all. I don’t think that I got half of it. I moved to start sucking Jim off, and I wanted Saul to rim me too, but he warned against it with his tusks. I later learned that he had once tried a rim job on Jim; Jim couldn’t sit down for a whole week. Instead, Saul licked my cock from below while I deep-throated Jim. His cock was longer than Saul’s and I had to work my tongue around it to get the whole shaft. I came at the same time that Jim did, covering Saul’s face. Jim happily went down and licked his face clean. And then we just laid back under the stars, snuggling each other. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.

[…]

They helped me change back to human. I look different. I’m me, but I’m not really who I was. I smell different. I’m hairier, bigger, maybe even older, but that’s harder to tell. Clothes feel awful–we all hate wearing them. Even being human is–it feels wrong now. It’s not who I am, it’s just a mask, but we don’t want to wear the masks. Jim and Saul left for the winter to avoid the cold, and it took them all Spring and Summer to get back here. This place isn’t…a place. It’s a feeling, and a smell. I don’t know if I really understand it, but we’re all afraid to leave again. If we don’t find our way back, we’ll be stuck, and we…I think about the human world, and I hate it. All of it. I always did, that’s why I loved hiking. But with the three of us, late in the season…we want to try. I don’t know if we’ll make it, but we have to at least try.

***

The entries become fewer in number. Most detail their life through the fall and into the early winter.

We bagged a fucking elk! I can’t believe it. We’ve got this shit down. Saul spotted it yesterday and we made a plan. Saul and I chased it down a ravine to Jim’s hiding spot. He took it down like a fucking boss! I did feel a little sorry for it, but Papa Bear’s gotta eat. Saul carried it back to the den (and I got to watch his muscles work the whole time). This thing’s gonna keep us fed for a good week at least. Afterwards, we decided to have some fun, I was so ready. I stuck my nose right into Saul’s rank pit and came right there on the spot. I even let Jim fuck me, he deserved it. He was more than willing to eat me out right afterwards too. Fuck, that tongue of his. Saul blew his load down my throat and we all snuggled for a little while after in my den. Do we got this winter thing? Do we all shit in the woods?

[…]

Why did I read that last entry? So hungry. Did we catch that elk a month ago? I think? Things haven’t been good. The ground’s too frozen for Saul to dig out any tubers. I can still catch a few fish, but a lot of the streams have frozen over, and it gets old, nothing but fish. Even Jim can’t catch that much, just one or two rabbits every couple of days. It’s not enough. And those fucking squirrels! They know how to stay just out of reach. Even Jim can’t catch them. I got within a couple of inches of one and I swear the little fucker flipped me off,. I’m pretty sure he flipped me off. I’m gonna bite that squirrel’s fucking face off.

[…]

We finally bit the bullet. We left the cave and the lake, and came back, down the mountains, and into town. Jim managed to find a cruddy apartment in town where the landlord wouldn’t ask too many questions. It’s not much, but we’re together. And we don’t mind the cold, so we just keep the heat on enough to keep the pipes from freezing. It’s been rough though, getting used to…people again. Jim and I managed to get jobs at the general store, even in the slow winter months, and the work is a distraction at least. It’s been harder on Saul. It’s difficult for him to go out in public. He can shower, but he’ll start stinking again in about an hour. Of course, I don’t mind, but he gets nasty looks if he gets too close to people. He’s been shovelling sidewalks for cash, and other odd jobs like that, but I think he misses home more than both of us. Jim and I go to the bars, just the two of us; I feel guilty about it, but Saul insists. He doesn’t want us to stay in just because of him–though we stay in more often than not. Getting drunk…well, we’re so big it takes a whole fucking lot, and we also tend to, well, lose control. It’s best if we…stay inside, together.

[…]

I just feel like such a fucking failure. They don’t want me to take it too hard, winter is…rough, but I feel like I failed them. I’m…I’m the leader, somehow, and they trust me, and I did my best, and we all agreed to come back, to change back, but now here we are, back with the people, and we all hate it so much. I can already smell the lake slipping away, moving away, god, if we don’t find it again come Spring, fuck. We aren’t meant for this world. The only time we can transform is when we’re in bed together. Even then, we can’t do everything we want. We want to make all of the noises, all of the growls and roars and howls and oinks and squeals and grunts and fucks that we fucking want to. I start to think that we should have just stayed out there, even if we starved to death. I can’t do that to Saul and Jim though. I need to figure something out. If we can get more people, we can get more skills, more hunters, more foragers, more contributors. I don’t think I can do this again.

[…]

I almost forgot about this journal. It’s been spring about a month now, and compared to being trapped in town, it’s like heaven. We ripped each other’s clothes off the moment we got far enough into the woods. And then we went at each other. I may have been a little too rough with them. I’m hoping Saul doesn’t get scars from those claw marks. But what do you expect, we’d been cooped up for what seemed like forever. Now we just have to find that damn cave again, just have to get home again. I…can almost smell it, maybe. I sniff along, but it leads me…to people, other hikers. Jim says it was the same with him–that I smelled like home somehow. Maybe…I think I have an idea, on how to get home. We met an older fellow, loves hiking and the woods, he smells so…strongly of it, and I can smell it through him, somehow. He was easy really, and he wants to see the cave himself…and I know we can get there, all of us together. With him. He’s the key, just like I was the key.

***

The final entry is the only newer entry that is dated.

June 7th, 2018

We can’t go back. We don’t want to go back anymore, but we can’t avoid it for now. But you–if you find this, you know what happened. Maybe you even feel the pull of it. You could find us too, if you want. If this is something you want. We…don’t want to go back to the world you know, and if you’re out here, you probably don’t either. You could come here though, join us. Trust your nose. Follow the trail–just do what comes naturally. We’re waiting for you, all of us. Come play, come live.

***

Further Notes

The journal was found on June 10th by two hikers who returned it to authorities when they left the trail. Both of the hikers were women. During their interrogation, both of them described a sensation of repulsion at the journal and it’s contents, mostly due to the way it smelled. Both of them, however, had heard of Peter Bishop’s disappearance, and brought the journal to town for the sake of evidence. When asked to describe this smell, one of them said, “It smells like a bear pissed all over it or something, it’s disgusting.” Most women describe a similar reaction. Men, however, find the scent mild, and somewhat intoxicating. A smaller number of men have a more troubling reaction, especially when exposed to object 4610-12-B.

4610-12B is a scrap of cloth that was stuffed in the back of the journal, between the last page and the back cover. It has been determined to be from a set of soiled underwear. Samples taken indicate it is predominantly soiled with sweat, urine, and semen. The scrap of cloth is classified as a class one contaminant. Access to it for further study is limited to level 5 access, and then, only permitted for women, who seem to remain immune to the contamination, though access is still highly discouraged. 4610-12B has been associated with five other missing persons cases, including two researchers. PPE and psychological supervision required for access.

Attempts to locate the Peter, Jim, Saul, and cave itself in the mountains have been unsuccessful. Various reasons have been posited, and you can see supplemental findings from these expeditions in files 4610-13 through 16. For details surrounding the disappearances of those exposed to the journal or the cloth, see files 4610-6 through 10. A full transcript of the journal’s entries can be found in file 4610-3.

Arctos: Mall (Part 8)

Ken didn’t know where he was, when he woke up. All he was aware of was that it was mostly dark, it smelled like both his dentist’s office and a barnyard, and he could hear some…rather inhuman racket coming from somewhere around him, through the walls. The noises were disturbing–some of them were squawks and roars and howls, other sounds were like claws running across plates of metal, and some were even cries and moans of lust. He tries to sit up and get a better look around him, but he couldn’t–his wrists and ankles were shackled to the hospital gurney he’d woken up on, and looking up around, he saw that he was hooked up to all manner of monitoring devices, with an IV drip pumping into his arm.

He struggled for a couple of minutes, trying to get loose, but it was no use. He wasn’t sure whether he should cry out for help or not–juding from the sounds around him, he might not want anything else to know he was here. Where in the world was Harris, and what did this have to do with offering him some sort of job? In the end, he decided to stay quiet–this was just some…misunderstanding, he was sure. He just had to explain himself, and when Harris came back, he’d let him go, right? It wasn’t like he was some deranged psycho–why in the hell would someone like that be running a pet store?

It was quite a while before he heard the door to the room unlock, and then Harris stepped into the room–but he wasn’t wearing the mostly normal clothes he’d had on before. Now, instead, he was dressed head to toe in rubber, including a thick rubber apron hanging off his front. “There’s my newest test subject–I hope you haven’t been waiting awake too long. I had some other business and subjects to attend to, you see.”

Ken had been wrong–clearly, this guy was absolutely a psycho. He started struggling again, tugging harder at the cuffs as Harris came closer to where he was on the gurney. With one gloved hand, he immobilized the arm with the IV drip in it, and shoved a syringe into the receptacle, and after a few moments, Ken felt a wave of euphoria wash over him, and he fell back against the bed with a sigh.

“There, isn’t that better? That should keep you feeling nice and pleasant for a while.”

“What…what are you doing to me? What was that?” Ken moaned and slurred at him.

“Oh, that was just a light sedative, with some fun mixed in. This, however, is what you should be worried about,” he said, and hooked up a bag to the IV. It was a bright yellow liquid, and Ken looked at it, and then back at Harris. “You see, men have such…unconventional tastes these days. It used to be that a brainwashed boy was enough, but now, they want all of these features and oddities. It takes so long to get the mix right for a client, and I always need test subjects. If it works like it should, you’ll go to the client, if it’s off, well, someone else will purchase you at a discount, I’m sure.”

Harris hooked the tube from the new liquid into Ken’s arm. He tried to fight, but everything felt so…heavy all of a sudden, even his eyes couldn’t really be bothered to move around in their sockets, opting instead to just stare up at the ceiling. “That’s good, just relax–it’ll be painful, but that little cocktail will cut out the worst of it, or at least, it should. Still, what’s a little pain in the end? It will just make you stronger, I assure you.”

With that, Harris stood back and sat down with a tablet, ready to observe and take notes, and all Ken could do was writhe weakly, rolling up, watching that strange yellow liquid slide into his body, his arm burning first, and then the sensation spread throughout. It was changing him–but how?


Alright, Ken is going to become a chimera! But what sort of chimera is up to you–you can choose up to three options below, and the most popular ones will get incorporated into Ken’s new form. Here’s the bonus poll for patrons as well!

Of Favors and Family – Episode 1 (Part 5)

It was going to be another half an hour or so, before they got to the place where Wade hoped Bart still lived, deep in the woods and mountains over the town, the places you avoided unless you had grown up there yourself. In the back seat, Jeremiah whimpered for a while, and then fell silent–the first time the pup had been quiet the entire day. Wade knew he should feel bad…but in all honesty, he didn’t. He’d liked it, fucking that pup’s hole like that. Not like…at his office, where the pups who gave it up to him were usually scared and resigned–not scared of him, but scared of the army. This was the first time he’d fucked someone who was scared of him–just him, not the power he had, or his reputation, or his rank. Just…him. It was a rush, and one he hadn’t really expected, and Wade was a bit terrified of just how…complete it made him feel. He wanted to do it again…and if he couldn’t find Bart, he really was tempted to just stash the boy somewhere around here for his own devices.

He parked the car at the end of a gravel path, barely wide enough to get the car down, and got out. It would be better to approach on foot, in any case. At least Bart was a congenial enough fellow, even if he didn’t like people all that much. The chances of him shooting Wade were slimmer than most of the rest of his family around here. Maybe not much slimmer, but…slimmer. Down the path, it opened up into a clearing, where a ramshackle house stood, one that had obviously been there for quite some time, and which had been expanded over the years, growing bigger and a bit sprawling as older rooms had fallen apart and been rebuilt, as the family had swelled and then contracted. There was smoke coming out of the chimney, which was a decent sign. Off to the side, of the clearing was an acre or so of tobacco growing–most of his family out here in the sticks made what little living they did off the land in one way or another, trading and bartering and squabbling amongst themselves to make ends meet. Bart’s great grandfather had happened upon tobacco as his wheelhouse, and Bart, apparently, was still growing enough to keep everyone in the mountains well stocked.

As he approached the house, Wade saw some movement over in the field, and a head popped up from the tobacco–one that he didn’t recognize as Bart’s. The pup, whoever he was, wasn’t nearly old enough to be Bart for one thing, and for another…he didn’t even look like a hound. He looked more like a labrador, with a thick mane of golden blonde hair, a bit matted and uncared for, but handsome all the same. Wade, however, wasn’t going to take any risks, and he help up his hands, indicating that he was approaching unarmed. He didn’t know who this fella could be, but one thing was for sure–he wasn’t family. No one in his family would stoop to have anything to do with any dog other than a fellow hound, and certainly not a labrador! There were only a few reasons why he might be here–and none of them bode well for Bart, or for Wade’s luck in finding a place to stash Jeremiah that would save his own hide.

The lab just stared at him, looking a bit dull eyed and fuzzy, like he wasn’t quite sure of what to make of a visitor. He gave his head a shake, and that seemed to cause a bit of clarity to come to him–much to Wade’s surprise, the lab took a look around, and then bolted towards him through the rows, still looking around, ducking low, like he didn’t want someone to see him. Wade backed away, not at all sure of what the young pup’s intentions might be, and he fell down at his feet, looked up at Wade, and whined. “Please–ya gotta git me outta here, I…I forgot, a lot, he made me forget stuff, but I…” he whined again, obviously searching for words, “I ain’t supposed tah be here! I…Help me, please help me…”

Wade just froze, not at all sure what was going on, and before he could really appraise the situation, the door of the house burst open, and an old hound strode out, cocked a shotgun, and leveled it at Wade. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, showin’ up here, but you best step the fuck away from mah boy, if ya don’t want a whole bunch of buckshot in that…” the hound paused, gave the air a sniff, and then squinted at Wade through the scratched glasses he was wearing, “Wait a minute, Wade, is that you? I know that fuckin’ smell anywhere.”

“Uh, hay Bart…sorry tah drop in so unexpectedly…” Wade said, still eyeing the shotgun Bart was holding towards him, until the older hound pulled it up, and he relaxed. The one person who didn’t relax was the lab on the ground between them. He was cowering, and whimpering, and shaking, and in a complete terror.

“Don’t you mind none, Wade! I always got time fer family, ya know that. Didn’t think ya’d be comin’ back, not after ya got intah the army. What was that…a couple years ago?”

“It’s…uh, more like twenty.”

Bart gave his whiskers a scratch, like he was mulling over some stuff in his head. “Fuckin’ smoke,” he muttered eventually, “Lose track of shit…Eh, two, twenty, what’s it matter! I’m just happy tah see ya…” he said, and pulled a beat up looking pipe from the front pocket of his overalls, and started filling it with some tobacco from the pouch at his waist. “As for the boy here, don’t mind him, he’s pretty fuckin’ dull, and don’t really got much sense. Just helps me out with the crop round here, is all.”

Wade looked from Bart, down at the lab curled up on the ground, and then back at Bart–and he could tell that something here wasn’t adding up right, not at all. Bart had never been one for help, or company–the only company he was interested in was a hole, usually, and now that he was standing here, looking at him…he could remember more…in fact, how in the hell had he forgotten so much of this? Bart…had liked him. Liked him a lot, liked his ass a lot, and Wade…had just let him fuck him, whenever his older cousin had asked for it, and he’d never been able to say no. Bart…had told him that he wanted him to come deeper into the mountains with him, live with him, be…his, but before he’d been able to, he’d gotten sucked up into the army in town, and he’d never been back. He’d forgotten all of this, and remembering it now, it was like some strange part of his head had opened up again, and when he looked down at the young pup, he realized something else–he realized that he knew exactly who this young lab was.

It had been about five years ago, when a young, poor lab from the poor side of town had gone missing. Wade remembered him–he’d been a new recruiter then, the war had been fresh, things had felt…hopeful, and then the young fellow had just up and disappeared overnight, and no one could find him anywhere. His mother claimed he’d been abducted, but no one had been able to explain how a strapping young lab could just be whisked off into the night with no evidence. In the end, the disappearance was explained as a runaway, and he was swept under the rug back in town…but apparently, he hadn’t run off into the city, like everyone had thought. He’d…run into the mountains? No–it was clear he didn’t want to be here, he–had Bart…

“So, what are you doing here, Cousin?” Bart asked, breaking Wade from his revelation. He’d finished packing his pipe, and was no toasting the top with a match, getting ready to light it properly.

“I…well, it’s a bit complicated. Maybe we could go inside, and talk about it?”

“It ain’t about my boy, right? He is mine, you know.”

“It’s not about him, no. I–you know what they say, blood is thick around here, Bart, it ain’t my business.”

Bart sighed, struck another match, and lit the pipe properly this time, puffing thick clouds of grey smoke out into the air around him. Some of it wafted in Wade’s direction, and as soon as he smelled it, he knew the scent. It made him sick to his stomach, it made him horny, it made him want to run, but his feet were somehow frozen to the dirt under his boots. Bart took his time, waved the match out, and then walked over to where Wade and the pup were. “I wish I could believe ya, cousin, but I don’t think your blood is as thick as you claim it is, since ya went and ran off, ya know? Still, can’t say I’m too surprised that you came running back here–I did always want you to feel safe. You feel safe here, don’t you?”

What was happening to him? Wade could…feel all of these memories swarming up around him, so much that he’d forgotten, so much that he’d wanted to forget. Going into the army, he’d been able to focus on something else, on becoming someone else, someone other than the runt running around in the woods and hills, getting into scrapes, making nothing of himself, getting sucked into whatever web Bart had been weaving, so much time spend in this…this smoke, his mind almost a constant haze for months, before he got plucked from it by a recruiter at the high school before he could drop out…

Why had he come here? It had seemed like such an obvious decision, back in the car. These woods, and these sounds and these smells…when was the last time he’d even been back here, that he could recall? Back when his mother died? Perhaps. It had always held such anxiety, but he’d never been able to piece it together, and had always just attributed it to some general resentment of his hill upbringing…but there was so much more, so much that he had forgot…

Bart walked up, waved a paw in front of Wade’s face, but the hound’s eyes were drooping more than usual, and didn’t seem interested in focusing on him at all. Bart exhaled a plume of smoke into his snout, just to be sure, and then bent down, fed a bit of smoke to the boy at Wade’s feet. “Boy, were you going to try to get away from me?”

“Y-Yes Pa, but…but I…”

“Hush boy,” Bart said, “Go down in the cellar, and get in your cage–we’re gonna have a long talk later.”

The pup started whining again, but did as Bart told him, stumbling back to the house, around the side, and down into the cellar underneath, leaving Bart and Wade alone next to the field, both of them wreathed with smoke. Bart waved a bit of it away, and snapped his paw in front of Wade’s snout, jostling him from his memories for a moment, to realize he was…still there. There as himself, not as some lanky teenage pup, terrified as his older cousin groped him in the underbrush, smoking, telling Wade how…happy they would be together. How he knew exactly what Wade needed, how Wade was going to be everything that Bart needed and wanted too. But he wasn’t there. That…was the past. It was the past, and he…he was here, later.

“Alright Wade, what the fuck are you doing here? You going to try and drag me back to town or something?”

Wade shook his head, swallowed a couple of times and tried to get the words in his head to organize themselves in a manner than could make sense. In spurts and false starts, he managed to tell Bart about Jeremiah, the pup in his car, handcuffed. The deal he had cut with him to get him out of enlisting in the army, but how the plan had gone awry, and…and what Wade had done in the underbrush, and how he’d brought him here, because…because he was safe here. Because he…he’d somehow known that his cousin would know what to do, and might be able to help.

Bart was skeptical at first, but he knew that the smoke would draw out the truth–Wade wouldn’t be able to lie with this much of it in his system, or at least, not lie well. He told Wade to show him back to his car down the path, and when they got there, Jeremiah was still in the backseat, still terrified. As soon as Bart opened the door, Jeremiah tried to kick him, but the he told Wade to help him hold the boy down, got some smoke in Jeremiah’s face, and his face eventually went a little slack as Bart’s special blend entered the pup’s system, giving Bart a chance to…admire him.

After Wade had run off, all those years ago, Bart had…well, he’d been furious at first, and then that fury had subdued to some extent, and he’d been content to just soldier on as best he could, alone, getting the occasional fuck from the boys of the family in the woods when he needed one, but…none of them had really interested him in the way Wade had. Still, that loneliness had only grown, as years had gone by, until in his desperation, Bart decided to…try something incredibly risky, something he would have never imagined doing, had he not hit a level of crushing desperation–he started going into town. Once a week, maybe, he’d get the old truck running, drive the hour or two to get there, and he would walk up and down the streets, looking at the young pups going home after school, admiring them…and then…he chose one, a runty labrador, seventeen or eighteen, who always walked home alone, and one day, Bart struck up a smoky conversation with him…and a few weeks later, the pup ran away from home, ran off into the hills where Bart picked him up, and took him home with him.

It had been…difficult, getting the boy to an agreeable state. With Wade, in their youth, the blends he’d found to work him over were powerful enough to subdue him in the moment, but hadn’t left much room for Bart to manipulate him, often because Wade rarely seemed to recall much of anything from their encounters in the brush. With this new pup, Trent, he had been able to work on his blends, finding ones that were gentler, and more insidious. The pup no longer could remember much of his youth back in town (though he still knew the vague outline of it, and knew that Bart held him here under his control) but it had been enough to suck the resistance from him, enough to let the pup out into the sun to help with the crops at the very least, though almost always supervised. Obviously he had misjudged the pup to some extent, but he was confident that could be remedied. All of this could be remedied. In fact, all of this was, as far as Bart was concerned, turning out to be more of a boon than he could have hoped. Not only had Wade returned him him after all of these years, but he’d brought a most delightful little gift along with him, one far nicer than the mangy pup he’d settled for on the streets of the town a few years ago. Not only was this one handsome, and vigorous, and even a bit plump–he was a hound! Bart had always been a bit disgusted with himself for settling for a labrador, but this–well, perhaps he might have a proper son after all.

“Alright cousin, I think I can definitely help you out with your little problem here,” Bart said, talking to Wade while he felt Jeremiah’s body with his paws, testing it, groping it, seeing how the pup reacted to him. “But don’t think…don’t think this fixes what you did, Wade, when you went and ran off on me.” Bart stood back up and fed Wade some more smoke, feeling him as well, remembering how the he had felt back then…and he couldn’t help himself, he’d thought he’d never get another chance again, but now…

“Strip, Wade, strip, and tell me how much you want my cock in that hole of yours, right here. Tell me how much you’ve missed having your big cousin fuck the daylight outta ya.”

Wade…didn’t want to do this. He’d never wanted to do this, even when he was a teenager…but the words were falling out of his mouth, and he was on his paws next to the car, pants down, Bart behind him, cock sliding free of his sheath, and then sliding into Wade’s hole. It was…hard, to try and focus. His memories kept slipping–was he a pup, or was he older? How old was Bart behind him, anyway? It felt like just yesterday that he’d been fucked by him for the first time, just was raw, just as traumatic, even as his brain and his mouth, at Bart’s prompting, told him how much he loved it, all of it, how much he’d missed this.

Bart finished quickly, something that Wade was thankful for. Then, together, they dragged the incapacitated Jeremiah out of the car and hauled him to the house up the path, and then down into the cellar as well. There, Trent was in a small cage against one wall, still whimpering and whining, and Jeremiah was thrown in with him, Bart telling them both to be good pups, behave, and be quiet. Then, he turned to Wade, told him that the two of them needed to have a chat, and then Wade could be on his way–for the moment.

It was long after sunset by the time Wade finally managed to work his way back to his car, a second load of his cousin’s cum leaking down the inside of his thighs…but things were clearer now, that they’d talked. Wade…knew why he’d come back here–why he’d brought Jeremiah here. He’d…felt so guilty, for so long. He hadn’t known it, he hadn’t even realized it, but the reason he was so deeply unhappy, the reason behind his cynicism, and his self-loathing, and his corruption, was all guilt. Guilt that he’d run away, and left Wade, all those years ago. But Jeremiah was a new start–a peace offering, and thankfully, Bart was more than happy to forgive Wade all of his sins of his youth, so long as Wade agreed to…help him out. And in return? Bart would help him too. He would help Wade too–and give him what he really needed. He needed family. He needed these woods. But mostly, he needed Bart’s smoke, and his cock–everything else would follow from there.

Of Favors and Family (Part 4)

“Well Jeremiah, I’m gonna level with you. You’re a bit late with the blackmail, because your dad is already threatening the same thing, and honestly? His word in my favor is going to count quite a bit more than the words of you and your friends, whether you have a tape or not.”

Jeremiah went a bit pale at that, but didn’t say anything.

“But I’ll tell you what–maybe we can come to a compromise. You won’t have to go to war, and your dad will think you’ve gone to war. Wait a couple of years, come back, honorably discharged, and everything will be just fine.”

“How the hell is that going to work?”

“I grew up around here–still have lots of my family pack living up in the hills around here. They keep to themselves–I’m the only one around here who even knows where they live. You stay with them, and I’ll cover for you here.”

“Bullshit, I’m not going to live in the fucking hills with a bunch of dumb mutts!”

“Well, even if you stay here, you really think your dad is gonna stop trying to get you sent off? You’re going to war one way or another, whether I get you there, or someone else. You’re going to have to give up something, if you don’t want to die in Vietnam–because trust me, I know, when I send a boy off, if I’m sending him to die–and you wouldn’t last very long–and I have seen a great many young men in my office, and my accuracy would haunt you, trust me.”

Jeremiah was weakening, and Wade refused to budge. In the end, he gave in, signed the enlistment form, but didn’t get on the bus with the rest of the recruits at four in the afternoon. Instead, he called his friends, told them he was going into hiding, but to hide the tape in case anything happened to him, and then got in Wade’s car and drove off into the hills.


He’d told him to wait in the car. That had been close to half an hour ago, and Jeremiah was growing more and more suspicious by the minute that all of this was bullshit cooked up by this idiot recruiter to buy himself more time. They’d been driving for hours now, following twisting back roads up hills and back down into valleys, going deeper into the country than Jeremiah had ever been himself, where his nannies had told him when he was younger feral packs of hounds and wolves still roamed around, looking for trouble. Those had all just been stories of course, but there were old families out here–hell, Jeremiah knew he came from a few of them himself. All the hounds in the city could trace themselves back here one way or another, Wade too, he was sure. But why park here, and tell him to sit tight? He had no idea where he was, he had no way to get help. He was starting to wonder if he was the idiot for agreeing to these terms at all.

The sun was setting, but he couldn’t see it behind the ridge. He was already in shadow down here, the light growing dimmer with each passing minute. They hadn’t eaten all day long, and his stomach kept growling louder each time. Could he really do this? Live out here in the sticks? Now that he was here, it just seemed…so damn uncivilized. It…only had to be for a little while. Long enough for his dad to think he really was shipped off, and then he could come back down and just skip town for a while, live with some sympathetic family one state over. Just a couple of months, and then he could have a normal life again.

There was a rustle of brush, and then Wade turned the corner on the dirt road, hauling ass, hat in hand. He slid to a stop by the car, nearly losing his footing, then climbed in, fumbling with his keys.

“Are–what happened?”

“Shut the fuck up, and keep your head down.”

Jeremiah didn’t know what to think of that, until he heard the gunshot in the near distance, followed by a whoop.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Family issues, get your damn head down!”

The car started up, and Wade through it in reverse. A few overall clad cur-looking hounds bounded onto the road, holding rifles and shotguns, and leveled them at the car as it rolled back. Then, Jeremiah finally got down. They were lucky–none of the windows ended up getting busted out. Wade was sure it was meant more to scare him off than actually hurt him–he was, after all, family…just not as close to family as he might have been when he was younger. He’d been hoping for a slightly more sympathetic ear, but the great uncle who had been the local alpha a decade back had passed on, leaving his much more…aggressive son to take the helm of the family. The negotiation had started strong, until the alpha wanted to test the newcomer for the purity of his bloodline, and Wade had made…a misstep or two, and now he was rolling back down the road, night falling, cursing himself for being an idiot.

“What the fuck–are those the fucks you were going to have me stay with?”

“I never said it was going to be a hotel.”

“They were fucking shooting at us!”

“Well, usually they’re a bit more welcoming to family.”

Wade slid the car to a halt, now that he was sure the pack wasn’t following them, and sighed, wondering what to do now. There were a few other pockets of family around that he could check on, but he’d thought this one might be most…accommodating, and now that he’d riled up one part of the family, leaving Jeremiah with another chunk was liable to rekindle old feuds.

“I’m done with this–take me home,” Jeremiah said.

“This is not a deal you can back out off just because you’re a little uncomfortable now.”

“Look at those crazy fucks! I’m not staying with them!”

“Boy, if you go back now, your daddy will ship you off himself.”

“If you don’t take me back, then I’ll make sure that tape sees the light of day, as soon as I get word to my friends.”

“Yeah? And how the fuck do you plan on getting back there?” Wade said.

Jeremiah just glared at him, and then got out of the car. “I’ll fucking walk.”

Wade…had not expected that, and so he didn’t quite know what to say. Walking back was impossible of course–they were a good 20 miles away from town at this point, and he knew Jeremiah hadn’t been paying well enough attention to get back there. He couldn’t risk it though–and he also…well, he might be alright with the cocky brat getting a limb blown off in the jungle, half a world away, but the thought of him getting lost and dying in the woods (and with it being far more directly his own fault) wasn’t something he wanted to live with. Wade got out of the car, and started after him. “Hey–get your ass back here, we had a fucking deal boy.”

“The deal is off, faggot–I’m done. Once I get back there, the whole fucking town is going to know what a pervert you are, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Wade growled, and wished he’d brought his pistol along–not to hurt him, but a shot between his legs would do more to straighten the boy out than pretty much anything else. He felt the cuffs there on his belt…Jeremiah was younger than him, and probably a bit more fit…but he had a feeling he wasn’t particularly used to roughhousing. Wade on the other hand–well he had too much at stake to lose. He charged at Jeremiah’s back and slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground where they rolled about and tussled. Jeremiah was surprised that someone would dare attack him–anyone, and when Wade landed a paw across his face, leaving a nice scratch across his cheek–he just laid there, stunned. Pain, apparently, wasn’t something he was accustomed to. It gave Wade an opening, and he rolled him over and cuffed him on the ground, panting a bit…and his cock hard in his uniform slacks.

“You fucking piece of shit, get these fucking things off of me?”

Wade just watched him squirm there, and fuck, if it wasn’t turning him on something fierce. He’d only cuffed a few boys in the past, usually one’s he’d already broken in, or who were enjoying the treatment themselves, and every time, it had been…a rush. But what could he do? They were in the middle of the woods, night falling…and he wanted that ass, badly. He’d wanted that ass this whole time, but had been restraining himself out of a sense of respect for Jeremiah and his father–well, his respect had run out, and Wade had a feeling a good, rough fuck would put the runt in his place faster than words could anyway.

Jeremiah had managed to push himself up onto his knees, and Wade shoved him back down, snout first, into the dirt, and then got on top of him. Jeremiah began to struggle further, now that he could more…directly feel the older man’s erection, and he started to shout for help.

“Who the hell do you think is going to come save you boy?” Wade said, “Everyone out here is my kin–not yours. They won’t take too kindly to a racket like that–but I’ll be in the car and gone, and it’ll just be you out here, cuffed and alone…and shoot you in the back is the kindest they can be to an outsider like you–trust me. I know all the old stories…”

Wade tugged down Jeremiah’s pants and underwear, running one of his claws up the boy’s crack, feeling him shiver. He undid the fly of his pants, and his cock was already hard and out of its sheath–he thought about warming the boy up…but he didn’t deserve it, and honestly, Wade liked hearing them shout, and beg, and pull away from him. It made it all the more exciting. He pressed the head to Jeremiah’s ring, and felt the boy try and crawl away–he didn’t get far, and Wade bore down, sliding the head in, and then the shaft, shuddering with pleasure as jeremiah started shouting in pain and anger. Wade ground the boy’s snout into the dirt, hard enough to make him shut up, and started fucking him, driving his cock in deeper, inch by inch, with each thrust, panting as he did, feeling how close he was. “Maybe I should just take you home with me boy instead–keep you in my basement. You have a real nice hole, I have to say. Better than Ashton and Dusty–I’ll be sure to tell them that, next time I see them.”

Jeremiah was whining now, just wanting it to be over. It was…less sexy, but probably better. Wade pumped a little faster, pulled out, and nutted all over his ass, tugging his pants back up, watching the cum seep into the fabric in the twilight, before hauling the boy upright, and half dragging him back to the car, and shoving him in the backseat.

The fuck had helped clear his mind, and had also brought back some…memories, of fucking in these woods with his family, usually during family reunions that seemed to be happening less and less as of late. Still, when he’d been a cub, around Jeremiah’s age or a bit younger, he and his cousins had run off regularly to go “exploring”, though they spent most of their time exploring each other some days. But one memory in particular stood out to him–of his third cousin, Bart, once removed (that is, his great great grand aunt’s grandson–one generation older than he was) had caught him and another boy playing…and joined in. He’d…particularly enjoyed fucking Wade that afternoon, but he seemed to have a thing for cubs around that age–around Jeremiah’s age. He’d be pushing sixty at this point, but Wade knew he lived alone, and that he was on generally good terms with the rest of the family. He’d probably be more than willing to keep an eye on Jeremiah, especially if he could get a fuck out of it. Sure, giving Jeremiah to his family as a sex slave was going to…complicate returning him later, but he was low on options, and as far as he was concerned, Jeremiah deserved it.

He put the car in gear, and drove off again–thankfully, Bart’s shack wasn’t too far off from here–assuming he still lived there. Then again, Bart’s family had lived there for ages, though Bart was, as far as Wade could recall, the last of the line. He took a little too firmly to cock, to be able to pick out a wife and bed her for an heir–or maybe that had changed too, in the last few years. Still, he was an old hound, and particularly stubborn, as far as Wade could recall. He doubted much would have changed.

Of Favors and Family: Episode 1 (Part 3)

Jeremiah Hawthorne’s appointment at the recruitment office was for three in the afternoon on Monday, the bus for new recruits left the office each day at four. Wade was in his office, waiting, and the young hound didn’t show up until ten after, which made things a bit easier, really. Both because it was ten less minutes he had to keep him here, and because he felt much better about sending off young men who were late, than those who had the decency to actually be on time for their appointments. Even if he wasn’t under threat from the boy’s father to send him away, he probably would have done so anyway, since he made him wait.

Jeremiah did arrive eventually–it was clear he believed he was here for an exemption, from the way he held himself, the smug smile on his snout. Wade wasn’t going to feel particularly bad about this one at all. “So, can we make this quick? I have a date tonight, and I still need to go home and get ready. What do you need from me?”

“Oh, I’ve handled everything already for you. A bad case of bone spurs. All I need is your signature here, at the bottom,” Wade said, turning around the enlistment form he’d already filled in for the young man, aside from the signature. “One John Hancock, and you’re good to go.”

“John Hancock?”

“Your signature, son, sign on the line.”

“Why do I have to sign anything?”

“You have to attest that you understand the terms of your exemption,” Wade said, hoping he’d just buy a bit of bullshit, and sign his life away to the war already.

“Pa says to never sign anything I haven’t read over.”

“Your Pa helped arrange this last night, Jeremiah. Now hurry up.”

He was suspicious, and Wade supposed he had a right to be so. After all, in his shoes, Wade would have been suspicious too. Beauregard had been pressuring Jeremiah to enlist since before the draft had even started–and now, suddenly, he had changed his mind? The young hound picked up the sheet and started reading it, and Wade sighed. He’d just have to do this the hard way, then.

“Wait a minute, this says, ‘agrees to enlist–” but before he got anything else out, Wade was up, and had him shoved up against the wall. He slipped one handcuff on the young hound’s wrist, and then the other, and shoved him down into a chair by the door. “What the fuck is this shit! I’m not signing a fucking enlistment form! Pa said you were going to get me an exemption. Let me go, you mutt, or I’ll sue you into fucking oblivion!”

“Unfortunately, Jeremiah, your Pa had other plans. He wants you in the army, one way or another–so you have two options. You can either sign this paper here and go willingly, and I’ll pull a few strings, without your daddy knowing, to get you a decent deployment after basic training, or you can throw a fit, and we’ll ship you off with a forged criminal record, which basically means you’re cannon fodder. Either way, you’re going on the bus in an hour, whether you want to or not.”

“Fuck, I knew it was too fucking good to be true…” Jeremiah said, “Look–I know what you like. I’ll suck you off.”

An alarm bell went off in Wade’s mind. The young hound hadn’t said that with the air of desperation they usually used, when they begged for mercy at the end of his dick. He sounded smug–and how the hell did he even know about that, anyway? “That ain’t gonna work, boy.”

“It works for Ashton Everett, and Dusty Willis.”

Friends of his–Wade should have known those two wouldn’t keep their mouths shut, but they were both…sweet, and Wade had a soft spot for sweet, on occasion, especially since they both had to pop back around every couple of weeks to see if their bone spurs had healed up yet. Wade leaned against the desk–even if the boy knew, it wouldn’t help him, and Ashton and Dusty were about to find out just how fast bone spurs could heal. “Sorry. No deal this time. Now, are you gonna sign this paper, or are you gonna go die in a jungle? It doesn’t matter to me one bit, but it’s going to matter a whole lot to you.”

“No, here’s what’s going to happen–you’re going to unlock these cuffs, give me an exemption, or I’m going to take the recording I have of you fucking Dusty’s ass, and have it sent to your superiors. How do you think they’ll feel about that?”

“Boy, don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not bullshitting, sir, if I don’t arrive on time for that date tonight, that tape will be in the mail tomorrow.”

Was he bluffing? Probably, but could Wade really take that risk? Then again, if he did let him loose, Beauregard would have word sent to his superiors anyway about his…dalliances. It didn’t matter what he did–so which was going to be worse for him? The word of the father, who was well regarded in various circles of the military, especially locally? Or a possible tape recording, delivered anonymously, but perhaps with much more damning contents? He was…rather loud when he was with a young man, especially Dusty. He had seemed rather eager last week, and a bit…too descriptive, of what was going on. More so than usual, at least. There was a chance he could talk his way out of either one–after all, he did meet his quotas regularly, and that was all that really mattered as far as the army cared–but Wade had never been one to take chances like this, and Lizzie…she already suspected enough. With word like this getting out, she would likely take off, along with his son. But what could he do? He couldn’t exactly fake Jeremiah getting enlisted into the army…right? Then again, maybe he could.

Of Favors and Family (Part 2)

Having known Beau for quite a long time now, Wade supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by his request–but he’d gotten so used to helping wealthy men of alleged character and patriotism get their prized sons out of the war, that finding one eager to send his son away was a surprise all the same. “With your connections, I’m sure I could find him a spot as an officer,” Wade said, but Beau just laughed.

“Jeremiah couldn’t lead a blind horse to water. Do you want him to murder an entire platoon in the jungle? No–basic infantry, just like I was. If he wants to survive, he’s going to have to prove he has what it takes–though I sincerely doubt he has the guts.”

Wade nodded, “If that’s what you want, the army will always have a need for strong young men,” Beau chuckled a bit on the word strong, but Wade pressed on, “but the draft is going plenty strong–why not just…wait? After all, I can’t force him to sign enlistment papers.”

Beau leered at Wade around his pipe, “I may be old, Wade, but I can still smell a two timing skunk from a mile off. I know about the little deals you have running with some of the young men around these parts–and I even know about those little examinations you do at your office, after hours, with more than a few of them. What is it you say–that you won’t excuse them from service for something like homosexuality without a bit of…evidence first?” he took a sip, “Does your wife know about your taste for teenage whelps, I wonder?”

Wade remained stoic. He wouldn’t give him a denial–if Beau had wanted him found out, he would have been carted away by an MP by now. He wanted something still–though Wade hadn’t given him nearly enough credit, apparently.

“I will admit to…having enjoyed the company of the men on my platoon, on occasion. There’s really no harm in a bit of comradery, when one is without the pleasure of a proper bitch. I can forgive you your…infidelity and perversion, so long as my son is on that bus. Forge his signature–I’ll attest to its validity, even if he denies it. Promise him whatever you’d like–a position as an officer, if you’d like. Hell, examine him if he’s…your type, but my worthless son is going to need a war if he’s ever going to grow up and make something of himself. I’d rather he come back in a box than tarnish this family’s name by running around town, proud of his cowardice. Jeremiah may have been led to believe by his mother that I have listened to her pleas, and am presently persuading you to draw up and document…reasons for him to be exempted from service, even should his number come up in the draft. I will likely allow them both to believe that up until the bus pulls up tomorrow afternoon. All you need to do is keep the rascal in your office until then–and no one will need to know anything about the sordid little things you do on your own time. I’ll even defend your honor as if it were my own. Now, do we have an understanding?”

As far as Wade was concerned, this was easier than what he’d been expecting. Less paperwork, and he’d be one young soldier closer to meeting his quarterly quota. He agreed, and their conversation drifted off to other topics, though as the old hound across from him drank more and more bourbon, he was fairly certain that Beauregard kept sneaking glances down at his crotch. Apparently, someone hadn’t had any comradery in quite a while–perhaps he missed it. Wade wouldn’t have objected–despite what Beauregard had hinted at, Wade didn’t have an interest in young men in particular. Rather, he enjoyed the desperation, and the control he had over them more than anything else. Beauregard was too proud to be a good lay, as handsome as he was. It wouldn’t hurt to keep that information in his back pocket, all the same. They each finished their pipes, and Wade excused himself. Amber Hawthorne and Wade’s wife, Lizzie, were in the dining room gossiping about the business around town when they emerged–they said their goodbyes, and left. Lizzie knew better than to ask about what Wade and Beauregard had discussed, though she had her suspicions of course. Wade didn’t broach the topic–he was cool towards her, as he was always, all the way back to their home, where their son was already tucked in by the babysitter. Just another normal night. Halfway around the world, it was daytime, and young dogs, cats, pigs, and everyone else was fighting for their lives, if not for their country. Wade wondered if it should bother him more, the whole business. Then again, if it hadn’t bothered him yet, he doubted that it would any time soon.

Of Favors and Family – Episode 1 (Part 1)

Some of these characters and settings are created by others, particularly the commissioner of the work.


Dinner had been lovely, but then, dinner was always a pleasure at the Hawthorn residence. Wade always enjoyed his time here–it was so much more pleasant that the rest of his time in town, constantly struggling to fill his quota of new recruits to send off to the jungles in the east. Here, in this beautiful antebellum manor, it was like nothing was wrong at all–no war, no protests, no riots. While he was certain that the Hawthorns kept up with the news, they made no mention of unpleasant topics over dinner conversation. Everything was bright, the conversation easy, the wine flowing. He did his best to not get too caught up in the ease, however–a wealthy man like Mr. Beauregard Hawthorne the Third didn’t invite a man like Wade, a hound mutt with nothing prestigious going for him beyond his position as the county’s army recruiter, which, in a time of war such as this, could open the strangest of doors, at times.

Now, however, dinner was finished, and Wade had retired to the study with the family patriarch for a glass of bourbon and a pipe–and for a chat, Wade assumed. He tugged the cuff of his dress uniform straight–Beauregard Hawthrorn showed him to a firm armchair and poured him a glass of bourbon. They chatted about the town for a bit, and a little about the war. Both of them knew what the chat was really about, however–the draft. This was not the first wealthy family that had welcomed Wade into their home, to plead for him to keep their sons from having to enlist. He found the conversations rather exhausting at this point, only because they had all grown so desperate. And so, he waited for the elderly hound to make his pitch.

“They should have never allowed camera over there. War never looks nice through a lens. I, for one, don’t need a play by play of how many we’ve lost, and where. All we should be hearing is about how we’re winning,” Beauregard said with a huff, blowing a cloud of smoke from his snout as he did. “I’m not surprised, really. Most of the men of character were lost in the great wars, after all. All we have now are cowards who pretend at honor, but wouldn’t know it if it was looking them right in the eye. Cowards, and men looking to make a buck off the young men doing the real work of fighting off the stinking commies. If you ask me, the press is in on it. They’re trying to undermine national morale! They’d be perfectly happy to let a red fleet sail right into San Francisco–they’d broadcast it as a great victory for America!”

He continued on like this for quite some time, and Wade only half listened. He’d heard it all before, after all, the last time he’d been over here for dinner half a year back. Wade generally considered himself to be paid well enough by the army to have patience with men like Beauregard, and he threw in an occasional courteous nod at all the right pauses. It wasn’t polite, after all, to disagree with your guests about that sort of thing in these parts. Civility, after all, seemed to be the only thing holding the country together these days.

Not that Wade was a communist by any stretch. No, Wade was, more than anything else, tired. Tired, jaded by war, sick of sending more and more men away, only for his superiors to demand ever larger quotas from him. It was easier to grow cold to it, to keep your emotions locked up tight. Desperation could be contagious, and he liked his position–besides, he had a family to support. It only bothered him slightly, that the young men he shoved onto the bus each day were only a few years older than his son. More likely than not, he’d get sent off too, just as he had been. War was, more than anything, a business, and Wade was tasked with finding the raw materials to keep the machine humming along, wherever they ended up fighting.

Beau heaved a sigh, and for a moment, Wade wondered if he was finished, and what he might say. Thankfully, he continued, sparing him the effort. “I was one of them, I should say. When I was younger. Idealistic. I thought I knew how things worked. I thought we could all get along. It takes war to understand the world, to understand yourself. I learned that in the world war, as you know.”

Wade nodded. Beau was well known in these parts not only as a fine coonhound of well bred stock (though the rumor that his great parents had been from the same litter was naturally horrible slander, never to be repeated in town, unless you were looking for an invitation to duel) but also as a war hero with a purple heart, and a slight limp to use as an excuse to talk about it. Wade always made sure to thank him for his service, when he saw him. It was both polite, and when he did that, he was less likely to hear the story of his wounding in France yet again. It was dull, mundane, and Wade had heard of far worse injuries from more capable storytellers.

“I want my son to learn it too. He has, so far, refused to enlist, and so I fear I am forced to use…rather extreme measures. I want him on a bus to boot camp tomorrow, Wade, I honestly don’t care if you hogtie him and throw him in with the luggage.”