October 4, 2011

Dax Grey

The look of her face would not leave his mind. Her pale skin, her soft, wide lips, that wary feral glint in her eye. Oh, she boiled his blood right and proper. But she had turned him down, ignored him, the prude. No one ignores Dax Grey.

The moon was full and high in the sky by the time Dax had enough drink in him to do what he meant to do. Earlier that evening he had sniffed out where the little druid bunked in town. Now that his lust was in full force and he had a good bit of whiskey in him he felt it was high time that he took a swing by her room.

He found the building he was after easily enough and drunkenly pushed himself into a sort of stealth. Quietly he moved to the window and peaked in. Ah, there she was in her sheets, glinting in all her pale glory thanks to the light of the moon. Elune smiled nicely on this daughter indeed. He felt his lust peak again and peeled himself away from the sight. Over to the door he went, picking the lock in mock quietness as his hands shook in both anticipation and liquid stupor. Somehow he managed to finish the job without alerting the woman sleeping inside.

He worked his way slowly across the shadowed room, taking care not to bump into what bits of furniture lay about in a decorative fashion. For someone who lives in the woods and must be alert always, this druid is certainly a sound sleeper when you give her a proper bed, Dax thought to himself must by my lucky evening. He grinned a wolfish grin. Patience Daxy old man, don't be botching this one up now. He sidled closer to her bed and took in the sight.

She lay on her back, face leaning on a rather voluptuously stuffed silken pillow, tilting slightly to the left. Her right hand clutched the lavender silken sheets up just between her breasts, left hand laid with slightly curled fingers just in front of her face on the billow. Her breathing was deep, her markings shown like black scars in the silvery moon light; she didn't stir an ounce as he stared at her, with her long pearly hair falling about her bare shoulders.

Suddenly she shifted, rolling her head so that she now leaned to the right. The hand clutching the sheets released its hold and the coverings gently slid down a few inches, exposing a bit more of her soft, naked flesh.

Dax was too hard for words to describe.

He had his mind set on what he planned to do. With his feral juices flowing even faster than before and the whiskey burning hotly in his blood, he went about to do what any man in his right mind shouldn't do. Quietly he stepped back from the bed, shifted out of stealth, and removed his clothing. Moving as a ghost he returned to the bedside and slowly began to pull pack the silken sheets.

The vision he saw nearly made him lose himself. Control man, savor this. He said to himself. Before him lay a work of true beauty. Small, perky breasts rose and fell with each of the druid's sleepy breaths, a thin, toned stomach shone in the light from the window, and a thatch of white hair hid those delicious womanly bits he sought. Feral indeed, lass. Couldn't even trim a bit for ol' Dax now? He was beside himself with lust.

He made his move to mount her. Putting one knee on the bed was the worst mistake Dax Grey had made that evening since hitting the booze and picking the lock on the door. Before he could even swing is other leg over the druid, pinning her down to his will, she shifted into her cat form and lashed out at him. She cut deep marks into his chest and leaped back to the far wall. He howled in surprise and pain. In the fury of the moment he lost control, changing into his Worgen form. Almost instantly he was sobered, but the boozy haze had been replaced by rage.

"You bitch!" He growled, wincing and holding his severely bleeding chest.

"Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in my room?!" She growled back, every word guttural and snarling.

A snide look came over his face as he clutched his chest, observing how the hair on her neck stood on end, how those razor sharp claws that had razed his flesh were still extended. Yes, he frightened the little kitty, cornered her. She was in a fret, and it excited him all the more despite the pain. "I was the one you were eyeballing all night down at the pub. Thought you had a bit of a fancy for me. I had a drink, mulled it over, though I'd join you for a toss in the sack. Why don't you come to Dax, love?"

Despite her terror, she snorted a laugh. "Dax is it? I thought I smelled a dog about you. Hate to disappoint you love, but I don't fuck fleabags."

She crouched back to the wall a bit more as he swaggered a few steps closer to her, still clutching at his bleeding torso with one hand. "Well love, you may not fancy "fleabags" as you put it, but either way ol' Dax will get what he wants. So we can go about this the easy way or the hard way. Personally I fancy a bit of a challenge. Do your worst, savvy?" He tongue lolled over his muzzle for minute before he put on what he undoubtedly thought was a charming, devilish grin. He looked only like a terrifying wolf in heat. "Come love, surely you have something to help Dax out with this craving."

Fury raged through the little druid. Through clenched teeth she replied "Sure, I have something to help you out with that appetite." With a savage roar she sprang at the rogue, teeth bared and claws extended.


Dax Grey woke up bandaged, nearly bled out, and in a jail cell somewhere underground. His head felt as if it was a hot, boiled egg split in two, and as he gingerly touched his scalp through this thick, greasy hair he felt several large welts. He couldn't recall what day it was, how he had gotten to the cell, or really much other than who he was.

He made a move to try and stand up. He was met full on by a searing pain of not only his torso but his groin as well. Dax found that his trousers (When had he last worn them?) had been replaced by a ratty, soft brown pair of cloth pants that were held up by a set of draw strings. Carefully he undid the strings and found his manhood to be bandaged up as much as his chest. Suddenly the drunken evening came rushing back like some kind of fucked up fantasy. The stupor, the lust.

"She gelded me, that fucking bitch!"

"You're lucky that's all she did, lad." A woman's figure stepped out from the shadows. She had the Gilnean lilt to her voice, sassy and smug. "It seems she has made sure you've mounted your last lady."

"Who the fuck are you? Comin' up in here to gloat about this?" He was seething with rage, nearly on the verge of tears.

"Who I am is none of your concern. My purpose here is to make sure you don't get any ideas up in your head about revenge once you get out of the clink." She smiled. Had he still had the proper bits he may have felt that familiar feral twinge in his groin. She was awfully foxy for a not-so-exotic one. Dax loved him some exotic females. Inter-species play, he lived for such an act. "Now shhh. Don't worry love," she said in a soothing voice "I'm here to make sure everything will be alright. I'll make the pain all go away." The mystery woman drew a blade.

Those beady blue eyes opened wide with terror and Dax Grey never again drank another drop of whiskey.


  1. Yes! Feral kitty FTW!

  2. Indeed. Don't mess with a feral kitty. Ever.

    ; )