Bree Bellucci

Bound By Wolves

It was only the beginning of their four day, 500-mile mountain climbing trip and Rachel was already so excited she could almost burst. A trip with some of her best girl friends was just what she needed to take her mind off her endless dating troubles. No men, and especially no boys, allowed. She wanted to make the rule that they couldn’t even talk about guys or relationships at all during the trip, but she knew that was too hard to accomplish. They were still females, after all.

Rachel’s last relationship had ended recently and it was all she could do to try and stop thinking about it. She was swearing off all men for the time being, she couldn't handle any more disappointment for a while.

This wasn’t just any girl's trip. Rachel and her friends weren’t like other women they knew. They didn’t go shopping or go to spas and get manicures. They didn't go on vacations to beaches to lay dormant on the sand, watching hairless men in Speedos, getting pointless tans around the rims of their expensive sunglasses. They were adventurers. They wanted to run, jump, sweat and feel the heat of the sun. They loved the satisfying burn that emanated from deep within their stressed muscle fibers. They wanted to get lost and to get dirty, and go to sleep hearing the rustle of the leaves outside instead of the rush of traffic. Most of all they needed a challenge.

Burning energy surrounded by her best friends in the world, was the greatest thing she could think of to distract her from what was shaping up to be a very dry spell in her love life. She was getting older, and she was starting to feel the anxious ticking of her biological clock. She wanted to have kids one day, to give birth, to experience the full cycle of natural life and reproduction, but she didn’t want to copulate with just anyone. The sterile and upstanding men she dated in the city were all too clean-cut, too vanilla, and too weak.

These men didn’t deserve for her to carry on their seed. Rachel didn’t want to slow the pace of her life for some man-child whose greatest ambition is to sit on the couch and watch other people play sports.

Rachel’s friends Michele, Emily, and Katie weren’t quite as adept at rock climbing as Rachel was, but they did have one thing in common — they were all single. And they were all tired of the same bullshit.

The cabin they rented far up in the reaches of Sequoia National Park was not some fancy chalet or cushy get-away house. There was no electricity and barely any running water. The only mini-bar was the one they brought themselves, and the beds were more like cots, with scratchy warm blankets and pillows that felt almost like they were stuffed with straw. If they were going to be in the forest, they were going to do it right. No television, no men and no crying.

They made a hearty meal of tough bread, sausages and soup, and each of them poured at least an inch of whiskey into the metal canteens they had brought along. The next morning they would start their grueling climb to the top of the first cliff, but tonight they were going to start off by having a little fun.

The sun was beginning to set behind the trees. The girls lit candles and the smell of hot wax emanated throughout the cabin. They talked about their waning love lives, the last men they had been with, all the things they liked and disliked about their jobs. As the whiskey was flowing and their cheeks started to flush, their conversation got a little bolder.

“Okay Katie, truth or dare?” asked Rachel.

“Truth.”

“How many times a day do you masturbate?”

The ladies all fidgeted uncomfortably. Even grown women sometimes felt silly talking about certain things, even if they all did it themselves.

“Ha ha,” said Katie. “Very funny. Like I would ever tell you perverts.”

“Come on, you know us! We’re like your sisters, you should be comfortable talking to us about anything,” Rachel pushed.

“Fine,” she said. She thought about what she had done just that morning, in the shower, before she had gotten in the car for the trip, “At least twice a day, and in the summer sometimes more.” Katie turned bright red.

The girls erupted with laughter. They all agreed that satisfying themselves was something they did regularly, but talking about it in a group got them strangely riled up.

“Your turn, Rachel. Truth or dare?” Michelle asked, mercifully taking the heat off Katie.

“Truth.”

“Have you ever masturbated with something other than a dildo?”

“No way!” she said, as a reflex, without even thinking about if it was true. She was trying not to think about what would fit inside her vagina on this trip. But, she realized, some thoughts were harder to push away.

“Not even with a cucumber?” Emily laughed, cracking up and almost spilling her drink.

Rachel thought about it some more, she was the one turning bright red now. She remembered a few times she and her roommate at Cal State had gotten drunk and feisty with an empty beer bottle. Corona, she remembered, had the longest neck. Modelo was the thickest one. But all of them were cold and lifeless. Playful, sure, but not arousing. Man those were some wild and crazy times, Rachel could hardly recognize the girl from her college years.

“I don’t know, maybe in college? I don’t really remember," she said evasively.

“Once I used a hairbrush,” said Emily. She was usually the first to open up to the group in any conversation. “I was trying to tease this guy I was fucking. I wanted to show him what I could do to myself and get him really riled up so I made him a video. He went crazy for it.”

They made a list of things they had used to penetrate themselves when there was no one else around to do it for them, the weirdest by far was Emily's admission of once using a hotel travel-sized shampoo bottle. It was a desperate situation she pleaded.

“Once I rolled up a sheet and used it,” said Katie.

“I will admit, I do touch myself a lot. But it is not the same, though,” said Michele, “as it is with a man.”

The other girls nodded in agreement. One by one they all got the glazed look of someone who was imagining something far more visceral than could be played out in decent conversation. Even a conversation among close friends.

“I mean sure, you can orgasm. But nothing beats the warm hard feeling of someone coming inside you. Let’s not kid ourselves, it is still just like fucking a mirror.”

She was right, Rachel thought. Of course there was nothing better than a real, rough and tumble man. With his sweat and strength and hair rubbing her chest raw as he straddled her.

“It's not that there aren’t any men out there,” Rachel said. “We’ve all had our fair share of dicks and johnsons. It's just that none of them are tough enough. None of them can climb as far or as fast as we do. None of the city boys we date like to get dirty. I don’t want to be the wildest one in bed, do you know what I mean?”

The other ladies knew exactly what Rachel was talking about. They all echoed back to her, “yes," and “hell yeah!" They were getting riled up, the whiskey bottle had a good sized dent in it by now.

“That's why we’re here,” said Katie, and she held up her canteen for a group toast. “To the masculine energy of the wilderness!”

Michelle roared, “To finding our even wilder sides!"

They all took long sips, reaching the bottom of the whiskey faster than they’d hoped. Rachel went around to refill all of their containers with as much as they would hold. This weekend was about pushing their limits after all.

“What is it about the forests of the west coast that bring out the wildness in people?” said Emily already slurring some of her words. “One time when I was a teenager, I came camping here with my family. We were staying in two tents, the kids in one and my sister and me in another one. When they thought we were asleep, I could hear my parents having sex. It was the loudest and craziest I had ever heard anyone going at it. To this day, I cannot get those sounds out of my head. They were like animals, like dogs.”

After that, they took turns telling stories about the craziest thing they had ever experienced in the outdoors. Katie told them about her first time at Girl Scout camp. She was ten years old and they had been sleeping five to a tent, with the camp leader in her own tent a few feet away.

“Late into the night we heard a rumbling outside the tent,” said Katie. “We were all scared, and no one wanted to go outside. We kept really quiet, and turned off all of our flashlights hoping whatever it was outside would go away, but it kept coming closer. When our counselor finally went out of her tent, she let out the loudest scream I’ve ever heard to this day. It was a bear. A hulking grizzly bear. We saw its shadow from her lantern on our tents. It was like something out of a cartoon. We were so terrified, and the other girls and I grabbed each other as hard as we could. Our scout leader’s scream scared the bear away and he never came back, but none of us could go to sleep after that."

Michele told them about the time she and her college boyfriend had gone canoeing at Yosemite. They had come upon a pack of wolves heading towards the bank of the river to get water, and slowed their boat down so they could watch. The wolves were majestic, she said. Like pets but with almost human facial expressions. All of a sudden, while they were sitting in the boat, a rabbit came towards the water to get a drink and the wolves came to life. Almost telepathically, the wolves all jumped at once in a group to surround the rabbit while the largest female grabbed the animal with her majestic jaws.

“It was so amazing, so incredibly arousing,” said Michele, “that I grabbed my boyfriend right there in the canoe and told him to take me right there. I couldn’t even wait until we were back on land. I think deep inside, I somehow wanted those wolves to be near while we were doing it. He fucked me so hard that afternoon that our boat almost sank. I still remember how the wood of the canoe felt on my back as he was going down on me, the oars bouncing around inside the boat, echoing with his grunts and my screams. We made so many waves in the water that afternoon. Sending the heat from our bodies literally splashing onto the shore.”

Moans came from each of the other friends. It had been too long since any of them were so turned on, and here they were in a cabin full of only women.

The wind outside the cabin began to blow harder. The sun had set and they were almost finished with their first bottle of whiskey. Rachel knew that the best time to climb was early, before the sun hit its highpoint in the sky, so she said goodnight and headed to her own room to go to sleep. The other girls kept talking for a while, but one by one they headed off to their own rooms to get some rest before the big day.

Once she got to her tiny room and took off her clothes, Rachel couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation. The wool of the thick blankets rubbed against her skin, and she laid spread eagle, eyes closed, taking in the pure mountain air that came in through her window. She wished she could bottle it, take it home with her or inject it directly into her veins.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her climbing gear laying in a haphazard pile on the floor. Harness, ropes, more ropes, chalk, clamps, helmet, shoes, elastic cases, clothes made especially for sticking close to your skin.

And then there were the picks. When she first started as a climber, she used belay ropes and spiked shoes to get her way up the rocks. It was slower and safer than the pick method, which required intense arm strength and a trust of the rock beneath you, a knowledge of the nature you were engaging with. But she was a professional now. She could handle higher climbs, denser rocks, heavier equipment. Her newest purchase had been the 6 inch pick, used to get a grip deep in the rock and pull yourself up. It was the thickest pick she had ever used. The new rubber design of the handle had a textured grip and finger grooves so you could hold it even if your hands were sweaty.

As she ran her fingertips over the thick end of the pick, Rachel got an idea. She carried the instrument over to her bed and laid down, spreading her knees wide open. Slowly she started to touch herself, first running her hands down the hard muscles of her stomach, years of core-strengthening had given her the tough but nubile body of a warrior.

Her nipples were getting harder and contrasting with the supple skin of her breasts beneath them. They were large for an athletic woman, but they never got in her way. She loved the way they felt through the thin fabric of sports bras, brushing against the hard rocks that she climbed. And how they felt now, open and puckering beneath the night breeze.

She traced her abdominal muscles and reached down to her thighs, stroking slowly until she got to her pussy. It was hot, and already so much wetter than she could remembered being in a long time. She found her engorged clit and began to rub ferociously, up and down, slinging her own juices onto the rough blanket of her cot.

With her eyes closed, she began to imagine a tongue licking her pussy. Not the tongue of any man she knew, or any she had dreamt about. It was more primal than that, a more desperate and innate kind of licking. Lapping up her juices like a thirsty animal, not able to stop, never getting enough.

She felt the heat start rising in her feet and her legs began to twitch. She was close to coming, but she wanted to try something. She reached over to the pick and carefully turned it over. She took the grip end and inched it up inside her, pulling back and forth, feeling the ridges and the finger grips and the wide hard handle beneath it and “oooooOOOHH!” she started moaning before she could even stop herself.

She reached for a pillow and placed it over her face. She fucked herself over and over and over, opening her tight pussy up to this new toy, this new permutation of a man’s virtuous member. She was getting greedy. She felt like she could take even more, that she needed more, that she could take a whole mountain inside her right then and all of a sudden, it was all over.

Her muscles tensed and spasmed and her whole body shuddered while the handle was still deep inside her. Her fingers were drenched in her own cum, and she pulled the handle out slowly and returned it to its place among her supplies. As she caught her breath and her heartbeat was returning to a normal pace, she heard noises coming from the other rooms in the cabin. Maybe it was the wind?

But then, she noticed muffled sounds and repetitive banging motions that were all too familiar. It seemed that her friends had gotten the same idea. She listened to each of her friends make unique sounds: Emily’s was soft, like a crying puppy; Katie was grunting, muffled but intense, saying “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck”; Michele’s was like a song. Rachel could imagine Michele’s mouth in a perfect ‘O’ shape, sucking and blowing air as she thrust her own toy inside her.

The noises got louder and louder, reaching a crescendo all at once, like a magnificent aria. She could almost feel the very foundation of the house shaking from all that noise, all those orgasms. After that, all Rachel heard was the slow mountain breeze coming through the curtains.

She might have felt weird, if they were anyone else or if they had been in any other vacation spot, listening to the sounds of her friends’ pleasuring themselves. But here, it felt like a cozy blanket, covering her with the thought of warmth emanating from the earth’s true center.

That night there the cabin was full of so much estrogen, so many female smells and pheromones and needs, all pulsing through the air and seeping into the birch wood of the floors and the walls. The smell of four single ladies, all in perpetual heat, wafted through the open screen of the windows and into the forest beyond.

That smell attached to the molecules in the air and disseminated into the wide swaths of land around the reserve. Anymore, it was a scent unfamiliar to humans. Thousands of years of evolution and urbanization and chemicals and the sterilized scents of stainless steel buildings had made it impossible for humans to recognize anymore the debilitating and vicious scent of their own desires. But that same native smell was still intoxicating to animals, especially the most human-like animals.

Before she finally fell asleep, Rachel made a solemn vow to herself that once she and her friends left that cabin in the woods, when their vacation was over and they had accomplished what they had set out to, she would find someone to do to her what she had only just begun to do to herself. To take her laying down on a bed of peat moss, standing up against a balboa tree, or bending her over a glacial boulder. To show her all the ways that nature could be the ultimate aphrodisiac. She would find her wild man once and for all. But for tonight, she only dreamt.

The next morning, Rachel and her friends were going to be scaling the largest cliff in the whole reserve: the Agro Craig. “Go big or go home,” they all agreed. And none of them were too keen on going home without some epic stories to tell. Starting with the toughest climb would only make them stronger, prouder, tougher. The height and inclination of this cliff was the hardest any of them had ever tried, but the pent up energy from last night’s conversation and the mist of the early morning were revving their engines like they had never been tired in their lives. The girls felt like they might never be tired again.

As per usual, Rachel was the first to ascend the rock. She made sure to secure her helmet first, and then wrapped the ropes and harness tightly around her body. She secured the carabiners into place near her hips, and her still sensitive groin. The hexes, clams, and the ice pick with the large wooden handle still slick from last night's pleasure adventure, were tucked into her backpack. Everything was in its own special elastic spot. She reached into the pouch at her waist and rubbed her hands with chalk, to increase the friction between her hands and the wall.

She began to scale the craig as the other ladies were still putting their harnesses on and tightening the straps. The plan was for them to climb to the top, meet at the crest and break for lunch and then all make their way back down and around the mountain back to the car to get home before dark. This was the tallest and hardest of the climbs they had scheduled for the trip, but they should all be able to make it back by sunset.

“Last one to the top is a pussy!” Rachel yelled playfully at her friends and fellow gluttons for the dirty side of nature.

One foot after another, one hand reaching above her head at a time, she moved up the hard face of the mountain. Inch by inch, relishing at each pound of her body that she was strong enough to lift herself. There was still a ways to go, and she planted her feet into grooves in the rock face, sitting in her harness and turning her face towards the rising sun behind her.

By now she was at least a hundred feet up. Rachel looked around at the gorgeous view. The redwood trees extend hundreds of feet above them, phallic and hard and authoritative. She had never seen anything so beautiful. Her muscles were starting to swell. Her body was covered in sweat, and the harness was tight around her groin.

“Am I still feeling the leftover tremors from last night,” she thought, “or… am I actually getting aroused by the scenery?” It wouldn’t really surprise her. As a child she was always touching herself outside, rolling naked in the mud and rubbing herself against trees in their sprawling yard. These were things she had not told the other girls the night before when they were sharing stories. It was not because she was shy, or because she didn’t like sharing with them, but because she had forgotten how powerful those feelings were until right then. Something about nature, and the raw power in the animal spirit always got her juices flowing. Now, suspended above the earth she could see why no man she’d ever met had ever satisfied that most basic of needs in her.

She reached into the bag of chalk to coat her hands, afraid the increased moisture would cause her to slip. Slippery was good, she liked slippery. Just not when she was hanging from the face of a mountain by a thin rope and a six inch metal pick.

The top of the mountain was something they could reach. A goal, a point of contact, something to conquer. But now that they were here, on top of it, immersed in it, the mountain surrounded her and she became a part of it. It was bigger than her, and she let herself melt into the face of the earth, touching her whole body to the rock, hardening as it hardened, then feeling both of them soften simultaneously. She was becoming closer to nature, and as it was happening, she wanted even more of it. Suddenly she felt her body surge with energy. She reached down and grabbed the pick, shoving it back into the rock above her head.

Each climbing step was harder and harder, but she took it in stride, feeling the heat and power of the mountain itself running through her own body. Looking down, she saw her friends far below her. She was way ahead of them, and from here she felt almost alone, like she was the first person to ever climb this mountain, the first woman to ever get as high with the strength of her own arms lifting her up.

By the time Rachel reached the top of the mountain, she was covered in sweat. Glistening with the natural result of burning so much of her body’s energy. She took one more sweeping look at the other mountains and the sprawling tree-scape behind her before reaching her hands over the top of the cliff. Pulling herself up and over, she felt a surge of pride and accomplishment. She unhooked the ropes and harness from her torso, and stood at the top of the mountain looking around at the magnificence surrounding her.

“Aaaaaooooooooohhhhhhh!” she shouted. The loudest sound she had ever made, coming from somewhere deep within her. She had made it to the top of this mountain. From now on, nothing could stop her now from accomplishing her life’s ambitions.

Behind her, Rachel heard a rustling of trees. A snapping of twigs. She turned around quickly, scanning the forest for animals. The wind played all kinds of tricks up here at these altitudes, she knew, but the sound had been more intentional, almost human. A few yards away behind a massive pine tree, she caught a glimpse of a shadowed figure.

“Hello?” she called. “Hello? Is there someone there?”

But there was no response. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. She knelt down and looked over the side of the cliff to see how far down the other girls were. She knew she had been way ahead of them, and she couldn’t even hear their voices now from this far up. As she peered over the edge, careful not to lean too far over, she heard the noise again behind her, this time something closer to footsteps. She turned her head around quickly.

“Hello?”

But as she turned around, she heard another rustle and she swore she saw the shadowy figure run behind another tree. It was as if it was spying on her. If Rachel hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn the shadow was in the shape of a human. A man, actually.

“Don’t be stupid,” she told herself. “There’s no one else up here. The park rangers told us there was no one else attempting this mountain this weekend. You’re being crazy. It’s probably just the altitude. Just get it together and look at the height you just climbed. You’re tired and-”

There it was again, leaning out from behind another gigantic sequoia tree. It’s movements were more graceful than a man, but it was larger than any animal Rachel had ever seen. She walked towards it, but when she got closer the figure started to run.

Before she knew what she was doing, Rachel had grabbed her gear and began running after it. It wasn’t as fast as a wildcat, running just beyond her as if it wanted her to follow it. She was tired, she needed rest, but the adrenaline was pumping through making her faster, more limber, bolstering her curiosity above all else. Together, with her closely at its heels, they ran down a bank of the mountain to a clearing, where tree branches thick with leaves obscured much of the sunlight. In the mottled darkness, the figure raced behind another tree and began circling, tree after tree, but still obscured in the shadow. Rachel stood in the middle of the clearing, turning around in circles.

“Hello?” she said. “Who are you? I just want to see you. I promise I won’t hurt you.” She realized how silly that sounded. She was much smaller than the creature, whatever it was. But humans were still the natural predators of the wilderness and all its children. Rachel called out again but nothing responded.

She started feeling dizzy, and leaned over, putting her hands on her thighs to steady herself. She looked down at the ground and the bed of leaves beneath her cushioning her aching feet, feeling all of a sudden like she needed to take a nap. The last thing she remembered hearing was a loud flutter of leaves and the soft pouncing of an animal expertly catching it’s prey.

When Rachel opened her eyes, she felt a tightness around her limbs and her belly and a familiar scratching against her back, which she realized then was completely bare. She was tied to a tree. Her arms, above her head, and her legs, spread out below her, were bound using the ropes from her own climbing gear. She tried to scream, but she was too tired, and almost no sound came out.

Across the clearing, she saw her creature. It came closer and she finally gets a look at the thing she chased here, the thing that must be responsible for her capture. It’s walking on all fours, covered head to paw in a thick grey fur. The color of rock, of a winter sky.

The closer it gets to her, the more of its body and face she sees. It is definitely a male, she can sense his energy and smell the musk of something that values the conquest even more than she does. His body is moving swiftly towards her, and in the light that seeps beyond the leaves, she sees a face, half wolf but with distinctly human eyes. Rachel gasps.

“What are you?”

“I’m Rannulf,” he said. “And I could smell you coming from miles away,” said the creature. Rachel caught her breath. His voice was so husky, so sensual. It was like a growl made coherent.

“What do you want from me?” she whispered, knowing already what his answer was but wanting to hear his voice again.

Instead of a response, the animal stood up on its hind legs. She scanned its body, feeling almost faint as she saw the human-like abdominal muscles flanked by distinctly animal ribs.

And then, she saw it. A huge, bulging cock. The base, where the furry mammalian balls were tucked into his abdomen, was dark and brooding and black. But the cock itself was a bright pink, red, like it had grown out of him right then, sensing in both of them such a strong desire. Evolution at will. It was unlike any human’s she had ever seen. Like a giant and perfect hybrid between man and animal.

She was transfixed, and as she stared at it, she saw it begin to get hard. Her mouth began to water and her pussy was moistening. The head was still like that of a human, with the curving glans she knew so well. Her tongue traced the line of it in her mouth as she imagined taking it there. But below the first part of the thick shaft was a second curve, getting fuller and harder by the minute. She could only imagine how good it would feel inside her.

She could feel her pussy lubricating itself, her body imagining for itself what it would need to handle such a massive animal phallus. The side of her face began to sweat, she was consumed with a kind of desire she had only ever felt in nature. This thing, this creature, was the perfect combination of the masculine energy of the wilderness and the human-likeness of a man. Finally, she knew what he was. Something she had only ever thought of as a fairytale. A story told to scare hikers.

He was a werewolf.

“I thought you could only come out in the light of a full moon?” Rachel said. She was no folklore expert, but some things she knew about creatures like this. Creatures she always thought were imaginary, but would soon know to the fullest and widest extent.