1. Cyarine- Part 1

    Date: 10/24/2017, Categories: Fiction, Domination / Submission, Straight Sex, Monster, Reluctance, Spanking, Written by women, Author: Leyulf, Source: sexstories.com

    If you have nothing better to do than to read the ramblings of a halfling, you're probably a human. I'm not saying that's a bad thing! No. In fact, I envy you, kid. Humans seem to have it so much easier... Aside from the fact that you guys are an endangered species and don't even seem to know it. It's ok, though. I didn't know either until I had my eyes opened- quite brutally if I might add. It's not hard to live your lives oblivious to the fact that your boss eats hearts, or your son's preppy babysitter is actually a 400 year old Succubus. Our kind blend in seamlessly, though it's more like your kind simply exsist in your world. Now, when I say 'Our kind', I mean the long list of beasties that go bump in the night- Vampires, werewolves, wendigos, gargoyles, witches- you name it, it probably exists. Now, I don't like to classify myself with them all. They don't really even know of my kind, because my kind are the chameleons of the world. Our speciality is disappearing, and never being found. I'm a shapeshifter, or a skin walker. I'm sure there's a ton of other names, but you get the idea. Skinwalkers can turn into just about anything- other humans, animals, objects, heck even mythical creatures from storybooks if they wanted to. Do note I didn't say I myself could, though. I'm too much of a secluded, normal person, and I've never gotten strong enough to turn into much more than the usual humans and animals. Not that I could turn into anything at the moment, though. I ... learned recently that getting bitten by a werewolf means I absorb lycanthropy. Not permanently, but in this case, for long enough that I was experiencing this God awful thing called Heat. I'd read about the whole thing before- a cycle female wolves go through once every few months or so where they don't just feel the need to fuck anything that moved. No. They need to BREED. I've never been fond of werewolves. They were standoffish and territorial and I never understood them, but now I was developing a deep respect for the women who had to go through this often. This was a burning need between my legs and a wanton feeling to spread my legs to the first man I could pounce on. The burning only grew worse the more I fought it, but I was keeping it down with tooth and claw. Being a shifer, my first instinct when faced with something so stressful would be to shift into something or someone new and disappear. That wasn't an option here, though. I was stranded in the human form I'd been in when I'd been bit and I don't think changing my skin would shake the thick, "come here and fuck me" scent that was rolling off of me in waves, and seemed to be attracting every male werewolf in the city. Had I known that that was exactly what was happening, I wouldn't have left the cramped comfort of my apartment this morning. But no, I'd gone out and spread my scent all over the streets from my home to my job and everywhere in between. I'd been scurrying left and right, avoiding the hungry stares that ...