Chapter 1: The Scent of Prey
The Appalachian wilderness was a cathedral of raw, untamed beauty, and Wolfrun was its most primal predator. His lean, muscled frame cut through the undergrowth, claws sharp enough to rend flesh, eyes glinting with a feral hunger. His cock, thick and veined, swung heavy between his thighs, already hard from the thrill of the hunt. He didn’t bother tucking it away after marking the trees with his piss, letting it bob and stiffen with each powerful stride, smacking against his taut belly. But he wouldn’t touch it—not yet. Not until he’d found a tight, trembling boy-pup to bury his load into. A load wasted was a sin, his father had growled into his young ears, and Wolfrun lived by that creed.
The air was thick with summer heat, carrying the faint, intoxicating scent of human in heat. It drove him wild, his nostrils flaring, his prick throbbing harder with every step, dripping pre-cum onto the leaves below. He had to grip his cockhead briefly, kneading his heavy balls to keep from blowing too soon. The hunt was everything. In town, boy-cunny came cheap, but out here? Out here, it was raw, real, a conquest. These mountains were crawling with free-range pups, descendants of rogue humans who’d fled the cities after the Takeover, their soft, hairless bodies begging for a wolf’s knot to stretch and breed them as nature intended.
His nose led him to a jagged cleft in the rock above the treeline, a cave like a stone pussy waiting to be claimed. Inside, curled in the dim light, was his prize—a boy, young, blond, blue-eyed, and beautiful, though gaunt with hunger. His belly swelled unnaturally, and as Wolfrun nudged him with the barrel of his gun, milk leaked from the boy’s small, swollen tits. A rough kick jolted the pup awake, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. Wolfrun grinned, setting the gun aside and hefting his massive cock, a two-hander, toward the trembling figure.
“Look at you, little runt,” Wolfrun growled, his voice a low, predatory rumble. “Starving for somethin’, ain’t ya? Bet you’re aching for a real wolf to feed that pretty mouth.”
The boy whimpered, but his instincts—bred into him over generations—drove him forward, nuzzling at Wolfrun’s musky hardness, seeking nourishment. “That’s it, pup,” Wolfrun snarled, shoving his cock into the boy’s parched throat, bullying it open with brutal thrusts. “Take it deep. You were made for this.”
The slick warmth, the fluttering fragility of the boy’s throat, nearly pushed Wolfrun over the edge. But he wasn’t done—not by a long shot. “Not yet, sweet thing,” he rasped, yanking his dripping cock free before the pup could get his fill. “I didn’t trek all this way for a blowjob. I’m here for that tight little ass of yours.”
The boy whined, tears streaking down his pale cheeks, but Wolfrun didn’t care. He splayed the pup’s twig-thin legs apart, his red, rending length poised at the impossibly tight entrance. “Gonna make you mine,” he muttered, pushing in, feeling the wet heat envelop him. The boy yelped, his frail body shuddering under the invasion, but Wolfrun only grinned wider. “Fuck, you’re tighter than I thought. But I’ll stretch that pussy out good.”
He thrust harder, panting with the effort, sweat beading on his brow as he drove deeper, the boy’s cries echoing off the cave walls. The power, the control, the way the pup’s body bent to his will—it was intoxicating. And then, a sudden gush of warmth around his cock, not blood, but something else. Wolfrun looked down, his eyes widening with savage delight. “Holy shit, I fucked you so hard your water broke. You’re givin’ birth, pup, right on my dick.”
The thought sent a jolt through him, his hips snapping forward with renewed ferocity, ready to unleash everything he had into that trembling, dripping hole. He was on the edge, his balls tightening, his growl building to a roar as he prepared to cum harder than he ever had before.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.