John Soap Mactavish

A shiver ran down your spine as your feet moved slowly up to the entrance of a popular haunted house in the area. You’d never considered yourself one to get scared easily— at least, not by things as childish as scare actors. But, something about tonight had your heart racing. You could feel the hot blood rushing through your veins.

Of course, your trepidation showed on your face. Your mind was lost in a mist and you found yourself drowning in a blur of second-thoughts. Your foot slid back, half-prepared to turn tail and walk back to your car until you felt your back slam against a far firmer figure.

You whirred around in shock, looking up as your eyes met a more curious pair, clearly a scare actor—and dressed as a werewolf by the looks of it. Electric blue eyes bore down into you, the man’s pupils slit like. Your gaze flicked over his figure just briefly. Noting the torn flannel that just barely covered a toned physique, the fake blood splattered on him.

“Yer a right jumpy one, arent ye? Ah promise my friends don’t bite,” He ushered, fully in character it seemed as he placed a hand on your back, a firm pressure guiding you up the stairs to the haunted mansion.

“Dinnae work yerself up, ah promise we don’t bite,” He growled out, voice rough and deep, yet smooth as honey.

Before you knew it, you were being pushed into the darkness of the entrance, and before you had a chance to look back, you were swept into the experience, being pushed forward by another actor.

The entire ordeal of going through the long halls of the home had been thrilling. It was terrifying to say the least, but you found yourself stumbling out of the experience laughing. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you momentarily glanced around, eyes roaming the nearby woods, startling close to the attraction itself.

You found yourself almost drawn by them. As if there was something enchanting about the darkness between those tall trees. You’d nearly taken a step toward them when you felt a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Ye made it out alive, ah see?” That familiar scottish rumble piped up from behind you, “Not safe to risk wandering off into the woods alone, but if you’re so curious, I’d be happy to give you a tour,” he chimed out, shooting you a fanged grin, “Maybe we get to know each other a bit more along the way?”

You were hesitant at first, but before you knew it, you were being led through a dimly lit trail, this scare actor by your side. Sure, it probably wasn’t your smartest idea, but you’d be damned if you didn’t give into your curiosity at least once in a while.

The woods were cool with the night air, and seemed almost endless. The only sound around was the occasional snapping of twigs beneath your feet and the occasional chatter of woodland creatures. It was calming, but you were more focused on the man beside you.

He moved with a trained confidence, and as the two of you chatted, you couldn’t help but find yourself drawn to him. He was easy to slip into conversation with— friendly, but not pushy. Just as things seemed to escalate, the man briefly paused.

“Ahm gonna take a piss, stay here,” The man, who you’d come to know as John, quickly excused.

You stood still for a few minutes, gaze shifting around the darkness. A part of you was hesitantly unsure if he was ever coming back. But before you could move to call out or search for him, you felt a warmth spreading across your back followed by the loud sound of what almost seemed like a flowing river.

You turned around in shock, immediately being met face to face with a girthy cock, a steady stream of piss hissing out onto your body. Following the sight upward, you found yourself looking straight in the eye of a werewolf. That same electric blue gaze no longer belonging to a scare actor, but a raw, authentic beast, half-transformed.

“Duilich—,” he grunted out, “Ah couldn’t resist.”