Cross Country Chapter 5: Wildwood By Evan Andrews ©2025
This is a fan fiction.
"Cross Country" is part of a larger cycle of stories related to my Hunters and Hunted series. This is not your typical werewolf story any more than Hunters and Hunted is your typical Dracula story.
As always, I had some faces in mind as I wrote these stories. Chris is based on Chris Hemsworth, and Canvas on actor Greg Cipes from Anger Management. The models for the Wildwood Pack and their Bitches are mentioned at the end of the chapter. This story should not be considered a true representation of the sexuality of either the actors or the characters they play.
The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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After leaving the lone wolf, Hell, Chris and Canvas bought an old used truck and headed south and east towards the Tetons. Hell's directions were oddly specific for a hermit, so Chris figured that the lone wolf had probably had some contact with the Wildwood Pack before. He just wasn't admitting it.
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Several hundreds of miles later, the travelers turned off the sealed road onto another dirt track—what the maps kindly called "unimproved". A mile further, they came up against a gate with a big "No Trespassing" sign. And one on the gatepost that read "Trespassers will be violated".
"That looks familiar," said Canvas.
"Yeah," Chris said, "Looks like they're just as hospitable as Hell. Which reminds me. Maybe we shouldn't mention our reluctant friend."
Canvas did the math, and then nodded his head emphatically in agreement. If Hell had pulled that attitude in LA, he'd have had Brothers lining up too teach him his place. Why would he expect Brothers anywhere else to be any more accepting of the lone wolf' peculiarities?
"Get out and go open the gate."
Chris drove through and waited for Canvas to shut the gate behind them. The younger brother climbed back in, and they drove off.
"You don't think they'll be `Shoot first and ask questions later' types, do you?" Canvas said.
"I doubt they've gone that monkey. But when we run across them, don't make any sudden moves."
After a few more miles, they caught the scent of smoke, and of cooking. Real home-cookingl!
"Get ready," Chris said.
Around the next bend in the road they came upon the ranch--a collection of barns and outbuildings around a central lodge. Chris pulled up in front of the garage and stopped.
"It looks deserted," Canvas offered.
"Looks, yeah. But I think we know better. Stick close."
The travelers climbed out and walked towards the lodge. Stopping short, Chris let out a "Cooee".
They stood and watched as a stocky white man stepped out on the veranda. Shirtless, showing off a muscular chest, he had the air of a big man on campus.
"Who the fuck are you two monkeys? Can't you read signs? This land is posted, and you're trespassers."
Another man, a big redhead, stepped onto the porch to stand alongside his Brother.
"We don't like trespassers," the redhead said, growling as much as speaking, and he grabbed his crotch and squeezed, "But we do know what to do with them."
The redhead's bulge told Chris (and a second later Canvas) exactly what these Brothers did with trespassers.
A sound from behind the travelers made Canvas whirl around.
"Chris, uh, we have company," the blond said.
They did, and not the happy-to-see-ya kind. Maybe a dozen wild-looking men ringed the travelers in. An older man, the silverback clearly, backed up by a guy who clearly had Indian in his ancestry, stepped forward and moved cautiously towards the travelers.
"Chris..." Canvas said nervously.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Chris said, head half turned over his shoulder, "I know how many of you are back there, and you might get a nasty surprise if you try something stupid."
The silverback stopped and said, "Mark?"
The shirtless guy on the veranda said, "If you monkey boys are smart and cooperate, maybe we'll go easy on you."
Chris' temper finally flared, and he snarled, "Who're you calling a monkey, monkey?!"
You could feel the shock that froze the Wildwood pack. Mark jumped down to the ground and walked straight up to Chris. The blond stood his ground as the local alpha stared at him. Then Mark sniffed—and sniffed again."
"Well I'll be damned. They're not monkeys!"
"Maybe if your lodge didn't stink of monkey bitches you might have noticed earlier," Chris suggested. He still wasn't giving this alpha an inch.
Mark threw back his head and laughed. With that, the tension suddenly disappeared (though there was still an edge of wariness) and the rest of the pack gathered round them, shaking hands, slapping backs, and taking in the newcomers' scent.
"So," Mark said, "The question still stands. Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm Chris," Chris said, "And that's Canvas. He's from LA. I'm from Down Under. We're travelling across the country to New York and decided to visit any Brothers we found on the way."
"What made you think you'd find Brothers here?" the redhead (another Chris) asked.
"Let's just say you all've got a reputation in town," Chris said.
The Wildwood Pack all roared with laughter.
"I should hope so," Dan, the Indian, said, showing his teeth—a threat as much as a smile.
Mark clapped the blonds on the shoulder and said, "Welcome to Wildwood Ranch, Brothers!"
They walked towards the lodge (Mark's hands still on their shoulders), and Chris wasn't too surprised to see six handsome men wearing nothing more than jockstraps step out onto the veranda. (Well, maybe he was surprised by the number of them.) They smelled of monkey, but the way they carried themselves proclaimed that they'd all been Sealed. Figured. (An established Den needed its Bitches, but this really was a shitload of Bitches.) The six bitches were sizing up these stray Brothers that had invaded their den. The travelers must have passed some test because they smiled as Mark stopped at the foot of the steps.
"Go get dinner on the table," Mark called to the bitch squad, and the mostly-naked men disappeared back inside.
The lodge was mostly one large common room: big fireplace (with a roaring fire set) at one end and big kitchen at the other. The jockstrap boys were even then putting platters on a long common table with benches on both sides. With no ado, the men, Brothers and Bitches both, sat down and attacked the food.
The table talk was the talk that good friends talk, and the local pack made places for the visitors in their jawing. Chris couldn't imagine a reception more different from the one they'd had with Hell. They'd probably been right not to mention him.
After dinner (leaving the Bitches to clear and clean up), the Brothers moved to the pit in front of the fireplace and began to roughhouse. On the edge of it all, though, Mark, redheaded Chris, and the silverback, Casey, had Chris tell the story of their journey so far. The Brothers laughed out loud at the story about the Squatch hunters, and if they noticed that the Aussie didn't mention meeting Hell well, that was to be expected.
"Yeah," Mark said by way of dismissal, "Between here and LA there're only a few lone wolves."
"And one or two small packs," Casey said.
"And Las Vegas," red Chris said.
"We don't talk about Bruno," Mark reminded the redhead—warning the Aussie stud off the subject at the same time.
"Of course," Chris said, wondering what was up with Sin City that made it unmentionable.
"Now, when you leave here, heading east," Mark continued, "There're some more small dens, especially when you get closer to the big rivers, but you won't find another big pack until you get to the Windy City.
An edge to Mark's voice put Chris on guard. (Canvas was busy bonding with the rest of the pack.)
"They work for the vamps," Casey said, and Mark bared his teeth.
"Vamps?" Chris said. "What? How...?"
"Forget them," red Chris said. The beta was clearly unimpressed by that pack. `Work for vamps? Ach ptui!' his body language said.
After the Bitches had put the leftovers away and washed the dishes, they joined the Brothers, and things slowly turned sexual. Chris nodded at the six monkeys.
"Nice lot of bitches you've got there," he said. "Trespassers?"
Mark laughed.
"Not entirely," the alpha said, "The blond there is the only one we made from a trespasser. The rest we hunted elsewhere, except for the boy who we bought from monkey sex slavers."
"Do they have names? I mean, I like to talk to the man I'm fucking sometimes," Chris joked.
"I'm sure they do, but mostly we call them Black Bitch, Spic Bitch, Muscle Bitch, Hung Bitch, Blond Bitch, and Boy Bitch. Hung! Get your ass up here."
Hung Bitch with his dark Latino skin, beard, and obscenely stuffed jock crawled out of the crowd and answered the Alpha's call. He knelt in front of the dominant Brothers, and their guest, and looked up expectantly.
"I forget. Do you have a monkey name?" Mark said.
"Yes, sir. Boomer," Hung said, "But I like being called Hung Bitch better. It's what I am."
"He just says that because he wants the Alpha to fuck him," Casey laughed.
"Of course he does," Mark said (and Chris noticed that red Chris wasn't smiling), "But tonight, I think he'll serve our guests first."
"With your permission," Hung said, and he crawled over to park himself between Chris' spread legs.
Opening Chris' jeans, the Bitch fished out big hard Aussie wood and got down to the serious business of sucking cock. Red Chris slid alongside his name-buddy and whipped his own crank out. Hung got a good hold on both Brothers' dicks and showed he could and would do two men at once, no matter how big they were.
"Fuck!" Chris moaned. "He's good!"
"He should be," red Chris said. "He's been Sealed for several years now. In fact, he was our first."
"They took me off a big budget porno shoot," Hung admitted as he switched from one shaft to the other. "Best career move I ever made."
"He's shameless," Mark said. The Alpha's own cock was out, and he teased his meat waiting for a shot at some Bitch ass.
"Does he do anything BUT suck cock?" Chris said. Down Under cocksucking was looked down on as monkey sex, but Hung's mouth might win over some of the traditionalists.
"Does he?!" red Chris said. "Bitch, down on all fours and present. Now!"
Hung complied, and the Chrises soon had the stud bitch well spit roasted, Red's cock taking his mouth while the Aussie stud filled him at the other end.
"Fuck me!" Hung ordered. No matter how hard they fucked him, this Bitch knew his rights. He took all they could give and demanded more.
After switching places a few times, the Chrises DPed the Bitch, brother cocks sharing Hung's tight cunt until they bred him, double dosing the monkey's guts with sperm. When the Brothers were done, Hung smiled and went back to the rest of the pack, cum dripping down the insides of his thighs. There was more fucking he had to do.
The night continues with a convivial and comfortable orgy, the first of many. During their stay, Canvas really fell in love with the Wildwood Pack, so much so that Chris wondered if he'd lost his traveling companion. Chris, on the other hand, got hooked on fucking Boy Bitch (monkey name, Marc). Even if he'd taken a round-about path to get to the ranch, this boy was now an enthusiastic fuck. It turned out, Chris learned as they cuddled after one vigorous fuck, the bitch had had a head start. He'd been bi when the slavers took him and had already had some man-sex experience. When Wildwood acquired him, they got a true gem.
The worst of the winter months settled in less than a week later, and none of the Wildwood Brothers objected to Chris and Canvas lengthening their stay. (Nor did Luke and Liam when Chris let them know.) The travelers enthusiastically joined in the hunting, the ranch work, and of course the fucking. Even the Bitches were happy to enjoy some variety.
When the first hint of spring appeared, though, Chris and Canvas prepared to get back on the road. They overhauled their truck and packed up what little they'd brought.
"Once you get to I-80, it's more or less a straight shot to New York," Mark said, and that advice given the Alpha turned back to the lodge.
Casey, though, smiled, and handed the travelers a card on the sly
"I can tell that in spite of what we told you, you mean to stop in the Windy City," he said. "Now, I don't know where the Brothers there den up, but you could try stopping by the Manor, the local vamp clubhouse (address on the card), and asking for Dyson or Alcide."
"Thanks, Brother," Chris said, and he and Canvas gave the silverback a hug before climbing into the truck.
"We're going to the Windy City, are we?" Canvas said.
"What do you think?"
(But not Las Vegas.)
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If anyone is interest, the faces of the Brothers and monkeys of Wildwood Ranch are:
Mark Wahlberg- alpha Chris Pratt – beta Casey Anderson (naturalist) - silverback Garrett Hedlund (actor in Mojave) Oscar Isaac Karl Urban Kris Letang (hockey player) Spencer Bolejack (from Hillbilly Blood) And mixed martial artists: Dan Hornbuckle, Des Green, and Jason Silva
Black Bitch – mixed martial artist Donavon Frelow Spic Bitch – wrestler Horatio Escobar Hung Bitch – porn daddy Boomer Banks Muscle Bitch – fitness model Adam Von Rothfelder Boy Bitch – Corbin Fisher star Marc (RIP) Blond Bitch – runner David Marino