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Dorn smut	By : CoronaB Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 133 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dorn intellectual property nor make any money from it.

Chapter List
- 1-The fields of Argos
- 1
I was on watch, guarding our cosy tent circle against the Dark Lord Zorkal's minions. I was bored. Most of the time they didn't dare attack in the open, anyway. I longed to go to the nearby forest and catch a tasty squirrel or two.

A quiet noise suddenly tickled my ears. No enemies in sight. Did the gods grant my wishes and send me some meat? I scanned the ground for animals. The rustle was heard again, this time closer. I picked up my bow and straightened my quiver. A low growl came from behind me. One of the tents was shaking. Damn! Did some creature slip through to strangle my friends? Impossible, a struggle was louder than this, and this was distinctly an animal call, not a shriek of pain or effort.

I neared the tent quietly. The one to the left of the gap, it was Vargen's. A robust, hairy man. Good-natured to the point of having a rather bland personality. I was about to look inside, when a unpleasant thought stopped me. Was he masturbating? Ew. I mean, I don't judge him for it, this mission is taking ages and nobody is having sex here, not after ten hours of putting Zorkal's servants back in their graves, covered in rat bites everywhere below the knees. But I definitely don't want to see it. His dick is probably hairy like the rest of him.

Trying to clear that image from my head, I straightened up and looked at the beautiful night sky. Even though we were in a decidedly rural region - Zorkal for all his pretensions was a villain of local power and ambitions - the stars weren't so easy to make out tonight, for some reason. In the east, the full moon overshadowed them. The full moon... there was something about it that I'd forgotten.

No. That couldn't be it. Why now? Why me? Vargen, when he introduced himself, mentioned he didn't like silver plates. A well-known code word for being a werewolf. With an undertone of wink wink, please don't report me to the authorities. The tent fabric apparently provided no protection from the shining plate in the sky. I watched, frozen, as the tent in front of me swelled and ruptured. From its remnants emerged a large black specimen of Homo lupus.

I had no time to note anything else about him except for the size, as my brain shifted to thinking about survival automatically. It was pretty bad. I was in some danger, but more importantly - everyone else was sleeping soundly, and they were about to get mauled by this beast. I had to distract him. I jumped away from the tents and as the wolf tried to get his bearings, I readied and shot an arrow, just scratching his skin on purpose. That got his attention for sure. He looked at me, but he was not spooked like a real wolf would be. He was angry and lusted for blood. I couldn't make out if there was foam drooling from his mouth, but it would've been a suitable detail.

Being a ranger, I knew werevolves did not understand human language, so I didn't try. Instead I bared my teeth at him, kicked dirt at him and waved my arms menacingly. It worked. He ignored the sleeping morsels around him and took off toward me. I ran. The direction didn't matter, just away from the camp. I tried to look ahead and pick out terrain not suited for wolf paws - with gaps and bumps at a scale that a human foot would bridge them, but a paw might get stuck. Otherwise the race was entirely unfair. He had twice as many legs, and hadn't just spent time awake on watch.

Field, stream, hillock, mud. The earth passed below me at an amazing speed. We were far enough away now, but I couldn't stop running, or the wolf would crash into me almost immediately. The night was entirely still except for our ragged breathing. Shit! I tripped on something. As I flew through the air, I was already thinking about what I should do next. Fighting him would be highly chancy, even without considering that if I got the upper hand, I didn't want to seriously hurt one of my companions, dubious as he was. Clearly I couldn't escape him. Damn it, I really ought to know how to calm an animal down... I met the ground, incurring just a few scrapes.

Across my shoulder I caught sight of the wolf coming toward me in slow motion. His eyes looked evil. He wants to eat me, I thought. What is stronger in an animal than hunger? Not much. As I thought about getting up to mount a desperate fight, I noticed the strange position I landed in. My head nearly on the ground, my ass up toward the wolf - of course, since I was running away, not toward. This would make reverting to a fighting stance rather difficult, but it was a ...culturally significant position. That's what the rowdy guys said in taverns. I'll put her head down, ass up.

And its meaning was not limited just to humans or elves. Most mammals had sex like this, with the female on all fours. Sex! That was sure to distract the wolf from eating me or anyone else. I almost congratulated myself on the brilliant plan before I realized what it would entail, in horror. I. I had to act fast, or I would be dead meat regardless. I dropped down onto my head and chest and reached behind with my arms to pull down my trousers and underwear in one go.

The idle night breeze touched my backside. Trying to suppress my heart ringing an alarm bell, I angled my back further. I grabbed my buttocks and spread them. So that he'd see. It was unreal, something you only hear of in tall tales about ancient rituals. I was spreading my clam for all the gods in the wide heaven to see. I prayed to them for forgiveness.

I tilted my head in the dirt. It was hard to see what was going on behind me. The wolf seemed to make a mock charge and then stopped, surprised that I was motionless. He walked to one side then to the other, in and out of my view, indecisive. I couldn't do anything but await his judgement, at this point, with trousers around my knees, it was too late to fight. There was something important I had forgotten to give thought to earlier: Vargen had recognize me as a female of his species, even in his wolf form. As a wolf, you aren't chivalrous to lynx, jackal or human females.

His very soft steps neared. I felt the breeze on my exposed rear anew, and shivered. No. It was the wolf's breath. It was warm, and it periodically hit my crotch in one spot and then spread outward. My own breath quickened. He was close enough to bite off one of my cheeks. He, however, did no such thing, instead preferring to smell the most embarrasing area of my body thoroughly. His cold nose brushed against me a few times. I recoiled, and he gave it up, thankfully.

But there was a period of nothing after that. Perhaps he got confused and I had an opening to run after all? I craned my neck just in time to see him rearing up and planting his paws on my shoulders. I let out a grunt. They were soft, but clawed and with weight behind them. Then I caught sight of Vargen's member. It was red and had a sharper tip than a man's. Not huge, but dangerous-looking. Clearly, he was sufficiently aroused. I had second thoughts about all of this and let go of the buttocks I forgot I was spreading and cupped my crotch protectively.

He had had enough excitement, right? I pleaded. The wolf responded only by trying to insert a few times. He got frustrated. He shook angrily, ripping the skin of my shoulders to shreds and letting his drool drip onto me, as if to humiliate me further. For my part I shed tears on the ground. Vargen was not entirely dumb despite his current disposition; he figured out what was keeping him from entering paradise on earth and swiftly removed it. That is to say, he swatted my arm away with force. I raised my arm again and again, but he just hurt it more every time until it was powerlessly lying in the grass, covered in purple bruises.

There was no recourse left but to brace myself for the worst. However, as he grunted, his member slid away from my folds. One thrust later it bumped into my left buttock. If it's going to come, let it come now! This is torture! What felt like a dozen attempts later I yelped and suddenly wished for the opposite. The tip got inside. I was not a virgin, but I had not had a man in a long time. Without hesitation Vargen rammed into me and I was launched forward. "AAAA-!" He pulled back slightly and hammered me again. Impossible as it may seem, it was like his meatrod was moving forward two inches in me for every inch it moved back. I cried out until my tears dried out and my voice grew hoarse. Did I do something to deserve this? Was I rude to my friends? I knew I shouldn't have pinched that bread from the rude bakers', gods forgive me...

The tip of his cock kissed my cervix's puckered lips. I emitted a low drawl like a copulating wolf female. It should hurt, it does hurt. I can't possibly enjoy it. Aah, I'm losing my mind here. I just need to end it somehow. End the weariness and hurt. I acted in a haze, searching with my fingers for my cunt's knob thoughtlessly. Finding it, I pinched it lightly and a heat radiated through my insides, taking away some of the wear and tear inflicted by the still rampaging werewolf, as if it were magic. I couldn't stop myself anymore. Mother, father, forgive me, I'm a good for nothing daughter that's going to commit bestiality, knowingly.

I sighed as I rubbed, twisted and caressed just a few grains of length away from his dirty pistoning cock. In fact, it grazed my fingers a few times, and I felt pure power emanating from it. My opening tightened around it, without regard for the hurt this caused me, to steal more of this power for itself. The world around me became covered in a white veil, and my soul left my body for heaven. A while later, I came to myself, though still in an eerie mood. Vargen did not know or care for my experience, and was still pounding away at my weathered behind. But he did it irregularly now. A sign that he's going to finish soon. I yelled anew, and tried to kick him, but in vain. I don't want to bear a werewolf baby! Anywhere but there!

At this stage, even a human man probably wouldn't have pulled out. A few moments later, I felt his seed, I imagined it was black like his fur, splash on my guts. Panic fully returned to me. What will I do? Wash it out for sure, but if it was this easy, nobody would get pregnant. I'll need to visit the hoary witch and ask for medicine. As I planned for the future, I realized I was alone, lying there with my butt up like a fool. I slowly reestablished control of my numb limbs and stood up. Vargen had fallen unconscious or asleep onto his back, still in wolf form - although I preferred to think of him as a man now, to reconcile what we had done. My head spun a little from standing up after such a long time. Looking down, half-dried streams of sweat mixed with some blood and seed were running down my legs. A lovely musky stench.

I stepped out of my trousers and started thinking about cleaning up. There was a river nearby where I could wash. I still had an hour of watch left, I could return to camp with nobody the wiser for it. As for Vargen. When werevolves transform involuntarily like this, they largely do not remember their experience, I hoped I remembered correctly from my training. We both had struggle marks on our bodies but those can be explained by separate encounters with boars or something. He would wake up in the morning and return on his own. Naked in human form, yes, but I was rather disinclined to feel sorry for him. I laughed dryly and kicked him lightly. Then I saw it. He, obviously, had some seed on his crotch and thighs. My smile froze on my face. How would you explain this? It could be said he had mated with a she-wolf, but we haven't seen a single wolf around these parts. It's possible the others would accept it, it's doubtful the wizard would have noticed a pack of hundred, walking with his nose so deep into a book, but no. It's not worth the risk, if this came out I would be done for.

As I went back on all fours, this time looming over him, I assured myself that I had no choice. The river was not close enough and I was not strong enough to carry him there to wash him off. I closed my eyes, then opened them once I realized not having any idea of what or where I would be licking was even worse than having a close up view of male wolf anatomy. I started with the thighs. Some would consider licking them revolting, I had bitten into animal skin countless times when I cleaned and cured it. That did not mean I was ready for the taste of come. It was sour and of gelatinous consistency, as the juice of some exotic fruit. I only had to taste little of it until I had cleaned everything except the genitalia proper, however.

I stared at the thing which had violated me. Half-limp and not in action, it looked less menacing and more clownishly sad. Yet, I was about to serve it again. I scooped up the drops about to drip with my tongue. Why won't anyone feel pity for poor Vargen and his debilitating condition? The condition that makes pretty girls suck him off? I enveloped his member with my mouth and started gulping down all of the juice. The condition that makes people hate him for things he doesn't remember? I cleaned inside the fold of his foreskin with the tip of my tongue. He told me that before all of this he had a family. Next I targeted his hairy ballsack. A pretty wife with the longest brunette hair, and lovely baby twins. As I licked it down I felt like I was casting off my womanhood and reclaiming it at the same time. One quiet night, his wife was visiting her parents.

Having done all there was to do, I rose to my feet and started staggering toward the river. That night, a monster assaulted their village. I left my clothes on the riverbank and went in. The monster broke down walls, smashed pots, but an alarm was sounded and nobody was hurt. I sat down, immersing myself up to the chest in the chilly water. Nobody was hurt, except for the twins, who could not run; one of them was blinded by the sweep of a claw, and the other suffered a grievous wound as well. The water carried away the filth on my body and mind. Vargen and his wife were overcome with grief; he joined the search for the monster. I stuck my fingers in my cunt to dredge out his seed, intentionally using rough, clumsy movements so as to avoid inappropriately reawakening any feelings.

In the end, Vargen found the monster was himself. The village, including his wife, wished death on him, and he would accept it, but for the witcher Ragnar, who saved him and made him recognize he could still do good in this world as a werewolf. I had to admit he hadn't been wrong, even taking into account the recent incident. Vargen eagerly protected and helped out regular people. As a wolf, he had slain countless monsters.

But what consolation would that be for me? I brought my head between my knees. The river's cold stung my flesh, but I viewed it as appropriate penance for having enjoyed that. I knew everyone would tell me not to blame myself, but at the same time, I was not entirely without choice. I could have made a stand, sacrificing myself if necessary. I could have realized what was going on faster and woken up the others. I could have endured it without pleasuring myself. I was in shock, but a part of me also liked what happened. I had to punish myself to prevent that part from taking over.

I woke up. I had ordered my thoughts, cleaned my clothes in the river and returned to the camp. Finally, after the night that seemed so long, I felt pure. I was wearing trousers like a normal human. Vargen showed up around noon, dishevelled and red-faced, but none the worse for wear. He apologized profusely for endangering us. I came up with with the suggestion that I could tie him to a bed and watch over him the next full moon. I got greedy and thought I could, this time, maybe have my way with him.

Four weeks later, I stare as Vargen easily snaps the leather straps I've procured one by one. I barricade the door of the inn room we're in, and turn around just in time to see him standing free. His long tongue dangles lewdly from his mouth and there's something growing under his belly. I bite my lip. Fuck me.
- 1
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