Pondering a Story Idea... What do you dudes think?

[This is an original story idea. Please do not steal]

I can’t remember how I got there, but I was in an old-timey castle and an old wise lady holding my head in her hands. She was whispering something in some type of language that I’ve never heard before. Soon I felt a burning before a solid black wolf appeared next to me, looking at up me as if waiting for direction.

As if on cue, a handful of guys came and surrounded me and the old woman. The dog and I fought off the crowd. It was as if on instinct since I, a scrawny kid that would cry if my toe got stubbed, had no fighting skills especially with… claws?

The wolf and I fought off the massive crowd of people, working our way to the exit. Once there, we sprinted into the deep woods. It felt like I was flying since the speed I was going made it feel like my feet didn’t even touch the ground.

The wolf stopped in front of me when we were in the clearing. I skidded to a stop, staring at the thing dead in the eyes. I found myself holding out a hand with abnormally large claws (?) on the ends of them. The wolf didn’t seem to notice as he came up and put his face on my hand, slowly working it to be at his cheek.

I felt my hand burning as the dog slowly disappeared from in front of me, the only trace of him ever being here was a dark black ink-like burn on my hand that seemed to be in the shape of the wolf coming from my wrist.

That was the first fights of many. And with each fight, a new piece of wolf or something to tell the story appeared on my arm, slowly scaling up to my mid-upper arm (is there any other way to describe the part of the arm between the elbow and shoulder?). I also was slowly getting unable to wear sleeves as the tattoo would burn off the cloth that covered it.

Which made me move to a much more tropical climate, but not too hot of one since I seemed to have a much higher temperature, similar to that of a dog or well uh… wolf, and physically cannot handle hot climates like the Caribbean.

So, like any traveler, I ended up in California… Well Los Angeles to be more exact. And as a twenty-six year-old man with severely tan skin, black hair (previously was blond… But the wolf wanted us to match), odd hazel-like yellow eyes, and a pretty mean six pack… Which I don’t know about you, but is something I never thought I had… Anyways, and as this new person, I get a lot of attention from people (ladies mostly)... But uh… Being the inner nerd (or uh… Former nerd) that I am, I am horrible at talking to them.

Oh and PTSD doesn’t exactly help me in the dating department. Every time that I dream of battles, the wolf comes out as if I’m back in them again… And the only ‘cure’ so to speak, is to cuddle deeply in his fur until the morning comes. And so, women aren’t exactly fond of a giant black wolf appearing in the bed in the middle of the night…

Speaking of ladies, I am currently at the bar -totally not in the middle of the day- trying to drink the memories of brutally murdering people with either my claws (that actually recede when the wolf does) or any other weapon I find suitable to take away their breath with. And there is also a (probably) very kind twenty-something woman here with beach-blonde hair and darling blue eyes trying to flirt her way back to my apartment.

“Look, I’m not much fun,” I said honestly.

“Come on, how can a man with a face like that not be ‘much fun’?” she said moving closer just to stroke my thin beard.

“Cause I’m not,” I answered.

“Maybe a few more drinks will bring out the fun,” she said with a sinister smile. “Another beer for us please.”

She was bold… I hate bold.

“No I’ve got a one beer limit,” I said desperately trying to let her go and continue on with her life without me in it.

The girl took a sip of the beer she just paid for and pushed the other towards me and my-now empty- one. I looked at her and then at the brown-tinted glass. I couldn’t do this. Have to explain (yet again) that I have a pet wolf that is an attention whore and that I am not crazy even though I screamed in the middle of the night right after we had sex and there was nothing she could do to fix me.

“No,” I said in a stern-like voice. “I uh… I’ve got to get back to my job.” Lie. I don’t have a job. I can’t hold down one long enough to get paid.

“It’s a Sunday,” she stated flatly.

“Yeah I uh… I work for a church,” I said showing my old self.

“With those tattoos?” she asked curiously.

“Uh… Bye now,” I muttered before quickly paying for my drink and then out of building all together.

I instantly bumped into another woman of similar blonde hair, but with brown eyes. I quickly apologized before walking off in a rather fast manner…. Good job Josh. Good job.

“Wait!” a girl called. “You dropped your uh…” her voice lowered into a normal tone. “Knife?”

Shit.

I turned on my heels, walking back with a fake smile on my face. I grabbed the knife from her hands with my entirely tattooed hand and arm, looking at her for only a moment before starting to walk away.

I got maybe three steps before she grabbed my tattooed arm and turned me back to facing her.

“Y-Your tattoos…” she breathed.

“Yeah, I’m a fan of wolves,” I said awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck with my other-free arm. “Got it all done in one drunk nig