Hey all! Here's another orphaned short I don't really know what to do with, so I thought I'd give it to you guys. It's a fun story of succubus corruption, male to female transformation, drunken lust, corruption, and milkings.
*****
Daylight burned away in violets and golds atop the distant mountains. Night began to stretch its long fingers through the forest, blindly groping across the lonely road twisting among the towering trunks. A low wind sighed through, rustling leaves as their colours deepened. The birds fell silent among the eaves, the beasts hunkering down.
Such an instinct stirred in Zane Staffen as he rode down the quiet rode. His black cloak shrouded him, melding him to the night as it wrapped around him. The clip clop of hooves was soon the only sound.
And as darkness grew, so did the glow.
It was an old tavern. It slumped beneath its sloping roof, the timbers melded together under the weight of years. Zane raised his head, his chin rough with unshaven hair. A sign, waving disconsolately in the wind, red paint peeling in strips, declared the inn
The Farmer's Pride
. The windows glowed with a low light, but his was the only horse in the stable. He patted its midnight flank before stepping up to the door and pushing his way inside.
In contrast to the waiting night the inside was warm and cozy. Golden light fell from the hearth and illuminated a small common room of perhaps a dozen tables, gleaming off varnish and bottles ranged along the bar like silent soldiers standing guard. A smell of fine liquor spiced the air and lamps glowed on every table like flames trapped in amber. The bar stretched across the far wall and before the closed door of the kitchen.
A woman stood behind the bar. She was middle aged and her hair was a lustrous black that bounced in curls around a strikingly beautiful face. She was leaning on the counter, a bored pout on her lips, but when he entered she straightened, perking up like a cat hearing the tinkle of a bell.
Zane wouldn't be a man if he didn't notice the curves that stretched her dress. The cloth might have been modest on literally anyone but her, but her breasts strained the front until the deep valley of her cleavage could be seen, the flared skirt baring long legs, riding up shapely hips and a curving rump that begged to be touched and stroked.
"Hello!" she cried, bowing a quick curtsy. "I'm Sherry. Welcome to the
Farmer's Pride
!"
"Zane," he said, taking off his hat. He scanned the room again. "Empty."
She sighed. "You don't have to tell me. It's a little used road. Honestly, I don't know why we keep it running some time."
"It's yours?"
"May as well be. The owner's in the back, but I sort of inherited running it. She's a bit deep in the cups," she said with a knowing look.
Zane nodded slowly and took a seat at the bar. The woman smelled of cinnamon and something a little musky. Not unpleasant, but curious. "Travellers come by often?"
She shrugged, her breasts shifting tantalizingly. "Not really. Suits me alright most nights. But it can get so boring sometimes," she said. "We used to be busier. Very famous for our beer. We have a distillery in the back and I've been trying to get the recipe just right. Bring back the customers."
"That right?" Zane said. "Might try some."
"Great! Let me draw you some of the house blend."
She winked and slipped through the back door. Zane cocked his head, hearing a muffled moan from the other room. The owner, no doubt. After a moment Sherry returned, beaming and with a foaming stein of ale. She plopped it before him. "There you go! Fresh from the taps."
"Thanks," Zane said. He lifted it, taking a sniff, then a sip. It was a smooth beer, warm and creamy as it slid down his throat, and flavoured with a hint of nutmeg. He put down the stein, tongue flicking across his lips.
"Like it?"
"It's good."
She beamed. "So glad you think so!"
Zane nodded, taking another sip. It
was
good. Rich and heady. It seemed even tastier the second time going down. But he resolved not to get drunk. He needed his wits around him yet.
"You've been here long?" he asked.
"Oh not long," she said with an errant wave. "I was hired off the road. Didn't have a home, you know how it is. And a young woman all alone on the highway? Bad people would do all sorts of things to me."
She clasped her hands before her, and Zane noted how her luxurious breasts strained the buttons of her front. He took another drink to soothe the sudden roughness in his throat. "I imagine. Particularly around here."
"Oh?"
"Yes. There's been some... disappearances."
"Really? Oh! Looks like you're empty. Would you like some more?"
Zane glanced down in surprise. His stein was empty. He smacked his lips, wondering when he drank the rest of it. "Yeah. I think I would..."
Sherry beamed and took the mug back into the back. Again the low moan from beyond the oaken door, the girl returning a moment later with the stein once more full and foaming.
"Thanks," Zane said.
"No problem! So people disappeared?"
"A few have," he said. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a medallion. Sherry's eyes widened in wonder at the amulet he laid on the counter, an arrow wrought in shining silver.
"Oh!" she gasped in amazement. "You're a hunter!"
