My name is Raoul Aurele. I have spent my entire life wandering from town to village to hamlet, searching for my place in this world. I am pursued and hunted everywhere I go. But...this isn't all that surprising, as people really don't take kindly to une loup-garou; a werewolf.
I was born in the northern parts of France, in a nameless village to unknown parents, and since my first memory, I have been tormented and hated by everyone everywhere. When I was still a teenager, at 18 years of age, a human family took me from my parents and literally kept me as...as a pet.
I was kept in the corner of their small shack, in old rusted chains. If I shifted into my human form, I'd be beaten...and while I was in my wolf form, they taunted and abused me. The mother of the family, she would make use of my tongue for...her own selfish needs. Then there was the father. Forcing me to help him hunt, I was little more than a crude hound to him.
And last, but not least, their daughter. She...was a spoiled girl. Very beautiful, and with a soothing, soft voice, but her personality was that of a siren. She would stroke my back, scratch behind my ears, play with my tail...and then when her parents were not around...her clothing was almost nowhere to be found. She would strip nude the first chance she had, and then she'd push me onto my back, and faster than one could count, she would ride my cock with her insatiable cunt.
It really didn't matter to her whether I came or not...so long as she had multiple orgasms. There were a few times I came as well, but more often than not she rode my dick, and right before I was about to cum, she would be satisfied and leave me, panting, lustful and disappointed.
For several long, miserable years, my life was nothing but what I have described, sexual abuse and forced hunting. Finally, the mother and father were killed in a raid by marauders, and the daughter was taken by the scoundrels to be a slave, I assume. I was ignored, thought to be a large dog, as I did not stand on my hind legs or reveal my fingers.
When they were all gone, I slipped over to the father's corpse and took the key from a pouch at his waist, freeing myself at long last. I stepped outside, looking at the destroyed village with a long sigh.
From then on, my life became one of constant wandering. I would journey through the wilderness, hunting for my food and sleeping in the grass under the stars. Every now and then, on certain occasions, I would come across a village or a town, and usually I would steal some meat, though I once stole a leather kilt which I've worn ever since.
There was one particular day of theft which brought some interesting happenings into my life...
I fled the butchery, escaping the cleaver of the butcher as I carried the raw meat in my mouth, bounding down the street through crowds of villagers. I glanced over my shoulder, turning a corner and dashing off into the trees, up a hill and into the forest.
I didn't stop running until I was miles away, and when I finally did, I sat down against a log, gnawing at the raw meat for a good long while, until there was nothing but a few bones left. Satisfied as far as hunger went, I leaned my head back, listening to the calls of the birds and the soft rush of a nearby stream.
