A Nature God Lyc No Other

Dreams are not uncommon to you. You've spent nights dreaming of the most colourful realities and fantasies imaginable over the years. Marrying into royalty, being rich beyond measure, laying in a field of lavender with no worry to cloud your mind... These were all dreams you would spend even the daytime thinking about. But laying with a winged, humanoid parasite? No, no that was not a dream you had remembered waking up in the morning. In fact, this did not seem like a dream at all. No, this felt like reality. You can feel every scratch of this dead man's talons, the coolness of his chalk-white skin. The sensation of your insides contracting and squirming as he presses himself against you from behind feels too real. This couldn't be a dream.

"Fear not, sweetling." His words echo in your eardrums. His voice is velvety, yet cold; cold, and mysterious like water droplets running down the stalactites of an ancient cavern.

"You are so close. I can hear the blood pumping through your beautiful body. Find me, sweet girl." His amused chuckle sends shivers through your sweating body, chilling your blood. "I need your help, girl. Find me and I will make things clear. You will understand the scale of this newborn war."

War? There was no war. There had not been a war since young King Isambard and Queen Anchoretta of Caranthania had driven the Risen and their creeplings from the land. That was more than thirty ago, however. Before your time. What war could the vampire be referring to?

"You must wake up now, sweetling. Wake up. Wake up!"

The volume and sharpness of the corpse's tone slices cleanly through your dream vision, sending you straight into your wakeful state. With a gasp, you sit bolt upright.

The sky is still dark. The full moon and sprinkle of stars are the only light source for your slowly adapting eyes. You are still at the pebbled beach, the large streams of water gurgle and splash somewhere off to your left. The clouds have collected over the water, shadowing it in almost complete darkness. The light from the moon subtly illuminates the dew-speckled pebbles around you causing them to sparkle in your still sensitive vision. You relax a little, leaning back, feeling the werewolf still there. Its mighty body curled into a loose ball around you, its muscular legs and lower body shielding you from the now chilling breeze blowing down from the North.

Here and now, you realize the state of your clothing. Your top is torn to shreds, hanging loosely from your left shoulder, your breasts almost fully exposed to the cool night air. Your boots are nowhere to be found. Your poor excuse for trousers is also in a sorry state. The seem on your right inner thigh is torn open, revealing your soft fair skin, while the left leg of fabric is completely missing. You can tell by the gentle ache on your tailbone that your ass is completely exposed. You are, in fact, sitting butt-naked on the pebbled beach. Somehow, you are unbothered by the state of your garments. You feel safe for the time being.

Your rational mind convinces you that if the creature had wanted you dead, it would have torn your throat out as soon as it had finished coating your insides with its fertile monster cum. You feel at peace. The sound of the rushing water, the occasional snippet of a night bird's song, the subtle peeper orchestra somewhere in the reeds... You feel closer to nature. This longing to be a part of Mother Nature's gifts was new to you. You have always been the city girl, dreaming of castles, princes, riches, and political power. But now, now you were catching yourself longing for a life in the forests and woods, living in a small cottage or hut amidst the pines, and grasses far far away. The company of animals and woodland creatures sounded so comforting to you now. No more creeping baker's apprentices, no more muddy walks through the streets to the market, no more worry for coin... Life in the green sounded far more attractive now.

But it is now that dread pierces its way into your mind, shattering your thoughts of creeper plant-covered cottages and cozy fireplaces. Had there not been a pair of big, glowing yellow eyes watching you before your vision faded? Had you imagined it? No. You look to your right, in the direction of the forest, with its tall, densely packed pine trees. It was from this direction that those yellow eyes had bored into your soul.

As if on cue, a low rumbling snatches your attention. It's coming from the stream. You turn your head so fast that you feel a painful pop in your neck. You squint while massaging the back of your neck, focusing your vision on the water. The cloud-covered network of streams remains dark and motionless for a moment. Just before you dismiss the sound as a trick of the mind, a large black mass, just a few yards into the water, shifts slightly. The burbling sound of water confirms that there is something very large moving about in the stream. Your eyes further adjust to the darkness as you begin making out the humanoid shape of another werewolf. This one, compared to the one currently sleepily buzzing and sighing behind you, is bigger.

Even in its apparent hunched position, it is clear that its shoulders are broader, its back wider and its legs longer. As if sensing your eyes on its body, it straightens itself up to its full 9.5-foot height before turning its massive shaggy head in your direction. And there they are. Those bright, clever yellow eyes. Like two suns, they burn into your eyes. The urge to look away is strong, but you hold its gaze. It turns around fully, facing you. You take in its shadow-coated form before it drops onto its front paws and begins wading through the dark water. Closer and closer it comes. Although the water almost reaches its elbows and knees, the monster shows no difficulty crossing the gurgling stream. In fact, the water almost seems to part in its wake, desperate to avoid its muscular arms and legs.

After just a few seconds, the creature steps onto the beach. The moonlight now freely beams down onto the freakishly large monster before you. Its wenge wood-coloured fur glosses, the droplets of water clinging to it sparkle with the light of the moon. The pebbles crunch and part under the creature's weight, as it makes its way slowly towards you. A huff and startled snuffle can be heard from behind you as the green-eyed werewolf scrambles to its feet, evidently awoken and spooked by the sound of shifting pebbles. It draws itself up, keeping its head bowed, however. The brown werewolf surveys his smaller comrade, tilting its head. A low guttural grumble from its throat shakes the otherwise peaceful night air. The smaller wolf whinnies and whines, shyly peaking at the larger werewolf, its head still bowed. The brown wolf clacks its jaws once and grumbles again, a harsh sound that unsettles you and causes the hairs on your arms to stand on end.

You realize that these sounds are not random. They are distinct and unique, almost as if the two creatures were trying to speak. The realization hits you like a blow from a battle shield. The sounds were the language of these creatures. A fierce growl tears you back to reality. The brown wolf snarls, its beaming yellow eyes glaring, clacking its jaw menacingly at the green-eyed Lycan. The latter whimpers before turning towards the trees and scampering off, its tail between its legs. You watch it run, before turning back to the brown wolf. Delicate beads of sweat begin forming on your forehead. Dread locks you in its iron grip as you begin imagining what their conversation could have been about. Was the yellow-eyed werewolf angry that your life had been spared? Was he here to correct the other wolf's mistake? How would he dispose of you? Breaking your spine? Severing your head from your shoulders with its dagger-like talons?

As if sensing your fear, the werewolf's expression softens. It once again lowers itself onto all fours before slowly approaching you.

"Be not afraid, little one." A voice says. It didn't come from any particular direction. It seemed to reverberate gently all around you. You instinctively do a little turn, alarmed by the fact that the gruff yet gentle voice seems to surround you from all sides. A light-hearted, almost fatherly chuckle rattles your eardrums as the voice returns.

"Over here, human."

You feel a tug in your mind, automatically pulling your gaze toward the werewolf, as though this time your mind could pinpoint the sound of the voice even though your ears picked up no noise aside from the peeper's concert or the occasional song of night birds.

"My my," the voice says, "still in one piece then. All aside from your clothes, that is."

Embarrassed, you attempt to cover your chest and crotch. The soft chuckle echoes in your head again.

"I apologize for my children's behaviour. They can be, well, quite feral, uncontrollable, at times. Vahiax (Vah-high-axe) is still in development. His mind battles to remain in control when he turns, particularly on nights like these." The werewolf fixes his eyes on the full moon for a moment. There is a look of admiration and wonder in his eyes, like a child watching a deer graze for the first time. He eventually returns his gaze to you, his head tilted to the left, his eyes now twinkling mischievously.

He had once again drawn himself up to his full height, casting long shadows over you. You gulp. You are bewildered, rattled, and unable to speak. How was this creature speaking straight into your mind? Why had he not torn your heart out through your chest? And why, oh why, were you staring at his muscles? You take in his broad shoulders, his tight and muscular chest, and midsection. Your inner voice scolds you for the hundredth time this evening.

You can make out individual muscles, flexing and contorting with each breath he takes. You begin feeling warm, despite the cool night air. His fur moves and sways hypnotically in the evening breeze, reminding you of the long grass on the farms back home. You feel tingles, almost like pins and needles, between your legs. A horrifying idea crosses your mind. Could he read your mind!? Was he listening to your thoughts?! Could he tell that you were strangely turned on by his presence?

"Your heart rate and body temperature are increasing rapidly." The voice says, a smidge of concern in its tone. "You haven't caught a cold, have you?"

The werewolf inhales through his large, glossy nose.

"No, your scent is the same, if a little tainted by Vahiax." The sound of concern is now gone, replaced by the initial warmth and comforting tone.

"Where are my manners? You must be utterly confused. I am Northa." He bows his head, almost like the lords and ladies of Caranthania did when they greeted each other in the streets. You had only visited the city once, but you had observed the respectful behaviour of the noble citizens throughout your stay.

"You must forgive my lack of a real voice. The vocal cords of a werewolf do not allow for common speech." The werewolf said, matter-of-factly. "My heritage does however bless me with the ability to speak straight into your mind's ear."

Heritage? What on earth did that mean? Again, to your horror, the voice speaks as if having read your mind.

"By heritage, I mean my godly parents; Firlia, the Lady of the Night, and Horith, the Shepard." He pauses, allowing you to process things.

Telepathic communication, godly parents... Everything piles into your mind. That combined with the tingling sensation in your nether region was just a sexually frustrated outburst waiting to happen. How stupid, you think to yourself. Stupid wolves with their stupidly tight muscles, glowing eyes, and stupid feral instincts. Damn it all to hell!

"I am sensing that you are frustrated," Northa says, curiously. "I do hope I haven't overwhelmed you. I am, as you can see, not human. I do not understand the way your kind thinks and processes information. Perhaps I can assist you in another manner of comfort."

He steps forward slowly.

"I have been roaming these lands for hundreds of years. I have studied humans in my time. You tend to be quite sensitive, both physically and emotionally." His gaze sweeps over the terrain as if reminiscing about the times he had travelled over the hills and through the forests in the distance. He steps closer still. You can feel the warmth radiating from his large body.

"You, like us werewolves, comfort each other through physical touch. Through hugs? Yes, hugs are what you call them." He now stands but one foot from you. All your fear has washed away. You stare up at his beautifully gleaming yellow eyes.

"Would a hug comfort you, young one?" Northa asks tentatively.

You gawk at him. This 9.5-foot beast, roughly weighing 800 lbs and could probably crush your skull with minimal effort, was offering you a hug.

The shock gradually fades, and your disbelief begins to crumble as his warmth finally envelopes you. His embrace is tight, but not crushing. His fur is soft, not matty like Vahiax's. It is smooth, kempt, and smells, well, like nature. A mixture of mint, lavender, and chamomile. His warmth does not feel like typical body heat. No, it feels more like the heat from the sun on a summer morning or the hot steam produced by rain battering hot stone. It is the kind of warmth that sends you into a lull. Comfortable, at ease, and lazy.

His heat begins building, soaking into your skin. The warmth of your still mostly guilty sexual frustration is fuelled more and more. It isn't long before you feel sweat begin to form on your smooth skin, on your forehead. Fuck! Why are you burning up so much? Why do his muscles feel so good against your body? Flexing underneath his stupidly soft fur. Your mind fogs over. All you can fixate on is how good it felt to be ravaged by Vahaix just a few hours ago. The tingling sensation between your legs spikes. Your body jolts as if struck by lightning.

Northa's soft chuckle greets your mind's ear.

"You seem to be enjoying this much more than you should. Very rarely has someone's scent changed this quickly."

You whimper softly. Fuck! How did he know? Pheromones maybe? You cringe in embarrassment. How were you so easily turned on? And why are these creatures having such a feral effect on you?

"Do not feel ashamed, young one." His voice coos in your head. "You're reacting very normally to this. My energy is very potent and affects humans very heavily."

He places his chin on top of your head, squeezing you a bit harder.

"I did try, you know. I didn't come here with the intention of laying with you. I came here to apologize for my pack's behaviour and they're...unorthodox methods of dealing with your troop."

Your heart is pounding harder now, making your head feel thick. There is a buzzing in your ears, as if hundreds of bees were bouncing off of your eardrums. His scent seems to become more and more potent, filling your mind like smoke. You shudder as flashes of your encounter with Vahaix blitz before your eyes.

"Humans have never bothered us. Nor have we bothered them. For generations, we have lived in each other's lands. Out of sight, out of mind. All until members of my children were being picked off. One by one."

His voice was becoming more throaty, almost hoarse. You could hear the frown on his face. Anger and sorrow for his loss rode the words into your mind, like charging cavalry.

"We knew not why we were being hunted. Only that gangs of men were being gathered to slaughter us with bow and blade. Are our heads exchanged for coin? Are our teeth only worthy of being worn on a string around the neck?"

His questions send a powerful heat wave through your body. Guilt and anger storms inside you. You had not signed up to kill monsters. You were tricked, lied to, and swindled. Never would you have agreed to a trophy hunt.

"But here we are, fighting back." His voice seems to trickle, like bubbling river water, into your thoughts, sending shivers through your sweating, overheated body.

"Death is one thing... kill one man, and 5 more shall take his place. I cannot risk more lives for a futile effort such as that." His voice trails off. "But steal man's most precious and valuable treasures, and they will come crashing down, like loose boulders from the mountain."

Treasures? Your mind attempts to wade through the smoke clouding your thoughts. No, not once had any book on monsters suggested that werewolves hoarded gold.

"Not coin, dear girl." He says, his voice now icy smooth. "You must understand. Their women are what hold them together. Their women are what gives them strength. Their greatest treasure is you."

"You are mothers, sisters, daughters, wives. You are man's rock, his haven. Without you, he will tear himself and his fellow man to shreds. Without you, man does not exist."

His hold on you eases. Your breath has become shallow. Sweat is running down your exposed chest, down your forehead, and down your back. Your eyelids feel heavy. Desire and need have now gripped you, shackled you, bound you. No longer were you questioning your desire for these creatures. Especially not the one towering above you. All you wanted to do was taste him, feel him, and enjoy the pleasure you knew he wanted to give you.

"Once again, I did not come here to bree-... to lay with you." His stammer was not like him. Gods did not stutter. Minor or not.

"But your scent is intoxicating... I cannot resist breathing you in and letting you ruin my mind." His left ear flaps and his tail swishes. You feel the battle raging inside him. You know that once he starts, he will be unable to stop.

"I am fighting, young one. I will not lay a finger on you. No matter how powerful your scent becomes. Your word is what will set me loose." His voice sounds desperate. Strained, as though resisting more vulgar language.

"I will take you to my safe haven. My children will care for you. You will be safe."

This did not sound like something he wanted to do just yet. He was forcing himself to say this, when in reality, his true desires stood right before him, hot and sweating profusely.

You step forward wearily, your legs shaking, struggling to support your weight. Your hand reaches out, your fingers digging into Northa's thigh fur. Your eyes fixate on his furry, oblong-shaped sheath. As your fingers caress his muscular thigh, the sheath begins to split. Like a flower blossoming in spring, the head of his cock begins to reveal itself. He growls softly. Precum drips and leaks from him as more of his cock is revealed, a dark shade of red like the Black Pearl roses growing in the gardens of your village. On and on it grows, inch by inch. He huffs, his ragged breathing turns you on so much, making your pussy throb. Before long, his full 11 inches are on display for you, his apple-sized knot pulsing desperately.

He is not as girthy as Vahiax, but far more defined. You're able to see each vein, each muscle.

You tilt your head up to pierce his glowing sun-like eyes with your own gaze. A smirk crosses your soft face as you gracefully drop to your knees, taking his godly cock into your soft hand.

"Here is my word, Nature God." You say, still smirking up at him. "Show me what this treasure is worth." You whisper, gently licking up the head of his cock.

To be continued...