A Hunter's Con

Thanks for reading, I appreciate any feedback you might have!

*

The sprawling city of Baynok spread out before John like a cancer slowly devouring the countryside. His disdainful glare took in the crowded road disappearing into the city. He was not one of these people. A fact that was readily apparent to anyone who cared to notice him, standing there with a string of claws hanging from his belt and his long hunting dagger sitting comfortably on his hip. The wilderness was his home, and it would have suited him just fine to never set foot in a city again. Unfortunately, the city meant trade, and trade meant alchemists and healers for him to sell his wares to. For that reason, John sighed and plunged into the sea of bodies.

Thankfully, the walk to his destination was not far. The healer he often did business with had a shop about fifteen minutes from the city's main gate. His name was Harold, and John had been selling him herbs for over fifteen years now. He knew that his herbs might fetch a higher price deeper in the city, but Harold had always treated him fairly.

John was relieved when he at last broke free of the main thoroughfare and made his way down the side street leading to Harold's shop. He had only taken a few steps when a woman shrieked behind him. John turned towards the source to find a horse and carriage thundering towards him.

"Out o' the way peasants!" The driver screamed as the shrieking women was thrown to the side.

Reflexes born from years in the wilderness saved John from a similar fate as he dived out of the way. His landing was anything but graceful and he lost his footing in the slick mud lining the roadside. He landed face first and foul odors filled his nostrils. The shallow trenches that lined these roads were often used for discarding the waste accumulated by nearby shops and houses. John angrily spat what he prayed was mud from his mouth and surged to his feet. The carriage was already past, but he caught a brief glance of the noblewoman riding in the back. Her long blond hair was trailing behind her and her sparkling green dress flaunted her obvious wealth.

"Bloody nobles and their bloody carriages!" John cursed at the retreating vehicle. They thought the owned the road and everything in it!

John took stock of his situation, nothing but his pride was seriously injured. The herbs in his pouch were a little dirty, but they would need to be washed anyways. He stomped his way back onto the road and stormed towards the healers shop. His facial expression dared anyone to slow his progress. The quicker he sold his goods, the quicker he could leave this god forsaken city.

When John reached the storefront, he cut into the alleyway beside it and made his way to the shop's back door. He doubted Harold would appreciate him tracking mud through his front door. The wooden door rattled as he angrily rapped on its surface. The door cracked open a moment later and Harold's wrinkled face poked out.

"You trying to break down my door boy," the healer said in a scolding tone. His gaze swept downwards to his mud covered clothing, "What happened to you?"

"Bloody nobles."

Harold gave him a knowing nod, "Well come on in and get yourself cleaned up."

Inside, herbs of all shapes and sizes hung from strings along one of the room's walls and a pot of something that smelled eerily like cooked cabbage sat over the fire pit in the far corner. Shelves overflowing with small bottles filled the remaining wall space. These were Harold's stock of potions and his primary means of income. Each bottle had a small label attached and John recognized more than a few of the names. Potions were an invaluable resource for the hunter.

"Here, take this," Harold said, pulling John's attention away from his surroundings. He was holding out a robe of brown linen that mimicked his own attire. "Not sure how well it'll fit, but it should tide you over till your clothes dry." Harold then pointed to a tub of water sitting beside the rickety table in the center of the room, "You can use that, I just finished washing my socks."

"Thanks," John replied with more than a hint of sarcasm, eyeing the tub suspiciously and taking note of the yellow-stained socks draped along the side of the table.

Harold eagerly took John's herb pouch and shuffled over to the nearby counter while John peeled his mud soaked clothing off. The brown robe scratched at his skin and itched like hell. You would think the store owner could afford some better clothing... well, at least it was clean. John plopped down in the chair beside the tub and dunked his tunic into the water.

"Oh! You found a tryllic flower!" Harold exclaimed as John vigorously scrubbed at the mud stained fabric.

Tryllic flowers were exceedingly rare in these parts and his finding this particular flower in a nearby forest was the primary reason for this visit. The flower fetched exorbitant prices and would lodge him for months.

"I need to take this to the castle immediately."

"Huh," John replied, looking up from his laundry.

"Lord Brackstone himself is in need of a tryllic potion," Harold said with excitement as he began to scoop up supplies around the room. John would have never believed the old man could move so fast. "Can you look after the shop for a bit?"

"Huh," John replied a second time.

"The shop, boy," Harold said, stopping momentarily to stare at him as if he was daft, "I need to deliver a tryllic potion. Honestly, how do you survive outside the walls?"

John ignored the jibe, "Yeah, whatever, it'll take awhile to get these clothes clean anyways."

Harold threw the supplies in a small knapsack. "Good, I'll be back in a few hours. If anyone comes in, just tell them to come back tomorrow," he said as he bolted out the back door.

John shook his head; he sure was a weird old codger. Of course, he did live in the city which, John had concluded, could drive anyone crazy. He shrugged and turned his attention back to his clothing. The damn mud was almost worse to scrub out than ale.

His shirt had almost returned to its normal color when he heard the bell on the shop's front door jingle. John draped his tunic over the bucket's side and made his way into the store's front room. He had only taken a step into the storefront when he screeched to a halt. A woman and a man were standing just inside the shop's front door. The woman had long blonde hair and was wearing a sparkling green gown that accentuated her curves nicely. The man wore a rich blue doublet covered with the telltale dust of a carriage driver. John recognized them immediately. 'Well isn't this just bloody convenient,' he thought.

"Healer, the lady is not feeling well," the man said as he entered the room, "We've been to three other shops that were staffed by ignorant swine."

John looked from the man to the woman in confusion and then down to his robe. He was wearing a healer's robe! They thought he was Harold! 'Oh, this just gets bloody better and better,' he thought.

"What, uh, seems to be the problem?" John asked the noblewoman, deciding to play along.

Instead of responding to him directly, she turned to her driver, "Tell him that my stomach is aching."

'You've got to be kidding me,' John thought. Damned arrogant nobles, she was too high and mighty to even talk to a commoner.

"The lady's stomach is upset," the driver informed him as if John had not just heard her instructions. What a bloody charade!

"I have just the potion you need in the back," John replied and excused himself to the back room.

John would make this woman pay for her arrogance and his mind raced through the potential options to exact his revenge as he entered the shop's back room. He scanned the numerous potions that filled Harold's shelves. There was lizard's boil which would cause her stomach to bloat and leave her gassy for a week. Or, perhaps some henwort dew, which would cause her skin to become blotchy and stink like rotten eggs. Oh, Harold even had some yearling dung. Yearling dung literally tasted like shit and came out even worse. So many possibilities played through John's mind that he was soon smiling and humming to himself as he wandered from bottle to bottle. That haughty bitch may prance around as though she was above everyone else, but he would bring her down a peg.

John took both a bottle of yearling dung and henwort dew from the shelf. He chuckled as he poured both into an empty vial; she was going to want to avoid mirrors for the next few weeks. The thought of her beauty sparked a new possible avenue for revenge. It was so ingenious that his face split into a wide grin. If this worked, he would have one hell of a story to tell the guys back at camp.

John set the two bottles down on the table and quickly located a vial of honeysap from the wall. Honeysap was a potion used primarily by hunters up north to stay awake for long durations. While it worked wonders in fighting off drowsiness, it also had an interesting side effect. It caused your skin to tingle like crazy shortly after consumption. Hunters often used it to haze the rookies in camp by sneaking it into their drink and then frightening them with tales of what their tingling skin implied. John was betting on the fact that a noblewoman would have a similar reaction.

"Tell him I don't have all day," the woman said to her driver as stepped back into the storefront.

"Hurry it up, the lady does not have all day," the driver dutifully repeated.

Oh how he was going to enjoy this. "Sorry for the delay ma'am," he said with a sarcastic bow, "I was looking for my best potions. It's not every day that I get someone as esteemed as you in my shop."

"Apparently," the woman replied while rolling her eyes.

John restrained the snide remark that sprang to his lips. Instead, he took a deep breath and began the con of a lifetime. "Here, drink this please. It's called honeysap and it works wonders on upset stomachs."

The woman shooed the potion away, "Ask him how much it costs."

"For someone as esteemed as you milady, it's free," John replied before the driver could repeat her question. They both turned to him as though he had set the building on fire.

The woman gave a loud harrumph, "Well, I see he lacks proper manners." She then snatched the potion from his outstretched hands and downed the contents. A moment later her face curled into a scowl, "It's disgusting."

John actually liked the taste of honeysap. "Sometimes the highest quality potions can have odd tastes," he explained as he watched her, anticipating what would come next. It took every ounce of his willpower not to smile when she shuddered the first time.

She started to wring her hands and then looked directly at him, "I... I feel funny." Amazing how he was suddenly worthy of her attention.

John assumed his most serious expression, "what do you mean by funny?"

"I don't know," she whispered, "my skin... it feels like... like a thousand tiny needles are poking it."

The carriage driver took a step in his direction, his face now lined with concern, "What the hell did you give her!"

John raised him hands in deference, "Wait, wait. This might be serious."

John's words gave him pause. "What do you mean serious?" the driver asked.

John needed to lose the driver if this con was to succeed. "Ma'am, this is probably something we should discuss privately."

The woman's eyes were now wide with fear, but the driver looked skeptical, "Why would you need to discuss it privately?" he demanded.

"The problems are of a, uhm, personal nature," He whispered to the woman with an emphasis on "personal".

The woman looked more confused than ever, but John knew her skin was tingling like crazy right now. He had been a rookie in those camps once.

"Stanley, wait with the carriage."

Stanley turned to the woman in shock, "But, lady Lyla, I don't think-"

She cut him off mid sentence, "How dare you question me!"

Fear registered on Stanley's face and he backed towards the front door. "S-sorry, milady," he stammered with a bow and dashed out of the shop. The bell jingled and John smiled, let the games begin.

Lyla turned back towards him, her anger at the exchange with her driver still apparent in her features. "Now, what is this problem," she demanded with her hands on her hips.

Standing there, John had to admit she was one of the more attractive women he had ever seen. The bodice of her green dress was pulled taut across her full bosom and he knew exactly what his first course of action would be.

"There is a, uh, sickness spreading across the northern reaches that is known as the tingling disease. It is said to cause as tingling sensation throughout the body. Eventually, the disease turns the skin a sickly grey," John explained, slightly modifying one of the stories veteran hunters would use on rookies. Lyla gasped and her hand flew to her mouth, he had her full attention now. "The diseases early symptoms are a stomach ace followed by the tingling sensations."

"My skin... I can't..." Lyla stammered, her hand still over her mouth, "W-what can we do?"

John was thoroughly enjoying watching her squirm, justice was one cold bitch. "First I must verify that you are showing all the symptoms. Please, give me your hand."

Lyla's hand was shaking as she anxiously extended it in his direction. He took the delicate hand in his and slowly traced his finger along her palm. Her skin was unbelievably soft, nothing like the women he typically consorted with.

He struggled to maintain his serious demeanor as he asked, "Does this tingle?"

"Y-yes," she replied, eyes wide, "What does it mean?"

John brushed aside her question and continued the examination. His gaze swept up to the taut bodice he had admired earlier.

"Hrmm, that's not good. Is the tingling feeling throughout your body?"

"Yes, yes it is!"

"Even in your breasts?"

The question brought shock to the noblewoman's features and she was momentarily speechless. John doubted her noble sensibilities often entailed discussing her breasts with men, especially those of a common origin. He smiled on the inside; it was high time she did.

"Ma'am, this is important. Is there any tingling in your breasts?" he asked again.

Her cheeks reddened, which made her look even more beautiful, and she whispered, "I don't... uhm, maybe."

"Hrmm," John mumbled while rubbing his chin, "I will need to check them immediately."

"What!?!" Lyla exclaimed and yanked her hand out of his grasp. "How dare... who do you..."

John's heart was racing. "I need to see how far the sickness has spread," John explained.

"I am not going-" Lyla started to say, but John cut her off.

"Ma'am it's the only way. This sickness spreads fast and we are wasting valuable time."

Lyla stared at him for a moment as if mentally wrestling with the situation. When her gaze dropped to the floor and her nervous hands rose to the string that held her bodice together, John knew which side had won. Her shaking hands fumbled with the knot and her cheeks darkened even further in embarrassment. John reveled in bearing witness to the entire ordeal. When the knot finally started to loosen, he began to squirm in anticipation. This was no whore or barkeep, but a noble woman, and she was about to show him her tits.

Her eyes never left the floor as the strings fell apart and the bodice loosened. John watched as she maneuvered her arms free of the shoulder straps and then pulled the top of the dress down to her waist. Her breasts sprang free and John stood there mesmerized by the light pink nipples staring right back at him. She was not as endowed as some of the wenches he had been with in the past, but this woman's pert breasts were far more erotic theirs had ever been. Her skin was pristine, unexplored. He could tell that it was just as silky smooth as her hands had been. John gulped and reached forward to begin the examination.

Lyla's head shot up when his hand came in contact with her exposed breast, "What do you think you're doing!"

"Ma'am, I can't tell if you are sick just by looking," John admonished and firmly took her left tit in his hand to accentuate the point.

From the look on her face, she was caught between wanting to smack him and wanting to run. Instead of doing either, she simply stood there and blushed as he fondled her breast. Her skin was even softer than he had imagined. He used his fingers to explore the contours of each breast, slowly tracing the borders of her areola and brushing across her now stiff nipples. After a time he began to lift each breast and giddily watch as the breast bounced back into place when he released it. He was like a schoolboy playing with his first set of tits. Lyla shuddered more than once at his attention. John gave her right nipple a firm pinch which elicited a small squeak.

"Did that hurt?"

"A little," she replied without looking in his direction.

"Hrmm," he said as if pondering the situation. He reached for the nipple on her left breast and gave it a pinch. "How about that?"

"Y-yes."

"Interesting," he mumbled, continuing to stare at the magnificent tits lying bare before him, "Better take a closer look."

John moved his face within an inch of her left breast. He noticed her flinch at his close proximity, but she remained silent. He smiled and took the tit into his mouth.

"What are you doing!?!"

"I am checking for a distinct taste," John said, releasing the tit from his mouth for moment before latching back on. His free hand found her right breast and started fondling that one as well. John was not in a position to see her face, but the stiffness of her body indicated that she was probably in shock at what was happening. That stiffness dissipated a bit when he began to flick his tongue back and forth across the hard nub in his mouth. He felt her body shudder as few times in response to his tongue's attention.

John could not say how long he suckled and played with her tits, but he made sure to give each their fair share of his attention. By the end, the pressure in his pants had reached a point where he decided it was time to move on.

"Yep, all the signs are there. You've got the tingling disease."

Horror spread across her face, "No, i-it can't be," she whispered, her hands going to her chest and covering her breasts. John missed them already.

"Now calm down," John said reassuringly, pulling her hands to him so that her lovely tits were exposed once more, "Even though your case is quite advanced, there is a cure."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," Lyla stammered, "Please, what must I do?"

Those words were music to his ears. The haughty bitch was standing topless before him, breasts shimmering with his saliva, and she was begging him for help. There was bloody justice in the world.

"Up north they often use gauran seed as a remedy, but I unfortunately do not have any," John said, toying with her a bit.

"Oh!" she gasped, "W-would other healers have some?"

"No, it comes from an animal that lives in the north and would not survive the travel this far south," John explained, "But, a man's seed can be used as a supplement if administered properly."

"A man's seed?"

"Yes, a man's seed. But, since it is not gauran seed, it must be prepared properly and the seed must transfer directly from the man to the woman."

"I-I don't understand," Lyla replied, concern etched in her features.

"That's why I'm the healer dear," John said with a reassuring smile, "Now I must prepare so we can get you fixed right up."

The concern in her face relaxed slightly at his confident tone. John took one more look at her lovely tits before turning and heading into the back room. He rummaged through the healer's stock. 'Come on,' he thought. Harold has to have fargot root. While fargot root had no real healing properties, it did have the interesting side effect of causing a man's penis to go rock hard for extended durations; a side effect that made it wildly popular with the noble men who could afford it. There it is! John popped the bottle's topper and gulped down a hearty portion. 'Time for some real fun,' he thought with a laugh.