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A Wolf in men’s clothing

The Forgotten Sea always brings in the weirdest crewmates. But years of working together forge strong bonds

“Well, well, well. Guess who’s back!”

“You cannot keep me forever away, Rust! How’s the Captain?”

“Better, no thanks to you? Are you done with your little run, Scamp?”

“I’m done, I’m done! I’ll stay for three or four transits! Is the Captain fine with it?”

“Hmm… He is.”

Standing on the Oogya Citadel’s quay, Rust and an ashy-blond-haired human faced one another. Evidently, the Goblin, Rust, was the smallest of the two. As for the Human, he seemed quite tall for his species, enough to approach elvenkind. However, far from the refined silken clothes employed in the Citadel and the associated Crystalsphere, that human wore an attire more fitting to a barbarian.

Leather and pelt formed the harness covering his shoulder and his pectorals, snuggling his armpits, while the pelt descended as a cape behind him.

For the rest, he wore a leather kilt reinforced and patched up many times, completing his leather boots and the brutish air emanating from that human.

Long braided beard, side-cut hairstyle with braids dropping over his nape and shoulders, darker brown eyes piercing with a glimmer of gold and mischief… There was something peculiar about him. Yet, he was almost expected to be a part of the crew of the Forgotten Sea. The few accustomed in the Oogya Citadel would look at him and guess, while right, the Human belonged to that mismatch of a Spelljammer ship manned by so many species you’d be hard-pressed to find an ounce of normalcy inside.

That was how, with only a bag over his shoulders, Havadr stepped back on deck, saluting the familiar faces while guided to the Goblin’s room and eventually sat down at the table for his contract renewal. That part handled, a quick trip to the Captain’s little garden at the aft, and… Everything was back to normal. Or at least, that was the idea as Havadr sat, with his harness off, on the examination table in B’s office.

“No wounds. No added scars. Nothing. What is it, Havadr? Were you sick during your stay? You missed us?”

“I missed everyone’s quips,” said Havadr, passing and rubbing his forehead. His head throbbed from the parasite’s insertion, feeling how his brain and body still adjusted to the pressure inside his skull. Something that ought to change once the local mage figures out how to replace the Parasites with something less invasive. Anything, even a tattoo, seemed better, at the moment, than to endure the parasite.

But Havadr wasn’t to judge as he took the bottle of painkiller the local Medic, and Bugbear, offered. He grunted, feeling the milky and sirupy liquid down his throat before returning the bottle.

“How is your body reacting to the treatment? Did you find a provider for the Silversilk?”

“I had. There was an alchemist at the Citadel, and I took enough for each trek,” said Havadr, rubbing his shoulder. “Got any in store?”

“We have six liters left. But if we are to go against the flow, we will need five more.”

“Against the flow?”

Havadr frowned and cocked an eyebrow.

For most Spelljammer ships, the flow's natural direction was like a river's current. You could go against the current, but it would greatly slow your journey. It’d make it dangerous, too. Once in the flow, you only had the way forward or back, unless you were fortunate enough to find another ship, and even more fortunate to see a friendly ship.

“Yes, Captain got a request from a local, Syfru. There is a ship lost in the flow, and we will recover the cargo for him.”

“How much for this?”

The Bugbear didn’t answer with words. Instead, he rubbed his index and thumb together in an almost comical way, though Havadr got the memo. A lot. After all, Syfru was the Dragon owning the Citadel, and with the fees he placed on the portals, Syfru was said to sleep on a hoard a thousand times his size.

Enough that Havadr felt wronged whenever he had to throw one hundred gold for a measly entrance fee. Damn scalie bastard.

Still, Havadr nodded and received another flask from the Bugbear. One filled with a silvery liquid. Silversilk. The name was inadequate, but it was a potion made to help with Lycanthropy. You could, with Silversilk, change form and control your lycan form. However, it tasted terrible, and its cost was egregious for a liquid that could be made in bulk by a qualified priest.

Enough for Havadr to frown at the vial and slip it at his waist while he rubbed his knees, feeling a bit sore.

“What’s the crew’s opinion about it?”

“Grim.”

“Grim? That’s a first.”

“The reason is more concrete,” explained B, slipping away but not without readjusting his belt and the leather strapped around his nuts, keeping his oversized genitals up. “We got a new crew member.”

Changing topic. Touchy subject, then.

“A new crew member? What’s that? Another Satyr?”

“No, a Human. Steelhorn. He is fleeing Toril. Does this name ring a bell?”

“Hey, B. I know a bugbear who gives me stupid questions. Rings a bell?”

The Bugbear rolled his eyes, glancing at the ceiling for a second before returning to his curios before he leaned against them, arms crossed.

“I asked in case you knew him. You know how Toril can be,” explained the Bugbear, shrugging. “But you do not know him.”

“No, I don’t,” answered Havadr, jumping from the examination table. Somehow, it felt almost natural to balance on the ship, to feel its artificial gravity pull down. Way better than skipping rocks due to an absence of said gravity or being forced to use illegal enchantment to endure the absurd gravity on some planets.

Here? It was almost tailor-made, which wouldn’t be surprising coming from the captain who sometimes even turned it off for funny moments.

“You knew where Shean is?”

“Hmm? Crew deck.”

“And he hasn’t changed his mind?”

“No,” said the Bugbear, shaking his head with a conniving smile. One that knew what kind of mischief Havadr was already up to. “Go for it, the Captain will like it.”

“He always likes what I do!”

Havadr dusted off his kilt and stepped away, still waving his hand at the Bugbear before leaving him to his study and reading, letting him enjoy the moment of peace before he would have to “host” two horny men inside his balls.

As for Havadr, he was gone and scratching his beard. He could still seek that Steelhorn guy. He wasn’t hearing his voice, so he might be sleeping… But Havadr felt a stir in his kilt… And knew he had something better to attend to on the crew deck. One level down, and Havadr was back to the homey and poorly lit quarter, smelling the faint perfume of mint and rosemary. Tiny must have cleaned the place recently, but it was too bad. Too bad as Havadr skipped past his chest, kept around even when he was on land, and approached one of the few beds still around, amidst the hammocks.

There were only a few who could enjoy a bed, and such was… Shean.

Leonin, big and tall, almost one head taller than Havadr, Shean was one of the oldest crew members and one of the most amiable. It was Shean who helped Havadr adapt to the outside and the Forgotten Sea. It was Shean who counted the tales of his homeworld, as well as the many lands he had visited during his journey across the Phlogiston.

It was also Shean, who, like Havadr, lived many lives as Bard, Barbarian, Muscles for hire, Bouncer, Trader, and then more. He was one of the softest and most enjoyable individuals Havadr had met.

And once more, the Feline was sleeping in the bed, on his belly, with nothing to cover himself but bedsheets. And maybe a red handkerchief around his right wrist.

In the Forgotten Sea, Rape was forbidden.

Again, it was one of the many rules the Captain had instilled to ensure his “meals” were not soiled: no killing, no abuse, no rape. However, if someone had consented to “not controlling the situation”, it was fair game. And sometimes, the Captain loved it when his food was spicier than usual.

Such as now when Havadr started to peel his harness and pelt off. He didn’t make much noise, caring not to wake up anyone around, especially not Shean. The Human’s fingers moved carefully, while his canines glimmered from the small light-rays between the planks.

He wanted it as he kicked his boots off, removed his socks, and wiggled his toes. It felt good to be naked… No, to be allowed to be nude as he desired. Havadr went for his belt, undoing his kilt and letting it drop in a dead silence.

Nobody was awake… Making him almost the only one capable of seeing, witnessing, and admiring the exposed body… A shame, as he was proud of himself. Of his body, of course, as his muscles, chiseled and bulging, were born from years of actions and efforts.

Of his tattoos, each bearing its signification from the runic names etched around his thighs, arms, or even on the right side of his abdomen.

And more significantly, his manhood that sprouted forward, red and uncut.

At around nine inches, it stood beyond the typical length for humans, even from Toril. The spire was wide, with a mushroom-shaped tip, the corona distinctly formed compared to the veiny length… To the veiny underside with its bulging urethra. Oh, no, Havadr was proud of his genitals as he pumped his cock, feeling a bead of precum spurt free only to be caught between the fingers and rubbed all over the length.

From the tip… To the hairy base, with pubic hair he had let grow wild over the last few months, to see if anyone could pick up on the aroma emanating from it. On the other hand, he had kept his testicles clean-shaven to avoid any… Accident like a hair between the teeth. One of the mildest accidents.

A detail.

One that barely echoed through Havadr’s mind as he kept pumping and approaching Shean’s bed. With one cock in hand, the slicking motion of pulled skin acting as a sort of backdrop, Havadr peeled the bedsheet off. He knew he could yank it away, since the Leonin was a deep sleeper.

But there was a ritual, a respect to have, a moment to admire. A moment as that back, as large as a tree trunk, appeared with its soft oily-black coat. Then, the trapezius, tense even on that occasion, then… The glutes. Defined, visible with the little tail nestled between. Lovely gluts that easily filled Havadr’s hands if he so desired. And he desired it as he climbed on the bed, silent, and placed his hands on those firm buttcheeks.

Black as night, round like buns, hard like steel.

That posterior had everything Havadr desired as he took in the musky aroma emanating from between the Leonin’s thighs, on the genitals that were hardly perceptible in the dark, but definitely there.

Yet, Havadr focused on the prize. He rubbed the buns, listening to the Feline’s regular breath. No trouble, no stop. Not even a snore as Havadr leaned in and kissed the right cheek, where he had placed his precum-coated hand.

No other noise as he continued, closer to the rim.

Such a deep sleeper.

Havadr chuckled, sliding his digits between the cheeks, pushing and prying them apart. Sweat accumulated there, caking the strands, but not enough to make the crevice outright swampy… Or disgusting. Or anything close as the Human leaned closer, his breath almost on the hole. And his nose practically brushing, inhaling the salty scent, mixing shaved wood and old ropes. A scent that made the Human lick his lips as he leaned forward and… Kissed in between.

Not outright on the hole, but he kissed the in-between. Then, as he continued, as he pried the cheeks open and readjusted Shean’s legs ever so slightly, he kissed that entrance. Found it there, open and prim, refreshed. As usual, as always. It was almost a ritual for the Feline to clean himself before bed, just so he could be “surprised” by a partner. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have worn that handkerchief.

Shean only divulged this to Havadr, the Captain, and maybe one of the Demons in the cargo hold.

So, only a handful, and no one else dared to do so to the Leonin who could pop their heads off with his bare hands. No one else… To enjoy the flavor, musky and salty, as Havadr kissed the entrance with one hand, prying the left cheek away while he was back stroking… And playing with himself, and sighing against that orifice while its owner was out cold.

Havadr’s mouth met again with the rim, finding it tense but not clenched. Finding it closed, but not outright resisting. And as he kept brushing and kissing the entrance, Havadr was careful not to be too fast… Not to wake Shean up.

Steadily, the ebony rim started to glisten. A lick and a kiss after another, more saliva was applied to it; and Havadr even dared to prod the entrance with his tongue, almost pressing his face between those buns. At the same time, he kept masturbating, the schlick schlick sound practically a constant, and yet nothing unusual on the ship. Finally, as Havadr’s breathed and sighed, he heard a rumble from Shean… And a purr.

But nothing. No movement.

Havadr stopped, almost awaiting to hear the Feline’s words to echo, with that deep raspy voice that belonged only to a man almost past his prime. One voice so deep you’d find it made your body shake from its deep notes when it sang.

But no… No voice, and soon the purr died down while Havadr remained still and half-kneeling on the bed, naked.

Silence. Silence as even Havadr had stopped his masturbation for an instant, keeping to himself before he bent to get something from his Kilt. He scoured the pockets and found the Silversilk, uncorked it, and took one gulp. Only one that was to help him stay in control and for something he had in mind before he put everything back and returned to Shean… Returned to stroking himself lazily until his cock was stiff like a rod and red like a fire. He then wiped his hand on Shean’s thighs, on the soft fur, before he leaned over the Feline. He went on all fours with his arms on either side of the Leonin’s torso, under him.

Even in that posture, Havadr was too small to have his hands further, making the action a tad awkward as he had his cock approach the posterior, press between the cheeks, and… Press against the partially covered entrance.

He didn’t bring lube, but it would be fine with Shean… He had taken worse in his sleep.

And so… Without much more consideration, Havadr pressed the tip against the entrance and… Pushed inside. The orifice resisted, but… As soon the tip was inside, that resistance became a vice grip that held Havadr inside while he lowered his hips, while he inserted an entire inch inside the Feline, whose sole answer was a purr… And a smile.

A smile appeared on the Leonin’s face, as well as that long, coarse tongue licking his lips.

“Hmph… Just like I remembered,” whispered Havadr to himself, biting his lips while he lowered his hips further and felt the hole still resist him… Still slow him down until he had to pull back.

He even pulled away from the hole, finding himself going further down with his hands beside the Feline’s abdominal waist while he pressed his chest and face against Shean’s back. He brushed his nose against the fur, felt how soft it was against his skin, while he shifted his posture and finally aligned himself back with the entrance.

But with a better angle, not to hit the Feline’s prostate too fast or hard.

An angle perfect for Havadr to keep fucking his Partner in crime.

He slipped inside, one inch… Two. This time, it was easier. The hole was still close and tight, but not enough to stop Havadr in his progress. Three, four… The entrance was warm, velvety, something he had almost missed while drifting from country to country.

An entrance, a hole, he would always come back to when he got the opportunity.

A presence he cherished as much as he could.

He sighed, he grunted, he progressed by giving back some ground, only to advance further. Only to dig further into that powerful hole, spreading those cheeks while the Leonin purred like a little engine.

There was some stirring, though Havadr slowed down his progress each time Shean moved.

However, it didn’t take long for Havadr to finally have his groin rubbing with the underside of the Leonin’s tail, to feel the bones poking at his belly while he was fully down, with his arms straining so he wouldn’t merely drop on Shean’s back.

At that moment, Havadr was… Satisfied. Around him, the hole was perfectly snug and warm. It was almost like it begged him to take it, to claim, to stuff it with his nutbatter.

That was then, Havadr then sighed. He breathed almost on the Feline’s ears, watched them twitch. He breathed on that long, luscious mane, kept oiled on every occasion. He breathed in the aroma emanating from the place itself and felt its smell grow… Intense.

Stronger.

Havadr’s canines seemed to grow, to elongate. His chest hair, tufty, was covered by a coarse bush growing all over his belly and pectorals, even on his shoulders. His balls, shaved and clean, were suddenly covered with fur and getting… bigger. Heftier. Going from walnut-sized, if not above, to almost as big as apples. The scrotum almost looked tense before the tuft of ashy blond fur covered it. And… It stopped.

Havadr inhaled again, feeling how his transformation was. He wasn’t… Fully changed. But enough that it would please Shean when he would wake up.

How?

Well, Havadr could already feel his scrotum heat up with the heat and the need to breed. Moreover, he felt how his precum started to drip and drop, to ooze inside and against the hole, smearing it until no place was left untouched or untainted.

A situation that made him smile, grin, and sigh in almost complete silence while he pressed his face against Shean’s mane, inhaling the oily perfume and listening to the Feline’s continuous purr.

That nape was right below, under the strands, only a whisker away. Havadr could bite it, one of his bestial needs was so.

But he retained that humanity, stopping himself from biting and pulling on the nape.

He stopped right as he was about to open his mouth, only to close and clench his jaw while he pulled out, feeling and hearing the amplified slurping noise coming from the hole, trying to tighten.

No air, no excessive sounds… Then, with that same slick noise, Havadr pushed inside. He pushed until his groin met with that posterior.

And returned.

It wasn’t the kind of fucking that would make the beds creak or announce to anyone in the vicinity someone’s was getting fucked. It was slow, tender, calm… Yet driven by need, love, and lust as much as any other situation. Except for the fact that the receiver was fast asleep, purring and barely reacting to the movements inside his hole, except for sometimes gripping the mattress.

Steadily, Havadr pumped and pushed within those velvety depths until his breath became more and more ragged, as sweat poured over his forehead and exposed chest, as his back glistened from the light-rays peering through the planks.

His hips descended and moved with such a regularity, it was akin to a machine… Yet a machine whose muscles started to quiver and tense, from the hamstring to triceps.

An effort that made every part of Havadr bulge as his progression, as his focus, was now on rubbing himself against the inner walls and to reach his orgasm… And maybe to get one from Shean.

The latter part would be more difficult for him.

But the former? He was a breath away, a whisper away, a murmur from… Cumming and ejaculating. Only through grit did he keep himself from reaching for that orgasm, to shoot into the Feline… He desired it, he wanted it, he wanted to stuff Shean’s asshole so much the Feline would be round.

But as he pushed and hit, Havadr was concerned with Shean’s purrings, on listening to their depths, intensity, frequency. A music, a tone, a sound that was perfect to tell if the Leonin was close to his orgasm. And steadily, with a crescendo, Shean was close to.

Not too close, but it was a balancing act in which Havadr… Had become an expert. He knew, had known, had listened. It wasn’t his first time doing this, and he damned hoped this wouldn’t be the last.

A thought that went through his mind as he shifted his angle and adjusted the pressure, the weight, on the Feline’s prostate. On listening to the Cat’s increasing mewling through his purrs, but whose body remained mainly relaxed. The muscles still tensed, especially around the glutes… But the face showed no signs of pain or dissatisfaction, nothing on that nose, whiskers, or lips that showed Shean was about to woke up.

Then… The momento changed.

Pressure. Steady. Slowly. Caressing. Stroking. It was all there on the prostate as Havadr bit his lips and shook his head, feeling the mane growing over his back as his instincts were coming to a close. He fought the transformation, slowed it, but it would soon come as his upper arms were starting to grow and darken from the brown fur over them.

Then, there was the protrusion at the end of his spine, growing and extending, getting from a skinny appendage to a tail that was getting fluffier and bigger.

He fought, orgasm and change, as his cock was burning and his testicles heavier… Way heavier, too heavy for his mind and body.

“Hhh… Feel it, Shean,” whispered Havadr right into the Feline’s ears, knowing the words would echo but nothing more. Only a brutal shock could stir Shean from his sleep… And he used none of it as he dropped, as he let his body relax and let that shot come through.

A sigh, a groan, his entire body pressed on Shean’s back and posterior while Havadr’s legs creaked and shifted, breaking and reshaping for his new walking stance.

But this change was nothing as the Werewolf was blissful and cumming.

Cumming his brain out. Cumming everything he had.

And in return, Shean’s belly bulged when watched from the side. The Leonin seemed not to react, but Havadr was cumming so much, his cock felt like a hose and burning at the tip. Burning not only from his orgasm as his thick fluids were ushered deeper due to the pressure, erasing any traces of abdominal muscles to leave instead a bloated and almost round belly.

But it burned, his cock burned, from the change as blood rushed to it and it throbbed to get bigger, larger, and finally to form a bulge near its base, near the changing skin. The bulge grew, with blood rushing inside and interlinked to the veins underneath the skin. And as that bulge grew, forming two bumps, Havadr’s knot fully formed. But inside Shean.

He didn’t have to fuck the Feline and then force that knot inside.

He only had to fuck, cum, and transform… An action he did as his body kept bulging and growing, reaching the Leonin’s height and even one head more before Havadr was fully shifted with a white and brown coat, covering his belly and back respectively.

There, it stopped.

The movements, the groans, the heaving breaths. Even the purrings, though they were the last to die down in the crew quarters.

Remained then the silence of the boat naturally creaking, of distant footsteps and laughter, of unfiltered thoughts shared by the Illithid parasites lodged in everyone’s head.

Silence had returned to the quarters… Although the air, carrying the smell of rosemary and mint before, was heavy with the bestial and canine musk, with the scent of sex and cum… Of needs.

As for Havadr, tired and satisfied, he remained lodged inside the Leonin, enjoying how the velvety walls were still squeezing and massaging his sensitive shaft, his balls nestled against the plump cheeks… But if those legs had been spread wider, they would have been dripping into a mess of cum and precum from Shean.

The Leonin had cum, certainly, as his hidden cock and balls were kept between the thighs… But the scent of cum was strong and the mattress drippy with fluids. That was certain, as much as Shean smiled in his sleep despite the belly he sported. Almost round, almost bulging, and yet… Only a portion of what Havadr could produce, only a preview of what the Werewolf could do once fully transformed. But it was the maximum Havadr could offer to get that belly round without awakening the purring Leonin underneath him.

Locked and interlocked, Havadr looked around, smelling the air, catching the familiar scent of friends and partners he had grown to miss. His golden eyes went around… Then, he licked Shean’s right ear, a token of affection, before he closed his eyes, feeling the calm and exhaustion from his last hours seep into him.

A sound and calm sleep, joyful, as he was back against someone’s warm body, finding the bed comfortable even if it was someone else’s, drenched with fluids and his cock stuck.

A peaceful sleep stopped by a hand stroking Havadr’s muzzle, poking and booping that nose.

“Welcome back, Havadr.”