The Woods, Timber Creek School Of Fine Arts, Wakefield, U.S.A...
Porter Fulton hustled out the front door of his bungalow in a bid to make it to his first class of the day, Conway and Owen had been long gone starting their day much earlier than he had after he'd nearly overslept. According to his schedule, he'd been due for Werewolf Sensibility Training, and as a result, he found himself getting further and further away from Bungalow 13, and what looked to be the main part of the school in general, and headed towards the deep woods in accordance with where his lastest class was being taught. He could already smell the stench of werewolves as his nostrils flared and he became a bit uneasy. Porter made his way toward the edge of the woods noting the looming trees and the sound of rushing water that had been due to a nearby river as he came to an open spot with a good deal of shade and nine werewolves standing about chatting and looking in his direction.
He had recognized two of them, Conway who even now was the largest among them, and Owen the smallest even when compared to Porter himself. They had both rushed over to him with smiles on their faces.
"Bout time you made it," said Conway with a charming smile as his blue eyes seemed to light up the moment he saw Porter.
"We thought you'd never wake up," said Owen chiming in with a fake smile of his own. He had still been uneasy about Conway's apparent attachment to this new arrival but decided to play it polite nonetheless.
Porter sighed as he tried to make sense of why they'd been summoned out into the woods.
"Any idea why we're out here?" he asked with an arched brow.
"This class is what is assigned to those who are packless, a sort of crash course in what it means to be a werewolf and how to best maintain the peace when at school and out in the world whenever possible." Owen began to explain.
"Packless?" asked Porter with an inquisitive expression, he'd still not been used to the idea that he'd been a werewolf.
"That's what the purebloods and pack born call those who are not one of them but have beast blood, Most of us were born among humans and didn't know of our true nature until we came of age for the traits to manifest," explained Owen. "Others like myself and Conway here were given to different and shall we say less than ideal circumstances, thus making us an anomaly even among the pack less, but due to Con's Alpha status the others don't give us any shit over it aside from snide comments like "Horn Dogs" and my personal favorite "Sex Pets" whenever they feel the need to."
Porter had been sure he had not liked the sound of that, despite knowing that the nicknames could have simply been due to their physical relationship being well known among those inhabiting Bungalow 13. Of course, he wasn't privy to how Conway and Owen were used in exotic sex trafficking in their past.
"You think it's a good idea for you to be out during your heat?" asked Conway his nostrils flaring as he stood towering above Owen who treated him to a small smile before running a soft hand along his massive t-shirt-clad chest.
The apparent heat between them had been as palpable here in the woods as it had been back in their living quarters. Porter tried to make the best of his situation and turned his attention to the scenery feeling a bit awkward when his memories of walking in on the two of them going at it like rabid "horn dogs" had replayed in his mind.
The chattering and odd occasional glances had come to an end when Porter caught a whiff of a rather threatening stench that gave not only him but everyone else in attendance a means of pause. Three more werewolves had arrived but none had been attending the class and from the smell of them, Porter had deduced they had come from old money and long generations of beast blood.
The leader of the group that arrived had been oddly dressed in a fancy suit along with the rest of those following behind him.
"Well, well.....a new addition to the packless gang." said the leader, a rather smug and thin-looking yet oddly familiar Beta werewolf that made Owen roll his eyes and Conway move into a defensive position his muscles rippling and his body ready to strike at the instant of a threat toward Owen or Porter.
"What are you doing here Randy?" asked Owen in a bored tone. "Didn't you get enough last night when you ran with your tail tucked between your legs....when will you get it through your thick fuckin skull, I will never fuck you, your dick's too little for my tastes."
The Beta known as Randy, specifically Randel Kenneth Orson had been glaring at Owen Clark for quite some time his dark eyes smoldering with rage and lust as he got a whiff of the Omega's heat. Porter had recognized him as the interloper who attempted to break into their living quarters just to have a go at Owen due to his heat being so overpowering in terms of scent.
None of the other werewolves had been bold enough to directly challenge an Alpah for his rights to an Omega in heat and thus Randy had been alone in his attempt and vastly weaker by comparison. Randel Orson had been a thin and well-dressed werewolf, who took pride in his appearance with flashy and refined attire and he seemed more or less capable of commanding respect, or either his money had and he carried himself with an air of sophistication that Conway and many other werewolves had sorely lacked.
"Sooner or later, you're gonna be on the end of my dick begging for me to fuck you, fag but for the time being, I just came to see the new arrival," said Randy, his dark eyes flickering toward Porter who had an uneasy feeling about him.
Conway narrowed his eyes at Randy getting in his face as he attempted to approach Porter who had been shocked by the entire display. Owen had a look of concern filed across his pale face for a brief moment, his jealousy had come to the surface as Conway's wolfish protection seemed to have become extended to the new arrival.
Owen had noticed even before the others had but kept it to himself as he prepared his mind for class and the upcoming ceremony for the full moon, he knew the Moon-Kiss ceremony had been what determined one's mate and so far neither Conway nor he had ever been able to find out whom their mates would be.
Conway snarled as Randy did his best to keep his knees from buckling in the wake of the older Alpha's brutish nature overwhelming him in front of his friends.
"Move along, Orson," growled Conway in a dire warning.
Randy had been about to use his bravado to retort when a voice from behind them seemed to have been in agreement with Conway.
"That's right Mr. Orson, take your friends and move along." growled a rather strikingly handsome older man given to well-toned muscle wearing a red and black plaid checkered shirt with the sleeves ripped from the end and a pair of blue jeans and brown work boots.
He'd been average in height but his dark brown eyes meant business and the seemingly effortless farmer's tan had indicated he knew his way around a scrap and then some.
"Bernard, Oliver, let's leave the lowly pack less to their instruction on how to be real werewolves shall we?" said Randy getting the attention of his two sidekicks.
Porter didn't need to be told that both were Gamma werewolves as well.
The older werewolf dressed in the plaid shirt with torn sleeves had narrowed his eyes at them commanding like that of an Alpha but he didn't give off the same anxious hormones as Conway, nor did he feel the need to challenge him for a claim of Owen.
"That's Mr. Fowler," said Owen sensing Porter's question long before he'd been able to ask it. "He's our instructor of sorts in the ways of the wolf, a staunch believer in the old ways before money and power made some of our kind weak and snobbish by comparison."
The strikingly handsome and well-muscled Mr. Fowler inspected his students one by one, slowly moving among them sniffing them out and getting acquainted with their various scents.
"Rollins, you're in need of a good workout, take a few laps and come back to cool down," he said noting the offending pheromones radiating off Conway before he took off as instructed.
Before he'd gone, he and Porter once more locked eyes before he disappeared beyond the trees. Porter had not known what to make of the strange pull that seemed to be between them but he shook it off immediately when he found himself face-to-face with Mr. Fowler.
"Ahh, our new arrival has made it to the pack at last." He said in a rather enthusiastic and gruff tone. "You'll be happy to find that there will be no pureblood nonsense here, We are a pack after all and I am aiming to teach you the ways of your true blood, the ways of the wolf as nature intended, There will be no treatment pampering in my class and every member of this pack will be able to stand the test of time as well as the trials of the moon before I am finished with you."
"Trials of The Moon?" asked Porter with an arch brow in confusion.
"A series of tests to strengthen and understand your inner wolf and prove yourself worthy among your packmates improving upon your bond and yourself in the process." Mr. Fowler finished. "I expect good things from you all, and of course, there is the moon-kiss event where one might potentially find their mate here on campus."
"Mate?" asked Porter looking at Owen.
"The wolf you are to spend the rest of your life with and chosen by Luna herself for those fortunate enough to have one pointed out to them," explained Owen in a rather bored tone.
"Exactly Mr. Clark." agreed Mr. Fowler with a smile, his perfect rows of sharp white teeth giving everyone pause for a few moments. "It's how I met my wife and so had many others who in the past attended this and even met their true mates while on campus, some had not been so fortunate as we but that is the risk one takes in order to find that special someone, a chance of a lifetime."
Porter had checked out on Fowler's speech after the mate thing finding himself at a loss for words and thoughts when it came to discussion about him being bonded for the rest of his life with someone due to the moon choosing it for him. The thought crossed his mind about possibly being bound to a superficial jerk like Randy Orson or worse and he had been quite unnerved by it.
It was an absurd notion and quite frankly something he had not agreed with. Still, it seemed to be how things worked for werewolves and he had been one of them much to his misfortune.
"Alright class, into the woods," instructed Mr. Fowler as he led the charge of other werewolves deep amid the trees.
Porter had already not liked the looks of this class but had little choice about attending, he'd known next to nothing about being a werewolf aside from horror movies from his youth back in his hometown. On the bright side, he'd been attending class with Owen who seemed to be quite knowledgable about werewolves and the like, and Conway, who had been oddly protective of both him and Owen, possibly due to them sharing a living quarters and him actively screwing Owen whenever the mood struck him, but it was something, he wasn't alone amid a sea of endless faces with no names, as of yet.