It all happened so fast, and motivated mainly by instinctive drives. The older men of my family had told me about it many times, but it always left me confused. They reassured me that it was one of those things that didn’t make a lot of sense until it happened.
I was still in awe though. Four nights ago I’d picked up a stranger at a bar under the overwhelming urge to own him and transform him. I’d fucked him over and over that night, at least half a dozen times. Since then I’d followed the advice I’d heard the older men of my family give me many times: I’d kept him in a dark room, in a nest of blankets, keeping him warm with my body. They’d told me not to do anything with him sexually, but I found instinctively that I only wanted to comfort him. I’d fed him rare meat- lots of it, his appetite was incredible. On time-honoured instructions, I gave him heavy cream mixed with my cum, which he guzzled like a drowning man. My cock was getting sore from jacking off enough to keep him hydrated.