Page 66 of The Good Boys Club

Time to get naked in a tent with a hundred strangers.

Covered in a fresh pot of my best friend’s piss.

Hashtag winning at life.

Mash and I had talked about it beforehand. The way that shifters shifted was different to werewolves. Our shifts were much less dramatic. Much less“oooh look at me, I was human-like and now my skeleton has changed and I’m a massive fucking dog.”Shifters simply shifted, and that was it. No fanfare, no extravagant moaning or writhing. No big deal.

We’d agreed the best thing to do, to avoid suspicion, would be to wait until most folk were mid-shift and then . . .poof, change. Hopefully, no one would notice, and if they did, perhaps they wouldn’t remember, or would blame it on their werewolf brains.

The only people we needed to stay clear of were the cubs waiting to turn as they’d likely not second-guess what they’d witnessed. Which was fine. I didn’t much fancy whipping my kecks off in front of the teenagers anyway.

“There are two rules to remember once you’re shifted,” Mash said as we filed into the marquee. He was barefoot. Told me it was easier that way. “Don’t stray off Howling Pines land and don’t harm the cats.”

“How will I know if I’ve gone off Howling Pines land?” I asked.

“It won’t smell like werewolf piss, duh.” Mash took one last look at the moon, its brightness somewhat diminished with the fading sun, and pulled me into the tent.

“How come you—I meanwedon’t shift until the sun sets?”

He shrugged. “Werewolf thing.” That was a typical Mash response. He never questioned anything; he simply went along with things and tried to squeeze out as much fun as possible. “You wanna strip off with my pack, or with the men, or the women, or somewhere else?”

“With your pack is fine.” It didn’t matter. Everyone would be naked, with nowhere to hide. It was a square marquee. There were no secret areas I could sneakily undress in.

Mash smiled at me like the question had been a test—even though I knew it wasn’t—and that I’d selected the correct answer.

He led me to a section in the middle of the right-hand side. Cubbies lined the walls like lockers without their doors. Just cube-shaped holes to place clothes in. There wasn’t one with my name on.

“You put your things with mine,” Mash said. And without warning, he whipped his tank off and dropped his shorts.

Mash was not wearing boxers. I made a point of not staring at his body, even though my eyes desperately wanted to trace the curve of his ass, slide down the taper of his waist, his happy trail. But on second thoughts, getting a chub and stripping down to my birthday suit in front of dozens of people I’d only briefly met last night wasn’t an idea I was super fond of.

Okay, here went nothing.

I unlaced my boots, pulled them off, and pushed my socks inside them. Then I took out the clothes Mash had crammed into the cubby, placed my boots in and folded his clothes on top. He watched me, smirking the whole time. I tried not to look at his dick. I felt like it was waving at me, trying to get my attention. Behind him, random naked strangers gathered, patting him on the back, telling him how nice it was to finally see him again at a Harvest Fest.

Some of them even wanted to shake my hand. “Great to meet the new Howling Pines beta,” they would say.

“Everyone is so naked,” I said to Mash.

“And you’re not. You’re drawing people’s eyes because you’ve still got all your clothes on.”

I unbuttoned my shirt, folded it, and arranged it on top of Mash’s.

“And the cords too,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, I’ll stand in front of you like this . . .” He stuck his hands on his hips. “So no one sees your ankle spanker.”

My laughter shot out my nostrils. “Fine, fine.” I dropped my trousers, folded them, placed them in the cubby. “Anyone looking?”

“No,” Mash said, though he wasn’t even paying attention. He waved to someone over my shoulder.

I tugged my boxers off.

“See, not so bad, is it?” He smiled at me, his gaze flitted down to my dick and the smile vanished. “Oh my gods!” he cried, and jammed his hand over my junk.

“What the fuck?!” I hissed, then I realised people might be looking.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry. I’m literally touching your cock right now. I’m so sorry.”

“You could just not,” I whispered back. But Mash didn’t remove his hand, and I didn’t want him to. “What’s going on?”

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