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Save Point: First Time Lunar Incision

Age Of Worn Bronze

Cleo has long been a friend of the werewolf families, although not necessarily of those who style themselves Hounds, or the far deeper pool of strange and singular creatures which occasionally throws up a true immortal or higher power.

So, every once in a while but not too often, because habit is risk if you live long enough, she makes it a point to visit with the many branches of the families, and drop by some of their ceremonies, and the 'occasions' they hold which always degenerate into a fairly serious level of revelry and bitch-chasing. There are plenty of werewolves and they live a long time, so it all adds up, thereby maintaining her presence and raising a sort of general awareness of her existence. She feels she owes it to their ancestor, to help look after his vast extended brood of unintentional descendants, and help teach them how to party.

Whether they would believe the whole story of their existence, or she could properly tell it, is something of a problem. In the end she has decided to tell them pieces, trusting that for those who matter, it will eventually be enough.

This time, she arrives in a fairly remote community, just after an initiation ceremony such as are still held, sometimes, for those who are deeply of the blood and maintain the very oldest traditions. The initiated is a young female werewolf, who she first sees holding a red rose between her teeth to laughingly counterpoint her dark hair, and whom she is immediately fascinated by. The family are holding a feast of sorts, to celebrate their daughters majority, and so she is welcomed in, offered a seat at the table, and allows herself to be inspired by what is surely some excellent wine, fried thistle hearts and cheese sauce with dried ham, and other unique efforts. As the price of her dinner, she persuades herself into recalling some suitable piece of the past. She senses, however, the young female werewolf watching and listening to her intently the whole time, and she is relieved to find the excuse of rising and going to help carve and serve some more venison, which is never in short supply around werewolves.

She helps with the dishes, the werewolves boiling up a big cauldron of water to clean them in, but is unable to avoid being pressed into staying up late around the fire, having a small metal tankard of the good brandy, and talking about everything. All the time, the young werewolfess, who is now being allowed to stay up late and drink brandy also, pressing her with her eyes.

There is no difficulty finding her a room. The stories get around and so the older werewolves are aware of her tendencies. It's simply a matter of finding a reasonably good-looking young male werewolf and asking if he would mind sharing his room with her and 'paying her some attention'. Which is one of the aspects of her visits that she most enjoys, since the young werewolves are unfailingly obliging and usually very enthusiastic.

The newest incumbent also happens to be very well equipped for the task, as she discovers when she greets him by slipping naked into his bed. There is a brief but enjoyable struggle that ends with the very large and heavy werewolf on top realising just how enjoyable it is, and which parts of him are pressed against which parts of her, a discovery that leads to him leaping completely out of bed.

Cleo hitches the blanket up under her breasts, flicks her hair back and looks at him like a cougar, watching him standing all panting and aroused, as he watches her. "Don't you want me to sleep with you?" she purrs mournfully. "I thought it was all arranged."

"I'm sorry, you surprised me, my lady," says the werewolf guiltily, looking incredibly horny. "Of course I want you to sleep with me.....oh dear."

Cleo obligingly gets up and takes a firm grip on her favourite part of him, by which to lead him back into bed. "Oh, you're big - no, scratch that, you're huge. Make that enormous. You do like me, don't you?"

Having gotten him back into bed with her, she makes careful use of her tongue. He howls gently and incoherently with excitement, and involuntarily comes in her mouth. "Oh damn......oh, oh, oh!"

"Never had one of those before, huh?" asks Cleo, lapping him happily from around her lips. "Don't worry. I just love werewolf cum! I hope you've got more where that came from." Once she's finished licking him clean, she swallows and rubs the side of her muzzle up against him.

"I'm sorry......" begins the werewolf unhappily.

"Don't say that," insists Cleo, her lips swollen, her nipples pointed. "I know you've had the initiation, the old way they do it here, and so I know they've given you a few instructions on how to do it. This is just less calculated and more fun. We're playing a game. Kiss me and touch me, and see what happens. Come on, just like they showed you."

Supplied with an obvious cue, the werewolf gratefully meets her lips, closes his eyes, and lets his hands wander over her body the way instinct and knowledge suggest. She reciprocates with deft fingers and a clever tongue. Soon he moves his mouth to her stiff but pliant nipples, and she makes throaty sounds of deep pleasure and grasps at his haunches firmly.

After a while he is astonished to find that he is nearly ready again. Feeling it, she slides from his grasp, turns herself about sideways, and presses his muzzle into her pussy to distract him. He laps eagerly at her vulva, while for the second time she takes him in her mouth to get him as hard as she can. This time, she is the one who comes early.

Once she is certain, she separates herself from him and lies back comfortably with her legs well spread, so there can be no mistake of intent.

"Come on, fuck me," she smiles.

Unbelievable frustration sets in when the werewolf actually hesitates. "Are you like us? Or more like a human?"

"Find out," grates Cleo, and pulls him impatiently down on top of her.

Once everything has finally been accomplished to her satisfaction, Cleo is content enough to relax and occasionally kiss her new werewolf friend. After a while, it occurs to her that there is a minor detail that she may have forgotten.

"You are aware that I customarily give a small reward to werewolves like yourself, who are kind enough to entertain me?"

"I know I wasn't that good," admits the werewolf shamefacedly, misunderstanding.

"No!" insists Cleo irritatedly. "You just need more practice. I mean, what would you like for your reward? I can get you one of almost anything. Or teach you a valuable secret. I know several small magics which I've picked up over the years. I know lethal combat skills and how to pick up good looking women. All you have to do is ask."

"Tell me why you're offering me this, then."

"I have an outstanding obligation to the werewolf families. Come on, don't waste your chance. There must be something you always wanted. All for free, no catch at all."

"How about you?"

"Everyone says that. You've already had me. Besides, I know you don't mean it. Come on," pleads Cleo, "just tell me."

Suddenly there is a creak of painted wood on wood. Cleo looks around the room with eyes that can see in the dark.

She almost snarls in frustration when she spies the dark haired werewolf girl from earlier, who has just snaked out from concealment under the bed and is looking at her over six nipples worth of breasts, sprawled out gracefully. "I know about your custom," the werewolf girl observes, as Cleo curses herself for her own lack of alertness, whilst knowing at some level that she must have been aware the girl was there, and somehow found it acceptable despite herself.

"I told you before," she finally sighs, "if you want to hear any more stories, you can ask me the next time I visit. Now go away and let us fuck."

"I still don't believe you, you know," admonishes the dark haired werewolf. "You only ever tell parts of the story, not the whole truth."

Cleo is uncomfortably becoming aware that the girl is in fact quite clever, and possibly even worthy of a certain degree of respect. Her stealth skills are certainly impressive.

"You're absolutely right," she replies. "And there's a reason I tell my stories that way. I've lived longer than anyone, and I've seen so many things that I'm no longer sure what the truth is, and it would take far too long to tell even if I knew it for sure."

"You're sleeping with my brother, you know," observes the werewolf girl, painful evading the topic. "Ask her for the truth," she appeals to her brother. "You promised him a reward. Anything he wanted. Surely you're obliged to keep your own word?"

Before Cleo can even try to answer, the brother speaks out first.

"No, I won't ask her. And if she wants to keep the whole of it to herself, I'll support her in that. Leave it alone."

Cleo is astonished by this sudden display of strength. Perhaps her choice was not so wrong, after all.

"I also know that you are very open to all manner of new experiences," comments the dark haired werewolf girl, rebuffed but maneuvering her way to a new line of approach, although she hesitates for just a second, before speaking further. "If I were to maybe let you fuck me, as well as my brother, would you grant me your reward as well?"

It's false confidence, after her initiation of the night before. "You can't be serious," exclaims her brother.

"You did it. Several times, in fact. I enjoyed listening."

"I'd be obliged to stop you, you know."

"Am I to understand," enquires Cleo, testing the waters carefully, "that you would sleep with me for the sake of a story?"

"The whole story," emphasizes the girl. "A t least reasonably complete. The truth insomuch as you actually know it. No questions until afterward, and maybe not even then."

"You really are kind of attractive," admits Cleo. "And it wouldn't be fair if I limited the reward only to male werewolves, would it?"

"Okay, I'll cave," concedes the male werewolf. "Cleo, please tell my sister the whole story. Please. As my reward."

"Yes!!"

"No," disagrees Cleo. "I will not let you waste your reward on someone else. You deserve something properly decent and selfish," she adds, kissing him on the ear. "Anyway, your sister should earn her own reward. But I have a better idea how."

"And what would that be?" asks the werewolf girl cautiously, still bargaining for what she wants.

"I'll explain. Hop up here, on the other side from your brother. And watch out for my tail."

After the sort of complicated adjustments normally associated with such an activity, such as trying to avoid the wet patches where sticky werewolf cum has wiped off on the sheets, both the werewolves find themselves in Cleo's embrace, sitting up comfortably in bed.

"Oh, you're cold. Pull the blanket up around us a bit more. And now my damned tail is hanging out, which it always does. Let me loop it across your legs. Damn, you hardly have any breasts at all do you? If it wasn't for the shadows and you being a werewolf and all, I'd think you were just a kid. But hey, you are the younger sister, right? You need to eat more meat, it'll make you bigger and stronger."

"You sound like my mother, not my lover," complains the female werewolf and then, to her brothers startlement, rests her head on Cleo's breasts. "You'll ruin your own wicked reputation. This is fun."

"Anyway, as I was saying, now that we all have plenty of skin contact, I'll explain. Since you've been all persistent and clever in persuading me to tell you the story, I will. But afterwards you've got to give me what you think it's worth. That way everyone gets something."

"What if I don't think it's worth it?"

"You were willing to let me fuck you for it. Surely you'll keep your own word?" suggests Cleo, murmuring gently into her ear.

"That would be fair," concedes the werewolf girl. "I'll give you what I think it's worth."

"Very well, then, let's get started, boys and girls. This is a long story and I'm afraid that we'll all have to stay up late to get to the end. But it's a grown-up sort of a bedtime story, and so I'm sure you won't mind if you have to come to my bed several days running to reach the climax."

Cleo's voice is beguiling, and she can see them beginning to listen intently. She pauses to yawn, taking a deep, deep breath and showing long cat fangs, to remind them to not to fall asleep too soon. Like children, the werewolves look at her anxiously, visibly begging her not to fall asleep and break the spell, spilling the magic from her mouth.

"This is a long story; and you must stay awake to hear it, and kiss me when my throat becomes dry from the telling. Part of it is my story, and part of it is not, and it is also the place where a number of other stories intersect, some of which have no start, and others of which have no end. The result is by definition incomplete, but in the middle, where all the broken threads cross, there is a hint of something all unexpected. So listen now, as I tell my story, a different history. Like a flat stone skipped across the water, and casting unexpected reflections as it goes. Where the stone finally sinks, as the ripples clear away, this shall be our starting place. Thus, we begin."

~*~

The first werewolfs earliest memories are of the sea, and of being raised on a sailing ship that is different to all the others, the smell of salt always present. Sometimes his mother, who has only one eye from some long ago accident, takes him ashore and they stand on the beach, flipping flat stones at the ocean where they skip off the water instead of sinking, like magic. Her friend, the tall lady, comes along but does not like to participate in the skipping of stones, and keeps looking at the horizon, as though expecting a storm of some kind. They prefer to play in the cabin of the ship, fighting and laughing as one does, bouncing up and down on the bed.

They catch fish a lot, but as mother always tells him, they are not fishermen. They transport cargo and people from place to place, the ultimate aim not so much to turn a profit, as to travel eventually to everywhere. The tall lady keeps telling him that the world is round, but he doesn't believe it, since the ocean is obviously flat. The crew is a little unusual, much as one would expect, since there is guaranteed no return home, but for him home is the ship and so it is always wherever they happen to be. His sister is fascinated by the maps that the tall lady keeps in her desks and tries to track their progress on the cheaper portolans. She can tie every knot he's ever heard of and then some. His mother always says he has to look after her, because there are dangers in this world and enough shorelines to fill any mortal life. Expeditions out onto the land are dangerous, and require care, but mother has a sharp bronze sword, and can heal anything but lost eyes and missing fingers. The tall lady has a heavy curved blade made out of shiny metal like nothing he's ever seen, but she won't let him play with it. There are islands and coral reefs and cliffs, and harbours and storms. He likes the lightning, when there are storms, because it tastes funny, and the rain makes a soothing noise on the deck that makes it easy to sleep. Other people seem to feel that the storms are dangerous, but he knows when they are not in the same way that he knows when there is an iceberg nearby, or when there is something interesting down in the depths below, like the ancient stone buildings they sailed over one time. "You're not an old sea dog, you're a young sea wolf," his mother always jokes when he does something strange, because she seems to rather expect it of him.

Life is in fact turning out quite well, right up until he himself starts to turn, and his horny dreams when lying in the moonlight start to take on an alarmingly physical form. His sister starts to seem worryingly interesting, and he is in fact fantasizing about her at the exact moment when the tall lady catches him out, hand on cock, for several seconds before he can change back. She does not seem particularly surprised.

"We're going to have to find a nice island somewhere for you and your sister to rule," she sighs. "Somewhere with a cool climate, lots of vegetation and game to chase. And good rocks, for lairing in and to build houses with. And a handy continent nearby. Because if you take after your father at all, there are gonna be a hell of a lot of little baby wolves running around just as soon as your desperation overcomes your modesty."