Pleasure yourself

With all the dangerous facing you in the world it's nice to relax for a moment beneath your heavy blanket and let your mind wanter to fantasies of Scars touching you.

You've seen pricks only a few times in your day, mostly town drunks and the like wandering around, but you picture a fabulous shaft of rigid meat capped with a perfect mushroom head that is purple with arousal. In your fantasy you are in a sunlit tower, your body naked beneath clining veils of sheer fabric. Scars is nude, rigid, he comes to you and lays you down.

As you fantasize about his touch and his kiss your fingers tease the downy mound of your pussy. You find the hard bud you know is your clit and you stroke it deftly, imagining your hand belongs to Scars and he is powerful and yet gentle. You squirm against your hand, thrusting two fingers within your honeyed slit as you imagine Scars now kneeling between your legs, entering you for the first time. You arch your back and moan softly, thrust your fingers as you imagine a man would his cock. Your free hand goes to your breast and you tease your nipple, imagining Scars leaning his head down and tickling you with his tongue.

You are right at the brink of orgasm, the heat of your climax growing towards an explosion, your fingers slurping into your incredibly juicy pussy, when you hear a snap. You gasp, your heart almost stopping, and you sit up, the blanket falling away from you to reveal your one bared breast to the cold of the night air.

"Scars!" you whisper. "Scars, wake up!"

You look over to where Scars was sleeping beside you and in horror you realize that he is no longer there. His clothes lay beside his bedroll and his sword and boots are there as well, but there is no sign of the half-elf.

You try to still your breathing. You can hear something moving in the woods beyond. You reach your juice-coated fingers out past the blanket and wrap your hand around the pommel of your shortsword. There! Red eyes glowing in the darkness of the nearby woods. Your hand trembles as you clutch the sword to your chest.

There is another snapping of underbrush and the red eyes grow larger. A massive beast, big as man, strides into the camp. It is like a wolf, but much larger, its fur wild and its jaws dripping with saliva. You try to quiet the beating of your heart as it comes closer. It growls, but it has stopped on the other side of the fire. It's sniffing at the remains of the cooked rabbit.

You notice an odd detail about the beast. The fur on its face is marked by two long patches of baldness and two pink lines of scar tissue. Whatever this beast got into a fight with must have been the same thing that attacked Scars or...no...it can't be. The rabbit bones snap in the creature's jaws and it retreats into disappears in a single bound into the woods. Could this creature be Scars? This dire wolf of a beast? Could he be cursed with lycanthropy?

The next morning Scars emerges, naked, from the woods confirming your suspicion. You marvel at the size of his flaccid prick, dangling from between his legs, but you close your eyes before he can see you are awake. You pretend to be asleep as he carries over a brace of dead rabbits and squirrels and lays them beside his pack. He looks at you beneath your blanket as he dresses.

You resume your travel the next day and you wonder if you should say something to him about all this.

"We'll reach the foothills by midday and have to decide our way going forward," Scars says after a hard day's travel. "I'll fix us some food and we can get some sleep. Decide in the morning."

You stare at him, at the pattern of scars on his face.

"What is it?" he asks.

Perhaps you should confront him with what you suspect. Or perphaps you should wait and see what happens tonight. You could follow him into the woods and see if he transforms. Then again, that could be a foolish thing to do if his animal form is not of the same mind as the man.