After the gang split up, Daphne quickly got lost in the dark, creepy woods. She was extremely aware that all the missing counselors from the nearby Camp Givitoomi were pretty young women like her, and soon she heard the noises that, along with the missing women, had earned these forests the reputation of being haunted: the moans and cries of a woman in distress.

But Daphne was no coward. She moved quickly toward the sound, and was shocked when she saw what it was: Velma, naked and very much not in distress. Her moans, her cries, her pleading were for more, more from the strange man who was… well, the only word for it was fucking her right there on the forest floor.

But as the earthy smell of sex filled her nose, Daphne found herself more than shocked. She was strangely intrigued… Before she realized it, she was creeping closer, and the closer she got the stronger that tantalizing aroma grew, filling her head, making her feel hot and dizzy and very, very good.

Soon she was so close she could almost touch them, and it was so easy to go from a crouch to her knees, torn between the urge to touch that incredible-smelling man and the urge to touch herself.

Then the man settled it for her: he turned to her, still fucking Velma, and said a single word. “Strip.”

Daphne obeyed, for the first of many, many time.