Redhawk Caldera The lost boys

"Huh," he marvelled, leaning his head down to peer very conspicuously at the space between his legs. There was nothing there now, or well, nothing that wasn't normally there. Certainly not the little monster that had greeted him in the morning. He hadn't been horrified, per se—he knew what his little friend did, but it had never been there to greet him before. The weird longing sensation was still very much there, if subdued. It came to the forefront of his mind as he stared at the empty air where his junk ought to have been, and then he shifted uncomfortably. No wonder they called it a boner. It was like having an extra one.

"What, you mean... Stick it in the chickies? They'll let me?" Nightjar knew a little bit about how sex was supposed to work, but never really understood, perhaps because he was too dense to visualize it and not exactly the most mature wolf in the world. When it came to instinctual things, he was very mature, but otherwise he was still very much a kid. Still, the prospect of ladies suddenly letting him do the things he only experienced in his dreams was decidedly exciting. "Yo, lil' homes!" he called, tilting his head down once more to serenade his privates with the sweet, sweet coaxing of his half-pubescent voice. "Wakie wakie, we got ladies to see!"

He was only a little disappointed when nothing happened. There weren't really any ladies anyway. Unabashedly, he announced, "I d'know how to use it."