"Never fight fair with a stranger, boy. You'll never get out of the jungle that way."
(Arthur Miller)

Chase lay, wondering well into the night, after he'd finished his pleasurable, nightly masturbation of his stiff cock and before settling down to sleep, who it was, if anyone, watching him during the afternoon swim at the Remote Lake beach. He thought he saw someone on the balcony of the large private lodge, but because of the angle of the sun he was unable to verify it. Maybe, just maybe, there was no one at all, but Chase wasn't entirely satisfied that was the case. His intuition and senses didn't very often fail him. Given his thoughts on the matter, he also remembered the pleasure of being on Jessie's land on Remote Lake. Something about the lake drew him, gave him a feeling of safety, security, and peacefulness, much like where they now lived with "Uncle Eric" and "Uncle Evan," whom he now referred to with the affectionate terms.

The lake was crystal clear, relatively large, remotely located in the midst of public forest land, and a natural area for creatures like himself and his brothers. Granted, there are plenty of other lakes in Minnesota, after all it is known as the "Land of 10,000 Lakes," and he was certain he'd see others just as attractive and perhaps more spectacular, but for some reason, this particular lake was the one he wished to settle on. Uncle Evan mentioned there was no other property available for sale on the lake since it was surrounded by public forest land, except for the property the private lodge was on, but he might hope Jessie would sell him a small portion with lake access sometime in the future. After all, Jessie now had six hundred eighty acres instead of the six hundred forty acres he thought there was when Uncle Evan and Uncle Eric purchased it.

Chase opted out from traveling to Duluth with Eric and Evan and his brothers to take care of some legal business concerning the Remote Lake property, choosing, instead, to stay home and take care of the housework and mow the lawn. Eric promised, when they returned, they'd go to the Birch for a Friday fish fry. He reflected, as he cleaned the bathroom on the second floor, made a quick check of the bedrooms noting they needed little care, and swept the hallway, how quickly he'd adapted to living in this house with Eric and Evan. His life in Louisiana was over and life beginning anew here. There was much to become acclimated to, but it held every possibility of a good life.

The downstairs bathroom and the kitchen was next on his list. Again, not much was needed since overall, Eric, Evan, and his brothers were neat and tidy. The kitchen and dining room are cleaned up after every meal. The living room needed to be vacuumed since every time a shifter, if in wolf shape in the house, left wisps of wolf fur about; not enough to be annoying, but difficult to explain to outsiders since Eric and Evan didn't have a dog- three Lycanthropes, yes, but no dog.

The garden tractor, with the mower deck attached, made mowing the large lawn and sides of the lane leading to the house and other buildings, relatively easy. It did take time and the afternoon sun was hot, leading Chase to shed his shirt. After he finished and put the tractor away, he decided he'd go for a swim to cool off and cleanse away the dirt and grass clippings he'd collected and became attached to his sweaty body. Walking down to the beach, he was beginning to shed his shoes, socks, and pants when the sound of a vehicle coming down the drive prompted him to stop, deciding if it was a stranger the sight of his nakedness might not be appealing, unless it was the right type of human who wouldn't mind having a taste or a quick feel.

Chase recognized the voices of Chad and Mike, heard the vehicle doors slam, and shouted to them he was down at the beach. There was no doubt in his mind they wouldn't hear him, after all they were Lycans, weren't they? The two handsome young men rounded the house, all smiles and waved a greeting to him.

How fortunate they were, he thought, to have found each other and to be so, so in love. Up until his move to Kabetogama, he didn't know there was such a creature as a gay Lycanthrope. He'd never encountered one in the Deep South. Granted, there were plenty of gay humans wandering around, especially New Orleans during the Mardi Gras. Hell, they were parading almost naked, around town, sucking each other and once, he walked into a crowd and found one guy fucking another and those around them recording the action. He damned near spewed in his jeans on the spot. But here, in Kabetogama, at least in this part of the woods, there were more than just a few gay werewolves; apparently almost an entire pack.

His dad and mom said he'd know by the very scent he picked up, who his mate would be. That was the way it was with them and they thought it'd be for him as well. However, they were assuming he'd be mated with a female. So far, nothing he smelled indicated the right person to be his mate was anywhere near. All he'd ever scented before was human sweaty crotches, dried and fresh cum, male colognes, and ass cracks needing a good scrubbing. Humans, to this point, really didn't appeal to him. He doubted his parents even knew he was queer. He thought maybe his Grandmother Le Compte knew since she sent them up here to live with a gay cousin and his husband. She had to know of the gay members of the Averill Creek Pack, didn't she?

"Getting ready for a swim. I finished the lawn and I'm dirty and I stink," he replied pulling off the rest of his clothes.

"Jesus, you've got quite a cock," exclaimed Chad, ogling the swinging piece of man meat dangling down from Chase's crotch.

"Not so bad yourself," Chased laughed as he watched Mike and Chad strip off their clothes.

The three of them swam and cooled off in the lake water and after a few minutes, retreated to the shore where the warm, direct rays of the sun dried their naked bodies.

"Uncle Eric asked Jessie if your youngest brother, Jacques, could have his first shift at his place," Mike said. "Next weekend probably?"

"Yeah, it's a full moon that weekend and by the hair forming around Jacques cock, I think that'll be it. He's sort of acting 'wolfy' if you know what I mean, as well."

Mike and Chad nodded their understanding. They'd both experienced the same sensations of unrest, the pacing, the anxiety, and excitement before their first shifts. Mike informed Chase it'd be fine and plan on spending the weekend.

"Most of the Pack members will be there to support him, but there's some that work and may only be in and out for a short run."

Hearing Mike say it, gave impetus to Chase's excitement for Jacques facing his first shift. Jacques wouldn't be alone, only in the presence of his brothers, to face and suffer those oft times painful body structure changes associated with bones lengthening, limbs changing in functions, teeth transforming from human to werewolf, and the stretching and strengthening of muscles to power his new body. It'd take a few minutes, after the shift, for him to learn to walk and run on all fours, drink water by lapping with his tongue, become accustomed to a fur covered body, and not being able to do human things, those habits he'd grown used to, such as howling and growling instead of speaking, using words.

Chase found it most difficult, at first, to lose the ability to speak as a human, but found, as time progressed, it was a definite advantage. He could communicate with other werewolves while in the midst of humans through telecommunication without them being aware he was doing so. He could also "speak" to other werewolves, while in wolf form, in the same manner. He and his brothers also had the advantage of being fluent in Cajun-French so they could speak via telecommunication, in French and the other Lycans could hear, but not understand what they were talking about. Thus, growling and howling, were only some of the manifestations making him wolf and not human. It was all in the getting used to.

Chase still didn't know how the Averill Creek Pack was able to block out their communication with each other from other Lycans. He hoped Jessie or Jase or Tyler would teach his brothers and him how to do it. He had to be patient; after all he'd only been here a week or so and things were changing fast.

The Birch parking lot was almost full when they arrived for "Friday Night Fish Fry –AYCE," as it was advertised on the lighted sign by the entrance to the Resort. The main dining room was just as crowded with waiters, waitresses, and bus boys hustling about trying to service the customers. Chase glanced to one side of the dining room and looked through a wide door leading to "The Alehouse," the bar attached to The Birch, noting it was just as full. Jase, behind the bar, gave him a smile and a wave.

"Yep; that's why we make reservations ahead of time. Your Uncle Eric and I have the fish fry here on a regular basis. If we didn't have reservations, it could be long wait for a table. Of course the wait fills the bar with customers and it makes money from drink sales," Evan laughed.

"Where's Gaige?" Henri enquired, wondering if the young boy was home, on the premises, or elsewhere.

"Home with Poppa Tyler. We worked it so one of us will be home with him while the other two work. He's all excited because his 'cousin' Patrick is going to move in with us this weekend."

Evan and Eric each ordered a mixed drink and the Landry Brothers ordered soda. They enjoyed their pre-meal libation while waiting for the busy kitchen to reach their order and prepare it. Chase was amazed at the crowd, the efficiency of the wait staff, and the overall organization. The dining room, the kitchen, and the bar worked together like a well-oiled machine, courteously, quickly, and efficiently serving their customers.

"It goes like this until closing," Eric remarked, noticing Chase observing the activity. "Years of successful operation and experience, plus the excellent food, are big factors. You'll note there are also a couple of rooms off to the side the Suttons use for private parties," waving a finger in the direction of a couple of doors toward the other side of the dining room.

A couple of waiters and bus boys were hustling in and out of the room carrying food, dishes, and drinks. Chase learned the private rooms are available for use, for a fee, and the clients are responsible for a minimum twenty percent tip for the wait staff and an expected nice tip for the kitchen staff as well. According to Evan, a good waiter at The Birch could earn anywhere from two hundred to three hundred dollars a night on weekends during the tourist season. The jobs are heavily sought after, but only a few are open each year since the same summer staff returns year after year.

Jessie served their dinners and Chase was almost flummoxed by the large platter of fish, French fries, and sides of Cole slaw delivered to each of them. A hot, fresh roll, Tartar sauce, and shrimp sauce, along with the ketchup already on the table, rounded out the meal. His brothers watched with interest as Chase took a tentative bite of the fish, tasting it carefully.

Chase explained they generally ate seafood, including shellfish such as oysters, clams, and mussels. The fresh water fish they ate consisted mainly of bream or catfish. The catfish was also served with hush puppies.

During the meal, Chase noticed, above the smell of the food in front of him, a strong, distinctive scent, not food, drifting occasionally around in the dining room. It was a scent heightening certain reactions from him. His nose twitched searching for the source of the scent; his eyes roamed the room, and his cock stiffened. The scent attracted him, acted like an airborne aphrodisiac, bring him to a full, throbbing, and painfully confined by his jeans, cock-stand. If he'd been at home, he'd have dropped his pants, whipped his dick out, and given it a proper drubbing.

The odor seemed to fade, come on strong, and fade again, almost as if contained, wafting forth when the container, or a door was opened, such as at the moment when the door to the room where the private party was being held. He saw a young woman and a girl, perhaps Henri's age, emerge and walk toward the restrooms. The woman was small, petite, almost dainty, dark hair and dark eyes like the girl, and definitely a beauty, if you appreciated gorgeous woman, which Chase definitely did not. They had to pass their table to do so and he noticed Henri squirm, his eyes sort of dilated, and then become sharper focused on the pair.

"What's up?" he asked Henri, using French since there were at least two other Lycans on the premises.

"That girl," Henri answered. "Isn't she the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? Can't you just smell how wonderful she is? "Nope, but I don't particularly like girls, remember?"

"Not a fucking clue, but somehow we'll find out. Hate to have you wander around with a bad case of blue balls."

As the two females entered the private room, a young teen male exited and headed toward the restroom. He started to walk by Chase's table, hesitated for a moment, and looked directly at Chase, as if recognizing him. The teen bore a strong resemblance to the woman and girl who'd passed by earlier and returned to the private dining room. He was a stunner in Chase's eyes, just as small as the woman and girl, but oh so sexy, Chase thought.

Chase recognized the distinct scent tantalizing him all evening, realizing it came from the young teen. The scent acted like a siren call to his cock, a lustful shiver to his entire body, urging him to possess this teen, allowing no one else to access him, to claim him as his own. Chase thought if his cock got any stiffer, it'd rip the leg out of his pants. He remembered his father's words concerning finding his mate and he was certain this young man was destined to be his mate, even though he was human.

His reaction didn't go unnoticed by Henri, who felt he just had to return the comments made to him earlier.

"What's up?" he asked Chase. "That boy make you hard as the Rocky Mountains? Bet you'd love to fuck that one wouldn't you?" and laughed.

Chase quickly excused himself from the table, claiming the need to go to the restroom after he saw the young man enter it.

David was already standing at the urinal when Chase entered. At first David was hesitant to look at Chase. He'd recognized him sitting at the table as the young, hung, handsome teen who drove the SUV up to the gate at home and swam naked on the beach opposite the lodge. His own stiff cock would do little to measure up to the teen who now took a stance next to him in front of another urinal.

Although there was a small metal partition separating the two, it didn't take much for Chase to peer over the top for a better look at the cute young man. The young man noticed Chase staring at him, turned his body enough for Chase to get a good view of his five inch, very stiff cock, pointing almost straight up out of his pants.

The young man was dark haired, dark eyed, light in complexion, small in stature, maybe five foot three or five foot five or so, at least four or five inches shorter than Chase, delicate in appearance, slim hipped, bright smile, eyes sparkling like a lake in the sunlight and the most adorable, huggable, kissable, and fuckable boy Chase ever saw in his life.

Chase smiled, commenting on the hard penis twitching slightly from the small teens pants, "Me too," and fished his own stiff rod from his jeans and pointing it toward the urinal. "Care to take a peek?"

He turned, the young man looked around the partition, and said "WOW!" before turning back.

Before David could answer, the restroom door burst open and a gruff voice growled, "Hurry up, you little fag, we're getting ready to leave. The old man would do what he said if you try to grab a fast fuck from this northwoods hick."

The other man, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five years old, doubled up his fists and advanced toward David.

A quick stuff of his now flaccid penis back into his britches and Chase quickly came between them.

"I don't think what you intend to do is a good idea," Chase said calmly sending a message to Henri, in French, to give him a hand with some trouble in the restroom.

The aggressive young man, smiled diabolically; "Back away asshole, or you'll have your teeth for dessert."

Henri suddenly excused himself from the table, after cautioning Jacques to stay put, and headed for the men's restroom. Henri barely made it inside the door of the men's room when Evan remarked to Eric, "Must be a bad case of either influenza or nephrites or something going around. I see Scott and Franklin Campbell heading for the men's room as well."

Evan cast a questioning glance at Eric, almost as if he was wondering if his mate was beginning to suffer the beginning stages of dementia.

Jacques had no idea what was happening, but wasn't very happy about not being included and told to wait at the table.

"Are you certain about that?" asked Henri, entering the men's room, of the chap who was threatening his brother.

"Stay out of this," growled the man. "Take a piss outside if you have to go so fucking bad."

Chase saw Scott Campbell and another man he didn't know standing just inside the doorway.

"Getting a bit crowded for a good fight," snickered Chase taunting the man. "Besides, I think you're outnumbered. Look around and see, if you can count without using your fingers and toes."

"I'm the little shit's brother and this is a family affair," the man announced, pointing at David. Marcus's voice betrayed his concern and fear, as he looked around the small room.

"Half-brother," snapped David, "and not necessarily the best half," shrugging his shoulders deciding to end the confrontation. He looked at the gathered teens and men in the restroom. Their faces and eyes revealed a calm, cold, almost feral, repressed deadly aggression, ready to manifest in an attack; a most vicious attack against Marcus. Marcus wouldn't stand a chance and could, as he imagined, be ripped to shreds. He was outnumbered and out classed. The last thing David wanted was a fight in the restroom, worried what would happen to his mother and sister as a result. It was a risk he was unwilling, albeit under other circumstances he might welcome, to take at this time and place.

A glance at Marcus revealed the depth of his fear as well. Small beads of sweat were beginning to pop out on his upper lip, a clear sign he saw himself outnumbered and the only way out would be drastic. Marcus was armed with a small pistol secured in an ankle holster and would use it if really cornered, especially if he thought it was his life or theirs. Marcus was really chicken shit, but could kill without remorse when the odds were in his favor. A true bully, strong until challenged and whupped.

Marcus was angry when he left with David, but more at the group assembled who challenged him rather than at David. David knew Marcus was more upset with himself. He hated being beat at anything, much like their grandfather, and just as cold-blooded.

Scott explained he and his family were in the dining room for a fish fry celebrating Franklin's return home. Franklin was on an extended business trip and, completing his business, came home for a little R&R.

"In case you really want to know," Scott continued, "we both speak French since Dad's business was located in Canada for a while."

Chase and Henri were introduced to Franklin. Franklin and Scott followed them to their table to meet Jacques. Chase assumed they already knew Eric and Evan. Eric and Evan were pleased to see Franklin and welcomed him home, although they didn't pursue the subject any further. Instead they inquired if there's been a problem in the restroom.

"God, you guys never change, do you?" Franklin replied with a laugh. "It was a minor problem quickly resolved and, I might add, had nothing to do with plumbing, plunging, or nuts needing tightening."

The Landry Boys took to Franklin right away as he visited with them. He was quiet, seemed to be patient, and genuinely interested as they explained how they came to live with Eric and Evan. The boys delivered the sanitized version concerning the circumstances of their parent's death. They assumed he'd already met Gaige, since Franklin described him as "cute as bug and smart as hell."

Franklin and Scott rejoined their table on the other side of the dining room. The door to the private dining room opened and two rather stern and alert men, wearing light-weight jackets, stepped out, scanning the room quickly but carefully, before giving a nod to those inside. An older gentleman, Marcus, the woman and the girl, David, and another man walked out into the dining room.

"Those three outriders look like body guards to me," muttered Eric to no one in particular.

"Perhaps they are," Evan countered, thoughtfully. He grew increasingly concerned, aware the older gentleman was the older man in the golf cart each time Eric and he visited their new property and the young man, not the teen, perhaps mid-twenties, was with him each time.

"That's David," whispered Chase to Evan, "he's the small one; the other one is his half-brother Marcus. He's a real asshole. I'd bet the other three men are the guards David mentioned to me."

Evan didn't ask how Chase knew all of this, his mind was busy sorting through many, many years of memory finally settling on who the older gentleman's name was. Chase's comments about the younger man's name and what an asshole he was, rang a clarion bell in his head and he remembered the name- Marcello Giordano. Marcello was the temporary roommate they'd had in college. His demeanor hadn't changed much from the look on his face and the way he walked. He appeared just as surly, mean, and as much of a bully as he had many years ago, and just as dangerous. Evan doubted if Marcello would even remember who he was since they all tried to avoid him. Besides he only lived with them a semester.

Marcello hesitated when he saw Evan, scrutinized Evan's face, and remembered and remembered, but couldn't think of his name, as if he really cared. "Fucking hell," he thought, "where the hell did that queer bastard come from?"

There was no way, those many years ago, he'd live with a bunch of fucking queers. That's the reason he moved out. This guy, the one seated at the table with the three boys and a man about his age, seemed to be the worst of the bunch, always running around naked from the waist down or bent over taking a cock up his ass. Marcello thought it sinful and disgusting, knowing in his own mind why the entire population of Sodom and Gomorrah were turned to pillars of salt in the Bible. "Bunch of fucking Sodomites," he thought looking at the group at the table. Of course he saw nothing wrong, sinful, or illegal with fucking a prepubescent girl whose pussy was hair free and barely able to accommodate his cock. That's what they were for, he figured, fucking for pleasure.

The only problem he saw with it, was fucking someone that young produces no offspring and Marcello needed heirs to help grow and eventually inherit his business and fortune, a fortune based on gambling, prostitution, extortion, human trafficking, drugs, and any other profitable, illegal venture, enforcing it all with murder, when needed or desired. So, he married Delores, who, after popping Demarco from her cunt, died within five years, producing no more children.

Demarco loved the little ones just as much as Marcello, but married Maria Ricca and they had Marcus. Maria died when Marcus was seven. Demarco caught her fucking a young, black street kid, hung like a horse and buried balls deep in her when Demarco slit his throat; while he was still bleeding out, slit Maria's as well. They were found in a burned out vehicle several days later. The coroner determined the deaths were accidental caused by inattentive driving.

Marcello sighed to himself as he continued to walk toward the supper club entrance. The second time Demarco married, this time to Rebecca Flynn, she was young, but old enough to breed- barely! She survived Demarco, who died on a business trip to Georgia, producing David, now sixteen and queer as hell, and Lindsey, fourteen, cute as shit but untouchable by his standards or Marcus since it was incest and that was a sin.

Marcus loved fucking the young girls as well and on occasion would locate one or two for both to enjoy. Marcello might be old, he thought, but arthritis doesn't always settle in the joints and make them stiff.

Lindsey smiled at Henri as she walked by, ran her tongue seductively over her lips, and winked. Her actions were akin to tooting on Henri's horn, bringing it to concert position, up and ready to play.

David didn't look at Chase, instead keeping his head down as he walked past. He didn't want to attract his grandfather's attention and bring his wrath down on both of them. Chase would meet the same fate as his previous boyfriends. Discreetly, David dropped a small piece of paper near the table.

It didn't go unnoticed by Chase, who, after waiting for the party to exit the building, reached down and retrieved it. The note contained two words; Remote Lake.

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The Cajun Wolf - Murder Most Foul

by Nicholas Hall

Chapter 9