WARNING: This is a fictional story is about adult males having a good time sexually with various humanoid creatures. It does not imply sexuality of any person living or dead.  Please do not read content that will offend you. If accessing this story causes you to break local laws, please leave now.

Edit note: 1st edit 01 April, 2018

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Claws On My Ass 3


"Stay," my werewolf client commanded me. This guy doesn't like me to talk. I'm just something for him to get off in and powerup. Nothing wrong with being strictly business.

I'm on top, straddling his waist. His dick's deep in me. He always feels like he needs to tell me to stay as if I could move away with him securely anchored in my guts. Once the head of his dick grows to the size of a grapefruit I'm not going anywhere but closer to him if that's possible.

My blindfold is on of course.

He hasn't been by in a while. None if my coworkers know much about him other than he obviously has a wealthy patron if the the gold band encrusted with red rubies he wears on his right upper thigh is any indication. I feel it against my left buttcheek. His first power boost snapped it in two. If he hadn't been high on the boost and feeling good with a swollen dick in something he would of killed someone. Not that these kind need a good reason anyway.

He begins to tremble under me. His knot enlarges. Cum starts filling my collin.

"Lay on side," he commands, nugging and turns me in the direction he wants, careful not to tousle our connection.

He likes us on our side as his cum is pumped up my digestive track. It's easier for him to access when it works its way to my mouth.

His clawed hand rests on my swollen stomach gently messaging. All my werewolves do that.

A red glowing symbol appears in my mind's eye. I'm startled because it looks like a shaping access sigil.

Ever since the Orcs visit several days ago the stone has started to do extra things as if it could anticipate what the client needs. Evidently the symbol has something to do with this guy.

Shrugging my shoulders slightly I focus and pull energy from my inner core. The sigil flared.

A claw gently touches my chin and turns my mouth toward my wereman. His semen is fast approaching. I opened my mouth. His thick long tongue slowly glides in, exploring every surface in my mouth taking his time for his boost.

As his cum reached the back of my throat something switched in both of us. He went rigid. My mouth felt like it morphed into something covering the lower part of his face as if to ensure not a drop of fluid is lost between us as it's forced into him.

His body swelled with added muscle mass. There's his powerup and Images started to flash in my head. Memories.

I'm in a dimly lit room. Hundreds of books on shelves everywhere I look. A small thin man in black robes stands by a table talking to a severed head.

"Who sent you? Why were you poking around my library?"

The head mumbled, "My master heard the Golden Brotherhood is asking about shaping stones. He believes answers can be found here because of your family line."

The man in black hissed. Turned from the table. He waves me to him.

"Give this its body to one of your brothers. Have him burn it in the boiler room. I will not have a fellow necromancer's servant on my lands."

The memory faded then images flash by as if something was being searched for until one memory stayed. I'm in a well lit room. It appears to be the same room but slightly different.

A man sets at a writing table. His profile towards me. To my side are six werewolves in leather armour. I could see a glimpse of gold and red between a gap in their thongs and upper leg pads.

Looking again to the man. He's different than the first one. Same build and his clothes have an antique about them. He puts his writing quill down. Gets up. Walks toward us carrying a book in his hand.

"You are here because you are the best of your brothers. You will breed the next generation as your father's father have for hundreds of years on this estate." He stepped closer.

"St. Adamus directed me to write everything I know regarding the lapideus formator or as you know it, the shaping stone." He held the book out to us.

My body was repulsed by the name. The scent from my brothers told me they were equally repulsed.

"The saint foretells a time when the knowledge shared will be needed. One of your descendants will carry what is in this book on to some unknown future age " He hands the book to the werewolf at the furthest in the line from me."

The memory fades into another.

I'm setting on a wood bench. Looking down at a book. I hear growling. Look up and see werewolves practicing hand to hand combat techniques and longsword play. Pups run by. I watch them and notice I'm in a castle's inner ward. A large one at that.

I look back at the book and open it.

So that man would not be alone the First Saint Adamus mixed creature and humans together. He created many kinds of men from the Great Death of the first world. Adamus' weremen seeded a new beginning, bringing life to the walking dead and shepherd the living who came from the dead.

His name became a fable until the Shaping War marked his reappearance three years before the time of this writing.

At the conclusion of the war St. Adamus directed the Golden Order and the Necromancer Brotherhood to establish protocols to use with Shaping Stones. He also erased memories of those responsible for crimes committed with the stones.

His last directive is within this book.

The following sigils can only be read by the one chosen by the stone since the book will not exist once the last of my wereman has read the contents of it.

The memory of the book filled my mind with sigils of both awe and of terrible things they can unlock.

The werewolf's still connected to me. His tongue slowly lapping up in my mouth his modified cum.

What do I do with this knowledge and why me?

My mouth returns to normal as the semen stops and his tongue does to. From his breathing and relaxed muscles he's fallen a sleep.

This'll give me some time to think as I leisurely suck on his flaccid tongue.