It was close. She knew it.

Swinging herself off of her faithful obsidian stallion, she knelt closer to the forest floor, examining the four-toed tracks. She leaned in, breathing in the musky, pungent scent that tingled not only her senses, but her body as well. The ends of her lips curled upwards; her tongue slipped out between the luscious siblings, slicking them with saliva stemming from anticipation. Her thighs couldn’t help but press themselves together as she stood back up, brushing her stallion’s mane. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your turn once we get back.” She cooed soothingly.

Witchers arose because there were monsters that needed to be eradicated. But with the passing years, magicians and brewers discovered that various fluids from monsters proved more useful than they had expected. Typically this meant venom, blood, saliva, and other strange secretions. However, the difficulty was that while Witchers could acquire these sorts of things easily enough, they couldn’t acquire the most valuable fluid of all: sperm. While they could hack off the scrotum; typically the monster was so agitated that the resulting fluid was so curdled, impotent, and altogether worthless. The monster needed to be induced into a breeding frenzy to give the strongest and most effective load it could produce.

And so the world developed a need for Bitchers.

She sat down and breaking out her portable apothecary pit. Fumbling through her the inner pockets of her travel-worn coat, she fished out the appropriate packets and vials holding the necessary herbs and solutions she needed, respectively. Although she could brew the potions beforehand, their effectiveness would severely be severely diminished the longer they sat in bottle and not in her stomach. Once the concoctions were brewed and heated by holding the small cauldron divided into three partitions over the fire she’d ignited at her fingertips, she drank them in succession.

She gagged a bit at the taste; eyes watering at the strange sourness with a hint of. She bent over forward, holding her own body close as the effects took place. When the worst passed, she slowly rose to her feet unsteadily, going over the potions’ effects in her head. Originally, she’d been thinking about what parts of her outfit should she remove: her lizard skin boots? Her white tunic? Her brown coat? Perhaps everything, including the white undergarments beneath it all? Or would the monster prefer to rip everything off? Oh she just couldn’t decide before her brain melted into hunger.

The first enhanced her flesh’s flexibility, preventing her prey from damaging her assuming she seduced it properly. Besides the obvious benefits of her cunt, ass and throat being able to accept insertions that would normally tear them apart, her womb could be filled up to a half-gallon.

The second provided a burst in energy. Whereas Witchers needed monstrous amounts of energy to maintain sustained engagements against monsters, Bitchers needed to maintain consciousness whilst being ravaged by them. After all, a Bitcher that failed to transport and purify the sperm before it decayed because she passed out after being ravaged was about as useful as a Bitcher who’d never gotten her fill in the first place.

And the third altered the chemical composition of her body slightly so that she could produce the pheromones needed to her prey into targeting her. Her chest heaved; her eyes darted from side to side frantically, searching for any wisp of movement that would indicate that her prey was close. Even her intelligence seemed to have been diminished somewhat, her brain occupied by an animalistic lust rather than her usual tactical senses. She admitted she took this potion sometimes a bit too often and perhaps it addled her brain to the point where it affected her slightly even when she wasn’t under its influence directly, but hey she loved her job.

Because a Witcher slayed monsters. And a Bitcher? Well, I think you know the answer.

(Wrote this prompt because I saw an F4M post that I loved, sent a response to, got none in return. Decided, why not take make lemonade out of lemons? So here we are. Vanilla prompt will be coming in a week, so look out for that if you like my writing!)

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