Wolfish Lust

---

Broken and Taken Against His Will

The wolves faced off against one another on the open plateau, muzzles rippling as their black lips pulled back to reveal their teeth - fangs that could tear through flesh and crunch through bone, all with the power of the jaws behind them. And yet there was no other option for Blackfang, the dominant, alpha male, though he had been in control of the pack for some time already. Several years, in fact. And yet his muzzle had grown grey, over the years of the wolves' long lives, living longer than most - simply because he was savvier than most others, his wariness keeping him out of harm's way.

His dark grey fur was layered through with black and white, though the peppery flecks of age could be seen all over his body, if another wolf knew how to look for them. He levelled his muzzle at his challenger, a younger, stronger male who knew and understood that the two of them were not an even match-up, though it was not so easy for Blackfang to concede defeat. He had cared for his pack for so many years already that he could not bear to step away from them, even though he was already in his thirties.

No one knew how long their kind of wolf could live for, truth be told. The oldest that anyone knew of was in their fifties, a wise wolfess that spoke of fortunes and of times long gone by, passing on her wisdom to the younger generations. Usually, wolves succumbed to the hardships of the wild, despite their intelligent status, similar to Dire wolves, but their own sub-species altogether that cut through all the rest.

Behemoth snarled, lowering his head, the lighter-coloured wolf more light grey and white than any other shade, his teeth showing as they glistened with saliva. If Blackfang had been younger and in good health, it might have well been an even match-up, for the two wolves were of fairly equal size, though Blackfang already knew that his right hind leg was weaker, that the injury he had sustained from a red deer had never truly healed. Not the way that a wolf that was going to survive wanted it to, anyway.

Still, he would fight. Still, he would uphold his dignity. All for his pack. Always for his pack.

"Give up, Blackfang," Behemoth snarled. "You're never going to win."

The dark wolf's eyes gleamed. Behemoth didn't need to know what he had in mind. For he had not lived for as long as he had without learning a few tricks along the way. The youngster wouldn't know what had hit him.

"Is that so?" He said levelly, moonlight glinting off his coat, still shiny, in a small way, with health that remained. "I would not consider myself as bold as you, young Behemoth...but perhaps you know something I do not?"

He smiled, though it was a conniving kind of smile, the kind of smile that all wolves gave and one that never reached their eyes. For a smile to a wolf was a threat, not a blessing. If they wanted to show softness and affection, well... That would come in the softness and lightness of their tails, how they wagged them back and forth. Most certainly not from any facial expression that exposed their teeth and drew further attention to their jaws.

Behemoth seemed to falter at that, but Blackfang was canny enough to hide his smirk from the younger wolf. It did not do to reveal what he held close to his chest, hiding what he had in store. Blackfang leaned more heavily onto his good hind leg, exaggerating his limp, and, of course, Behemoth's eyes went straight for it.

He was too easy to trick. Though that was where Blackfang would catch him, as he would a rabbit. Hope, warm and tantalising, bloomed in the wolf's chest. Perhaps, there was still a chance yet.

Or maybe Blackfang was only concerned, even then, with preserving his dignity. Maybe he knew, even then. But only the fight would tell with the moon shining down, the stars high in the sky, silent watchers to their fight.

Some of the pack was there, others were not. They kept back from the other two wolves on the plateau pine trees and other coniferous trees framing the higher ground, sweeping up the mountainous slopes. Below them, off a steep cliff, was a river, curling back and forth lazily through the landscape, though, for the wolves, it was teaming with fish. Until the bears came back, they would feed well.

But the alpha and the challenger saw and heard none of that, moving in an instant. Behemoth took the bait and lunged for Blackfang's injured leg, believing him to be too slow to get out of the way - yet Blackfang was too quick for him. Whipping around, he met the surprised wolf jaw for jaw, gnashing and snarling, fur flying, using their forepaws as much as their jaws as they grappled.

Snarls and growls and strangled yelps coursed between them, neither wolf getting the upper paw as they tussled furiously in a ball of fur and flesh, twisting over one another. Blackfang got Behemoth down on the ground at one point, briefly pinned on his back, yet he was weary already, as if there was something behind him, pulling him back, dragging him down.

It was inevitable. And, still, he ignored it, pressing the attack even as Behemoth kicked him off, winding him.

"Give up, old wolf!" Behemoth growled, his head lowered dangerously, ears pinned, eyes intent with one thing and one thing alone. "There is no place for you here anymore!"

And yet Blackfang still stood tall and strong, bearing down against Behemoth, forcing him back. He snarled and snapped, teeth flashing in the air, though he did not give in, not so easily, not when he knew that his alpha was weakened. For Blackfang could not even hide that from Behemoth or the rest of the pack, everyone knowing that he was no longer the strong, alpha wolf that he had been in his youth.

A snarl and a whimper, well... They told things, they told of pain, the snap of it in the back of Blackfang's mind, though he had to be strong. He had to follow the whipping lines of Behemoth's body, fur flying, teeth gnashing, Behemoth snapping at him, teeth catching his leg but not slicing into bone.

That was a close one, but Blackfang was getting slower and slower, the wolf fading fast. Oh, but he held on, oh, but he tried to be proud. He needed to fight back, but it was only ever going to end one way, as much as the wolf lied to himself.

Maybe that was what he needed. Even as he was suddenly flying head over paws, his tail curling around him, not knowing what he was doing, how he had gotten there. Dimly, he was aware that Behemoth had slammed into him, but there was only so much he could do, not even managing to right himself.

One of his pack mates gasped on the perimeter. Yet, even though they had loved him and knew that he had protected them, they would not do anything. They could not do anything when the laws of the pack were set, though the smallest note they could make was to plead with Behemoth to spare their past leader, to not kill him right there and then but to give him a chance.

Blackfang groaned, but he couldn't do anything. He was down, he was trapped, the other wolf with his teeth at his throat, pinning him down. Deliberately, surely, Behemoth stepped on his injured leg, further reminding him of the predicament of his position, and Blackfang's heart sank.

Just like that, it was over. Just like that, he was at the end of his time at the head of the pack. Just like that, there was nothing more he could do.

He had postured and he had tried and, still, age had caught up to him in the end. He still wanted to flee, to try to live out what days he had left, but there was nothing that he could do to get that. There was no way for him to move from the other wolf, frozen in place, teeth pressing into the fur of his neck, closing his eyes.

"I yield," Blackfang growled. "Do as you will. You have won the pack."

The pack that was watching muttered and murmured amongst one another. They knew what it meant and he hoped that they would not take too much sadness onto their own heads. They knew that he would not have been at the head of the pack forever, even though he had to step aside for a younger, more capable wolf in the end. It still made him pang as if homesick for something that he didn't understand, but maybe that was just the loss of his pack.

The pack murmured. He succumbed. Behemoth's snarl deepened, a smirk on his muzzle.

Standing over his fallen alpha, becoming the alpha of the pack that roamed far and wide, Behemoth grinned ferally, exposing his teeth.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Blackfang..." He mocked, standing over Blackfang, astride him as if he was pinning him down. "You reek of defeat."

His head pounded so hard that Blackfang did not even raise his head from the ground. He couldn't, simply couldn't, knowing that he needed to move and yet... There was nowhere for him to go. He had been felled and the weight of his old bones and the years that he had lived weighed more heavily on the elderly wolf than ever before. Blood seeped between his teeth, though he didn't even have the presence of mind to spit it out, what with his head ringing as it was.

But he did feel the hot, acrid wetness seeping into his fur. Behemoth lifted a leg, marking him, urinating on him. Blackfang would have reeled and twisted away if he had had the ability to do so, yet a well-placed hind paw of Behemoth's on his injured leg aptly pinned him in place, ensuring that the younger wolf used as little energy there as possible. It was so clever of him, allowing Behemoth to maintain his position of superiority with great ease, that Blackfang would have been impressed with him, if he had not been the one on the bottom.

End preview.

_ _

_ _

_ _

_ _

_ _

Thank you for reading! This story is available to purchase, worldwide, via Smashwords and Commiss.io!

Smashwords:https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1164662

Commiss.io:https://commiss.io/listings/5b3E

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this story, please take a look at my website, where similar stories are listed by kink!

https://alismitsy.wordpress.com/

All new releases will be announced via my Twitter account!

@alismitsy

I am also available for custom stories, tailored to your preferred nuances and characters. Please e-mail the following address for further information.

arianmabe@gmail.com

If you liked this story, you may also enjoy...

Hypnotised: Forced to Fuck

Pierre is just a lemur, but he's been in the gay game a long time and knows just how to get what he wants. That doesn't make him a good guy, no - not by any means. He just wants what he can't have easily and, well, he's found a very, very easy way to get sex, to get exactly what he wants.

A slut down on their knees, sucking... Well, that was just a start. Bent over, pinned to the wall, usually someone bigger than him, yeah. Someone that might have wanted to top him otherwise, all when the lemur was a much better dominator over someone that was hypnotised.

And what better way could there be to fuck than with someone completely broken to his will, hm? Pierre certainly didn't see that as a bad thing and, well, none of the victims that he had hypnotised and forced were in a state to come back to him and complain. He made sure of that when he wrapped up the hypnosis too.

Always covering his tracks so that he could come back another night to play again...

Note: this story contains non-consensual erotica between adult characters and is intended for fictional, fantasy purposes only.

Rough Play from the Stallion: Forced by an Anthro Stud

Cal didn't think that things could go so wrong so quickly... One minute he'd been staring at and drooling over the big, muscled anthro stud horse, so much stronger than a weak, little human like him, and the next, well...

It's all gone wrong.

Around the back of the barn, he finds himself forced and shoved down to the ground, a huge, sweaty body on top of him, covering his form as if he is so small and insignificant that there was nothing about him that could have caught the stallion's attention before. He fights back, but he is forced, a huge, fat length that is really too much for him, burrowing deep up inside his backside.

He has to fight back, has to try to be stronger, but there's only so much he can do, not as he is pinned, held down. The horse is so much larger than him, fingers digging into his shoulders, not caring for his comfort - but would any anthro force him against his will if they cared one bit about that at all?

In the dim light of the moon around the back of the barn, his body is sodomised as his cries go nowhere...

Author's note: this story contains non-consensual erotica in a fantasy context between a human man and an anthro stallion.

Centaur Stallion Gangbang: Forced Against His Will

Otis is a stallion anthro, though his life has changed forever. Captured by rogue centaur stallions, intent only on pillaging, taking, dominating more territory, he has been imprisoned, locked away in an underground dungeon, praying for the day of his release.

Yet when Otis slips his guards and races for freedom, stumbling through the thick brush of the forest, the centaurs come down on him with the power of the herd, whooping and hollering, chasing him, hunting him.

There's no escape, yet the stallion must try still, must always try. It's all he can do, all he will do, gasping and heaving, even as they catch him all over again, pinning him down for his abuse.

For there is no trial when it comes to those under the centaurs' hooves, dominated, forced, held down to be taken brutally, in whichever hole is more accessible. No one cares for Otis, only for what he and his body can do to them.

Author's note: this story contains non-consensual erotica between a stallion anthro and a gang of centaurs, intended for fictional and fantasy purposes only.

A Dragon's Plunder: Violated Against His Will

Who knew that a simple hike could go oh so very wrong so quickly? A seasoned hiker, Glyn thinks he knows everything that's out there - particularly in the land that is practically in his own back yard. But one man is about to be knocked down a peg or two when a beast from above takes it upon itself to claim the male for his very own...

Please note that this story contains gay, non-consensual, fantasy erotica between a human male and a dragon.