The Hunt of a Werewolf
I'\m also deciding to upload a few older stories. Here's a gay furry one-off involving ravenous werewolves and copious amounts of gay sex. It's also got a few Dubcon and Watersports themes
The Hunt of a Werewolf - By Forseti Fox
The night was cold. The moon was full. The russet and golden leaves dangling from their deciduous buttressing rustled with a soft white noise, their presence the only thing preventing the forest from being a soundless void. The soft, earthy scent of spent leaves, wet with dew, hung on the palate as delicately as the leaves themselves once did upon the maples, birches, and oaks. No insect designed to participate in any chorus while the mercury dalianced so close to the thermometer’s freezing point. Though the vernal woodland would not be without a different form of majesty. It wouldn’t have been difficult to be a witness to the rich tapestry of the Milky Way, were there not spotted cumulus clouds drifting in the stratosphere. Would it rain this evening? Not even a well seasoned meteorologist could answer it. The full moon floated ominously, casting a sickly ochre glow whenever finding cover behind a cloud, which happened more often than not.
One could almost find a peace in the stillness and the chill of the nocturnal New England wilderness. Though the odd shadow and creaking of trees may cause a tinge of apprehension in the everyman, nothing in these woods would break a person down and cause them to break into a full sprint.
Or so one might think.
Sebastian the sheep bolted down the dirt hiking trail, winding its way through Mount Abraham in Maine. His lungs were ragged and raw, and perspiration pooled wherever his hydrophobic wooly fur failed to grow, mostly around his face and hands. The poor twenty-year-old ovine was once a passionate outdoorsman, braving many overnight adventures into the New England wilderness. Only yesterday could the ram factually claim that nothing in the night scared him anymore, even when he went on his wilderness excursions alone. This night had changed everything.
Seb had been at a full sprint for around five minutes, though with the seed of panic so firmly planted in the orchard of his brain, and the disorienting nature of a dark, quiet forest in autumn, he wasn’t entirely certain how far away the trailhead was. Once he made it there, it was only a leisurely pawful of meters until he could safely reach the shelter of his rusty pick-up truck, and though the vehicle was older than the sheep, it still had functional locks that would keep out any predator.
But that was miles away, and no matter how optimistic the ovine was of his long distance sprinting skills, there was no world in which he would reach his destination in any reasonable time. After all, Seb had made his way more than ten miles into the wilderness before setting up his meager camp. To make the run back to his vehicle would be a nigh Herculean feat. But he had no choice, he had to abandon his gear and book it as fast as possible. If he slowed his pace by even a single mile-per-hour, his fate would be certainly sealed.
The werewolf would catch up to him.
Sebastian had never believed in lycanthropy. Hell, Sebastian wouldn’t even so much as entertain the thought of a mere ghost haunting. The sheep was a staunch agnostic, and had no room for the metaphysical in his understanding of the world. In addition, pretty much every lupine that Sebastian had ever met had been wonderful, warm mammals, and an absolute delight to be around. And none of them had ever attempted to make a meal out of “a meek sheep.” The ram had been a staunch advocate against speciesism, in fact, and would routinely call out any joke made at any wolf’s expense if said joke indicated that the wolf would eat the sheep. It wasn’t easy, undoing centuries of prejudice woefully weaved by the Brothers Grimm.
But those grim fairytales would actually begin to feel like children’s stories, if Sebastian could survive the evening and tell his tale. It had begun as soon as the sheep was beginning to put out his modest campfire, after enjoying a post-dinner mug of herbal tea; just because you’re roughing it doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself of a nice, hot beverage. The backpacker had just returned from a nearby stream with a pot full of water in order to douse his flame, when he saw a massive, dark shadow dart behind a couple of white spruces. That wasn’t what caused Seb to sprint for his life; feral deer cast shadows that large. It didn’t even inspire a speedy egress when he saw the shadow a second time, causing him to begin training his vision on it. While the sheep’s elongated pupils made it easy to see movement without focusing on anything, it became tricky to actually make out what exactly the shadow could have been, even when it moved into the firelight more, closer to the campsite. Whatever it was made no sound, silently stalking on a forest floor riddled with pine needles, and Sebastian could definitely tell at this point that, whatever this was, it wasn’t a feral deer after all. And it was getting closer.
In fact, it was the wolf’s howl that first inspired Sebastian to run off into the woods.
Sebastian was already a half-dozen meters away from his encampment by the time any semblance of sense returned to his brain. But the sheep made a fatal error. Hazarding a single glance back, he stopped in a panic when he saw the shadow standing behind his campfire. It was an eight-foot-tall, black furred bipedal wolf, muscular enough to compete in heavyweight divisions, should he decide to box. Sebastian had seen wolf bodybuilders before, however, and what truly inspired a sense of sheer fear in the sheep was the wolf’s eyes. Almost shining like a car’s rear brake lights were two red, penetrating predator’s eyes, and they showed no sign that this creature was anything more than a feral animal, despite standing up straight like an anthro. His back was hunched over, much like a hunter does before pouncing. Seb never cared much for old folktales, but he knew at that point that every werewolf descriptor had made its way off of the pages of literature, and onto the encyclopedia that is “the real world.”
The frightened camper could also see a tip of red poking out from the werewolf’s unnaturally enormous, black-furred sheath, which hung above a furry pouch containing two planetary orbs. Despite the being’s obvious feral nature, it was obviously enjoying the hunt at an almost erotic level.
The wolf growled again, stepping closer as fear fastened Sebastian’s hooves to the forest floor. A bassy, chilling growl grew in the wolf’s throat before manifesting into a second, equally chilling howl, and the noise was enough to prompt the ovine into a mad sprint. It was only by sheer luck that Seb found his way to the trail again, instead of blindly scrambling off into the un-trailblazed wilderness. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that his fire was still burning, that his objectively-expensive tent was set up and left to the elements, that he had-
Five minutes into his sprint, Sebastian had realized that he left his phone, wallet, and car keys inside of his tent.
The prey that would have survived an encounter like this would remember their lost possessions and continue their escape, but the sheep made his second fatal error, stopping in his tracks once again. However, the ram had been charging too fast, and as he attempted to slow his pace safely, his left hoof caught in a hole made by some feral animal for his den, prompting him to immediately faceplant in the dewey, muddy dirt. The wind had been completely knocked out of him, which would have been horrible even if he weren’t just running at a full sprint. Haplessly, the ovine rolled to his side and clutched his stomach, trying to breath with great difficulty. Mud and pine needles clung to his clothes and wool, and a throbbing ache had manifested in his left ankle, where he had tripped. It wasn’t bad enough to become a sprain, but the injury had certainly flirted with the concept. The poor backpacker could only writhe there, trying to catch his breath once more as he inhaled the earthy aroma of the forest floor.
A growl was uttered from behind a particularly massive spruce, obscuring Seb’s vision, though no particularly impressive imagination was required to deduce who, or what, uttered it. The full moon had now fully emerged from behind the clouds, and the ram could see it, crawling on all-fours, back arched low in a predator’s position. The werewolf, slowly making its way towards the sniveling sheep.
“P-please, please l-leave me al-alone! P-please!”
In fact, Seb had immediately begun to wet himself as he half-crawled away on his back, soaking his blue jeans in a piss-based cocktail where fear was the chaser. The massive dark wet spot on the sheep’s pants didn’t deter the wolf however. The lupine even crawled closer, sniffing the air with great, audible enthusiasm, almost as though it relished the scent. The humiliated sheep dragged himself through more dirt, even tearing up his flannel on a thorny bush. The werewolf was mere meters away now.
“D-don’t eat me, please! Please!”
He couldn’t stand up. He couldn’t leverage himself for a good kick. All Sebastian could do was cover his face with his wooly arms, now snagged with thorns and dirt.
The werewolf first grabbed a hold of the sheep by his wet crotch, then brought his other massive paw to his muzzle, preventing the panic-stricken sheep from speaking the English tongue, but not preventing him from wordlessly whimpering like a little child. Sebastian had tried pulling the werewolf’s arm away, but it was much like a single person attempting to push a car with the parking brake engaged. He tried kicking a little, but the pain from his ankle prevented Seb from being able to concentrate on making any meaningful connecting hit. Besides, the wolf had pinned down the lower half of the sheep’s body, and while it was only with one paw, it was strong enough to prevent the shivering ovine from pushing back whatsoever. Whimpering, shaking visibly, and with tears coming out of his eyes, Sebastian could do nothing but close his eyes, lie back, and accept his fate.
That’s when the werewolf ripped the sheep's jeans to shreds with a single swipe, revealing white fur now stained yellow slightly. What perhaps came as more of a surprise to the black-furred lycanthrope, however, was the ram’s erect cock at full mast. It wasn’t impressive; long enough, yet thoroughly thin and pencil-esque. Sheep weren’t usually used as models by modern dildo companies. But, besides the wet dampness of urine soaking the entire length, the mythical wolf could almost taste the scent of something else dripping from the tip. The sheep, through his abject terror, had leaked a little pre-cum.
For the sake of all rational thinking, Seb couldn’t figure out the cause of his erection either. He didn’t even notice it until his member was exposed to the cold, night air. With a growl that almost sounded like a menacing laugh, the werewolf brought his muzzle to the very tip, and gave the sheep’s urine-soaked cock a long, deliberate lick, drawing forth a whiney, submissive noise from the sheep, and prompting him to wriggle helplessly while still pinned down by the wolf’s paws.
The time for teasing was over, however, and the lycanthrope swiftly leapt to his digitigrade feet. It grabbed Seb by the ovine’s torso with his muscular, furry left arm, and brought his right arm across of his prey’s neck, putting him in a choke hold. The werewolf was expertly experienced in the art of putting his victims to sleep, or so Seb thought. Though the night made the forest colors difficult to perceive, the sheep could tell that his vision had started to slip into sepia tones, then black-and-white. Though his windpipe wasn’t in danger of being crushed, the ram still fought hard to inhale, and when he could take in a breath, it was rife with the scent of sweat, wet dog, and general predator musk. It wasn’t long before Sebastian had completely succumbed to the sleeper hold, drifting into a soft, furry sea of wolf fur as his consciousness completely gave in.
Sebastian woke up, to his surprise, to find that he wasn’t sitting inside of a werewolf's stomach. Instead, the ashy scent of a snuffed-out campfire filled his nostrils, and the oppressive darkness of the forest returned, with only the soft, hazy-yellow glow of a full moon obscured by clouds able to be registered by the sheep’s feeble, unfocused herbivore eyes. His ankles were still sore, as was his mouth for some odd reason; probably a side effect of vigorous exercise and sudden unconsciousness, but what was stranger was an odd, tight sensation around the mammal’s groin. Whatever it was, though, wasn’t at the forefront of Sebastian’s priorities.
Where most animals would need to rub the sleep out of their eyes and actually take a moment to gain consciousness after falling victim to an induced sleep, Seb knew that he had no time for such luxuries. For whatever reason, the werewolf had spared him, and he needed to take advantage of the situation before the canine knew about his awakening. Even if he was being spared for depraved, sexual reasons, the fact that Seb was alive was all he needed.
But when the sheep tried to silently roll over to his front, he realized that his arms were somehow bound to the front of his body.
More consciousness returned, despite the fact that Seb believed himself to be fully aware. Tight restraints gripped at the ram’s ankles, and it dawned on him that he was feeling more than just the bruises from his fall earlier. It felt as though his ankles were restrained, yet completely spread open, with a long metal bar keeping his legs from closing. Once again, the distraught victim attempted to reach down and feel exactly what was keeping his body splayed in such an odd position, and once again, something restrictive prevented him from doing little more than wriggle on the ground without the ability to pull his arms from his wooly chest. It was almost as though he were wrapped in some sort of weighted blanket.
But that’s when it hit him; he was wrapped up tightly in a straightjacket, his ankles were propped open with a metal spreader bar, and his mouth- Oh! His mouth wasn’t sore for any mere mundane reason. He had been gagged with a simple, silicone ball gag, strapped snuggly around the sheep’s head. Despite there being very little to tether his body to on the forest floor, the assorted bondage gear gave Seb virtually no hope for any meaningful mobility. Lying supine, the sheep could do nothing but leave his exposed tailhole to the cold night air, but that didn’t stop him from rocking back and forth arbitrarily. He was already wet from lying in the damp leaves and wetting himself, a little more dirt couldn’t hurt.
But how exactly did he get tied up like this? It wasn’t as though the predator mind of a primal werewolf had any mental wherewithal towards bondage gear. And where had he even kept all of the restraints in the first place? Despite the oddity-slash-lewdity of the situation, Seb wasn’t nearly curious enough to contemplate it further. He had to make an escape, worm-like as his movements may be.
A more pressing question nagged at the petty prey’s mind, though. Where was the werewolf?
Despite the fact that he was gagged, Seb still made an effort to mitigate every single murmur that threatened to escape his submissive mouth. The one benefit of crawling through forest dirt was that he wouldn’t make too much of a ruckus, especially considering he set up his campsite atop coniferous needles as opposed to acoustic deciduous leaves. He reeked of urine still, but that wouldn’t be any indicator that the ram had woken up. He just needed to be careful, focused, stealthy-
And as soon as he managed to finally flip himself onto his stomach, the metal buckles and clips of the straightjacket rang out in a metallic symphony, cutting clearly into the otherwise silent forest.
Within seconds, the hulking, shadowy figure of the predator had descended upon its prey. Its forepaws gripped tightly onto the sheep’s ankles, and its massive hindpaws pressed firmly into his shoulders. Seb could smell the forest floor on the wolf’s paw pads, only mere centimeters away. There would be no world in which the ovine could pry himself from this press, even without the bondage gear binding his limbs. There was nothing that Sebastian could do besides murmur softly through his gag and wait out the inevitable. The werewolf was definitely horny, but just how long would that horniness last before it devolved into hunger?
Perhaps it wouldn’t take that long at all. Seconds after getting pinned, the sheep felt a hot, wet tongue start lapping at his exposed hole. The werewolf’s muzzle was absolutely drenched with fluid. It was clear that the lupine was salivating at the chance to slather the poor sheep’s backend with spit. Sebastian started murmuring uselessly into his silicone gag once more, but the more the wolf licked, the more the murmurs turned into useless moans. If simply getting hunted earlier was enough to somehow arouse the sheep, receiving a full-on feral rimjob would do the trick much faster. However, where the ram would normally feel his thin, long cock extend itself was a different sensation. The dull tightness that he had noticed before in his crotch began to actively feel tighter, and even his balls began to feel a tug. It didn’t take long for Sebastian to realize that the werewolf had slipped a chastity cage onto the unconscious mammal’s ramhood, and though he had no way of discerning whether or not it was metal or silicone, the sheep could do nothing but aimlessly hump the ground as his cock and balls quickly yearned to be released, throbbing painfully the more the cage interfered with his erection. The fact that the canine was so relentless in his tongue bath didn’t help matters whatsoever.
For a while, the werewolf simply lapped at the sheep’s hole at a breakneck pace, but after a minute of such treatment, he began to switch gears. Holding the sheep down by his neck with a forepaw, the lycanthrope repositioned himself completely, climbing off of the bound mammal in order to approach him from behind. Then, the wolf grabbed his victim by the hips, and pushed his backend towards the direction of his muzzle as hard as he could. The werewolf was attempting to snout-fuck the ram, probing as deeply as he could into the sheep’s hole, and extending his tongue in the process. There was nothing Seb could do but clench, but the further the wolf pushed, the trickier that became. After a bit of stretching, however, the werewolf once again pivoted to a new tactic, only pushing his lower jaw into the sheep’s tailhole, in order to bite at him a bit. The sharp teeth drew more yips than moans from the ovine, but it certainly didn’t refrain from drawing for the latter.
Seb’s cage kept feeling tighter and tighter, and more pre-cum dripped from his humiliating tip the more the werewolf bit him and licked at him. He no longer tried squirming uselessly from his straightjacket at this point, and completely gave in to the rimjob. Minutes of muzzle-fucking felt like years of dubiously-consensual pleasure, and though he still wanted to avoid getting eaten, Seb completely gave into the pleasure of being a werewolf’s chewtoy.
But then the wolf’s maw retreated, and Seb didn’t need to imagine too hard as to what would proceed it.
With his face looking in the opposite direction of the werewolf, the ram couldn’t see exactly what position that the canine would attempt, though doggy-style seemed like the most popular contender. His ass had been used quite thoroughly, and the pointed tip of a dog’s dick would have little trouble penetrating the chewed up hole. It was the werewolf’s knot that made Sebastian sweat; with as large as the dark-furred canine’s body was, the sheep deduced that his knot would make a grapefruit look like a cumquat. With his legs spread completely wide, though, and his arms out of commission as well, nothing was going to stop the inevitable tie. Sebastian closed his eyes and waited.
The sheep’s expectations were subverted, however, when a steady stream of hot, fragrant urine hit his tailhole instead of the werewolf’s cock itself. The overwhelming bitter scent hit the ram’s nostrils immediately, a far more pungent scent than his own piss, still clinging to his legs. There was little doubt as to what the purpose of this humiliating gesture was, the werewolf was marking its prey. No amount of sweat, dirt, or even sheep’s urine could hope to counter the powerful scent of a much more powerful male, and even the sheep’s normally water-resistant wool began to soak up the yellow, bitter fluid. It felt warm in the cold night air, and perhaps even more humiliatingly, the act fed into Sebastian’s arousal. Were it not for his chastity, Seb feared that his cock would throb harder than it ever had before.
But then, the werewolf made its entry into the poor creature’s hole, without ceasing its urinating. The steaming piss warmed his hole, though without a knot to plug its egress, the fluid only served to further make a mess of the ovine’s back end. It was almost as though the lycanthrope were attempting to piss a makeshift lube into Seb’s tailhole, and though it wouldn’t be a particularly lubricating substance, the act wasn’t so much pragmatic as it was embarrassing for the sheep. The wolf continued pissing, soaking the cloth straightjacket as well as the wet dirt below their bodies. Enough urine-soaked mud began to form to penetrate the sheep’s wool and create a mess that would be tricky to get out.
As soon as the werewolf was done marking its omega, though, was when the thrusting began. Though the ram thought that his pissed-on hole was already warm, it didn’t remotely compare to the searing sensation of being spread wide open. It wasn’t as though this was the sheep’s first bout with anal play, but without warm-up, the absolute girth of the thick wolfhood hurt, though it was too big for any clenching or wriggling to deter, especially while stuck in bondage.
Sebastian took a moment to feel just how large his alpha’s package was, and the fact that the wolf didn’t start merely halfway meant that the sheep could feel all ten inches of wolfhood before reaching its hilt. And he was thick, too; easily two-and-a-half inches in diameter at the widest point. Being able to determine these measurements was a tricky feat, however. The muscular wolf was no gentle lover.
And much like most primal predators, the canine thrust fast and hard. Grabbing the sheep’s wet, wooly thighs with its meaty paws, the wolf held tightly onto the bound sheep’s hips, humping away violently at them. Without his arms available to give him any support, Sebastian could do nothing but lay there as his face was pushed down into the soil. The werewolf’s thrusting began at a rate of two thrusts per second, shoving its entire length completely in, then completely out, each time. For being a feral werewolf, the alpha had expert control over his penetration, and although there were a few thrusts where the lycanthrope’s pokey dog cock jabbed violently at the rim of the ship’s hole instead. This only occurred once out of every fifty thrusts, however, and didn’t break up the werewolf’s momentum even slightly. Sebastian even entertained the thought that these jabbing pokes were intentional, and he almost heard a satisfied, growling laugh each time the poor prey elicited a pained yelp.
These rare yelps were in the minority of the sheep’s utterances, however. He was definitely moaning each and every time the wolf sunk his length into the open hole. If his cute noises were any indicator, this rapid, rough sex was relished by the sheep, and though he stil held undertones of abject fear, pleasure had begun to win out. Sebastian was this werewolf’s fleshlight now, and his own, ovine cock throbbed violently in its meek little cage.
In addition, the werewolf had nothing resembling a hair-trigger. Where most canines had trouble lasting over a minute, the lycanthrope persisted in his doggy-style lovemaking for over twice as long, and kept his momentum. Nothing got in the way of the wolf’s long, hard thrusts, and he kept his rapid pace with no difficulty. Sebastian had long since stopped his clenching, and his aching, pulsing hole was now agape enough to greedily devour the canine’s cock with each thrust. His prostate throbbed with a dull glow, getting thoroughly poked twice a second. The sheep had never achieved a paws-free orgasm before, but if his leaky cage was any indicator, tonight would be different. Lost in a dreamy haze of lust, Sebastian felt his twitching member start to betray his rational mind. Despite being the one penetrated, the sheep wouldn’t outlast the canine. Even without a tie, the endless thrusting would soon cause the ram to bust.
Then, the werewolf switched gears. Moving its massive paws up the tiny mammal’s body, the wolf hugged tightly to his upper torso, laying the entirety of its thick-muscled body on top of the sheep, pinning him even further. The scent of sweat and wet dog flooded Seb’s nostrils, and even if its rod wasn’t brutally massaging his prostate, the werewolf’s scent alone might have been enough to drive Seb to orgasm. The canine’s scent wasn’t the only thing about it that was wet, though. Dripping with saliva, the werewolf bit hard on the meek sheep’s left shoulder, easily leaving marks. Sebastian even detected this faint, iron-scented aroma of blood hit the night air. But the painful sensation was nothing but erotic, and an even more painful sensation threatened the other end of Sebastian’s body. Fully hilted, the lycanthrope pushed Seb’s entire body back onto his knot, greedily trying to force the bulb inside of its prey’s abused little hole, with nothing more but a bit of piss and pre as lubricant. The sheep groaned in pain, but could do nothing to stop the knotting, and even fought a little to keep conscious. The werewolf didn’t let up on its love-bite, but stood up once more, still holding tightly onto the bound ram’s body. With gravity on its side, the predatory wolf was able to spread Seb’s eager hole even wider, and after ten seconds of pushing the frail little body onto his knot, the werewolf finally succeeded.
Pop! The knot slid its way into the sheep’s hole, and expanded his ass wider than anything he had taken before. The knot wasn’t the only thing to “pop,” however. Thin streams of white, sticky cum erupted from the sheep’s locked cock, and a satisfied, yet strained moan rang loudly from his gagged mouth. The entire forest was audience to the submissive sheep’s needy growls, but he no longer felt any shame. Sebastian now fully relished the thought of being a werewolf’s breeding bitch.
The lycanthrope had yet to cum, however.
Once again forcing the confined ovine to the floor riddled with fluids and pine needles, the wolf began thrusting his tied member into the sheep’s ass harder and faster. Though Sebastian could tell that a healthy amount of sexual fluid had been leaked into his backend, he knew that it wasn’t nearly enough to constitute a full orgasm. If the cantaloupe-sized knot alone was enough to once again drive the ram to unconsciousness, its rapid thrusting would certainly do the trick. Sebastian once again began to see the night in sepia, and could concentrate on nothing but the sheer pain in his butt. His body was being violently pushed into the floor once more, certainly causing a few bruises despite the wooly buffer, but that absolutely paled in comparison to the stretching of the tie. There was nothing he could do to push the knot out, it spread his insides wide, and ushered a flurry of hot, searing sensations that couldn’t be stopped. The werewolf’s sexual constiution once again proved itself to be otherworldly, for the knotted thrusting had gone on for half of a minute, with no signs of stopping.
Just as unconsciousness threatened once more to fall, Seb felt it; the pulsing, throbbing sensation of a knotted cock spilling its seed. Liters of cum painted the sheep’s innards without any hope of escaping past the enormous knot. If the moon were to once again appear from behind the clouds, Sebastian was certain that he could see a visible bulge; it certainly felt as though his gut was expanding. Throughout the entirety of the tie, the werewolf never once let up on its love-bite, and growled a deep, guttural, passionate growl that truly reminded Sebastian what a predator sounded like. With each pulse of cum shooting into the sheep, the werewolf accompanied it with deep grunts, and its entire body convulsed atop of the sheep’s.
Sebastian’s last thoughts before succumbing to the pain and passing out weren’t thoughts of fear. The sheep never again thought of getting eaten as soon as the knot deflated. The sheep didn’t even think of the inevitable, ardent agony of a seemingly-eternal, half-hour tie. All that the sheep could think of was how happy he was to be a werewolf’s omega, and even if he was eventually discarded and used for more than mere sex, Sebastian would do anything to serve his werewolf master for the rest of his life. The prey finally drifted off to sleep as the werewolf crawled on all-fours to the tent, with nothing keeping the sheep aloft besides the massive cock, fastening the smaller mammal to the werewolf’s belly.
“I don’t know, I was afraid that the bondage gear would, like, break your suspension of disbelief or something.”
“What do you mean, Davey?”
“Well, you wanted me to play a full-on werewolf, but what kind of werewolf remembers to bring bondage stuff while, like, on a rampage?”
Still in a tie, Sebastian, the little spoon, rubbed his paw on his lover’s leg reassuringly. “Did it take you out of the headspace?”
“Oh, not at all! I was just worried it’d take you out of the headspace.”
The sheep giggled a bit, “It was perfectly fine. In my fantasy, I kind of, like, wanted to assume that werewolves weren’t in control, only to find that they were much more conniving and kinky than I thought. It makes sense.”
Davey, a black-furred wolf who actually happened to be a professional bodybuilder, hugged his smaller lover in a tight embrace. “I’m glad, then. This was everything you hoped it would be?”
Even without the sleeping bag, the heat of the two lovers made the tent a comfortable bastion of warmth amidst the cold, nocturnal forest, and Sebastian declared in a sing-songy voice, “You got me to cum in chastity, it was even better than I hoped it would be.”