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Sticky Fingers

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The inner cities of the Outlands can be as dangerous as any werewolf den if you don't keep your wits about you. If you're unable to make a living for yourself and pay rent, you're as good as finished. You'll either end up as an Edger slave pawned off to some rich fucker in the Safe-Zone or some prostitute at a sleazy Orc sex bar before you even knew what hit you. Adam never planned to let that happen to him.

He had wound up in the inner city after his small farming village was overrun by some slime monster when he was a teenager. When he had saw the green goop pouring into the town market, consuming everything in its path and dragging the villagers into its liquid mass, ripping apart their clothes and milking them to feed off their cum, he could do nothing but run. He ran, and never looked back.

It was a rough few months after that. There were no homeless shelters in the Outlands, and Adam knew better than to trust 'good samaritans' that would let him stay in their house rent-free. He made a new life for himself in the dark alleys that sprawl through the city, housing the criminal underworld of the Outlands. At first, he had just managed to survive by stealing scraps of food from restaurants.

That's when he discovered his talent for theft. He wasn't that tall, and he had toned muscle, but wasn't big. He was just the perfect stature to fade into the background and slip into the periphery of people's attention. He improved his skills over time, his body maturing into the perfect build to allow him to sneak in to places where he shouldn't be and get out with no one noticing. He began stealing what he could and peddling it to shady merchants in the alleys.

That's where he'd made a name for himself. People would pay for him to steal things. He would never ask what it was, or what it was wanted - that was bad for business, and for your health if you weren't careful. After around a year, he managed to afford a decent apartment and start a life for himself. Truth be told, he could probably quit stealing if he wanted to. He would be able to lead a semi-normal life.

But he didn't want to. He loved the thrill of the theft, of slipping your hands into someone's pockets when they weren't paying attention, or of being somewhere where you shouldn't be. Adam supposes that it was only a matter of time before he was caught, or worse. In this case, worse.

On the surface, the job was pretty easy. Sneak into some shaman's office, steal a pretty valuable ring, and then leave it at a dead drop and await payment. When the client gets the valuable, they always transfer the money to his bank account. Adam warns the client that failing to pay will result in Adam paying some 'friendly orcs' to raid the client's house for 'compensation.' Thankfully, he's only had to do that a couple of times.

Surprisingly, stealing the ring wasn't a problem. Adam had easily managed to slip into the shaman's office, finding the ring tucked away in some jewellery box by the bed. It was weird-looking, a gold band with several hands carved around the length in red. Adam shrugged, pocketing the ring before quickly escaping the office and slipping into the shadows of the city's alleys.

He walked leisurely to the dead drop, toying with the ring in his pocket. He never asks why people what the items he steals, but it doesn't stop him from wondering. Envy? Revenge? It's anyone's guess. Adam wasn't paying attention when he slipped the ring onto his finger inside the pocket, suddenly feeling a sharp shock.

He swore, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding it up to a flickering light. The ring was glowing, each of the hands shining a dark red. He tried desperately to pull the ring off of his finger, but it wouldn't budge at all. Adam began to panic, realising that the ring was hexed. That's when the metal started to fuse to Adam's skin, seeping down into the flesh before disappearing completely.

Adam stood dumbfounded. There was no evidence that the ring was even on his finger at all, save for the small band of hands that is now wrapped around his digit like a tattoo. Adam sighed in frustration, it's not the first time he had gotten a nasty surprise from an enchanted object - like that jewel that ended up making his balls overproduce cum until he gave it away - but this was certainly the strangest.

He'd have to go and see a shaman in the morning. He lifted up his phone out of his pocket and texted his client that the deal was off before deleting his number - he hated doing that, it was bad for business. But it would have been worse if the client found out he had destroyed the ring by accident.

Adam was pissed off at his own carelessness. He walked to his apartment, hood up and hands in his pockets, purposefully avoiding any attention from the shady characters that inhabit the alleys. Opening the door to his apartment, he kicked off his shoes and stripped naked, flopping down in his bed for a restless night's sleep.


Adam's sleep certainly was restless. He tossed and turned for a few hours, unable to relax long enough to pass out until next thing he knew it was 4am and he heard the sound of cars driving by on the streets below him, ready to go out to work.

Adam grunted in frustration, holding a pillow over his face, angry at his own earlier mistake. He looked at the tattoo around his finger. The hands were all there - all seven of them. They weren't anything special or detailed, just a simple outline of a hand, five fingers on each-- one of them was glowing. Why the fuck was one of them glowing?

A dull red shone out from one of the hands, making Adam sweat nervously. He didn't know what this meant, and he had a feeling that he should be worried. He was right, evidently. Adam felt a strange tingling on his left thigh and pulled up the covers, instantly going white with shock.

There was a hand, emerging from his thigh. It appeared to be completely fused to the skin, and grey in colour. Shocking himself aware, he screamed and flung himself off the bed, landing on the floor. He hoped that it was a nightmare, and he’d look down to see his thigh back to normal. No such luck.

The hand continued to grow out of Adam's thigh, until it had developed a forearm. Adam was shocked, staring wide-eyed at the new growth from his body. Then, to his surprise, the hand went straight for Adam's exposed cock, taking the soft prick in its grip and beginning to slowly stroke up and down.

Adam tried to pry the hand off of his cock but it was useless - its grip was too strong. To his horror, he realised that he was getting hard until the hand's teasing strokes. He tried to picture anything that would prevent his cock from getting stiff. Nothing worked, and within half a minute Adam was panting as the disembodied hand jerked him off.

It was skilled, as well. He had never gotten a handjob like it before. He was moaning and grunting as the grey limb stroked up and down his big cock in long, languid movements, slipping from the pink, leaking tip to the bush of hair at the base. Adam could feel the cum welling up in his balls, and knew that he wouldn't last long.

He tried to push how fucked up his current situation was out of his mind as he edged closer and closer to his much-needed release. Whatever this thing was it could sense that he was getting close, and was stroking faster and faster, drawing breathing moans and sharp grunts out of the squirming male.

Adam swore as the first rope of jizz shot out the top of his cock, hitting him squarely on his face. He didn't care, letting his own cum drip down into his open mouth as the hand stroked him through the rest of his intense orgasm. He bucked his hips upwards as the skilled digits continued to tease at his head, drawing every last drop of pent-up cum out of Adam's throbbing balls.

Just as the stimulation was getting to be too much, the hand relinquished his grip, ropes of thick cum dangling from its fingers - and just like that, it disappeared into smoke, the cum dropping down onto Adam's thighs where it began to dry as the man sat there, trying to assess whatever the fuck had just happened to him.


Adam quickly applied logic and realised that the ring was hexed in more than a few ways. He still hasn't figured exactly what the conditions of the hex are. If it even is a hex. He calls up a Shaman that lives a few blocks away - he's stolen more than a few rare objects for him and it's high-time he calls in a favour.

He got dressed and walked outside. It was a warm summer day, so Adam decided just to wear a pair of shorts and a tank top. He'd look no different than every other douchebag jock walking down the street, no one would even suspect that he's one of the city's most-skilled thieves. He looks around at the high-rise apartments. He wouldn't even be able to count the amount of people in this area he's stolen from, it's just so easy to slip into--

He's brought out of his cocky recounting of his past triumphs by the familiar itch on his finger. He looked down at his hand to see the glowing once more... two hands this time. What the fuck does that mean?! Adam realised that he was in public. Granted, it was 10am and most people were either already at work or still in bed, but there were still a fair amount of people walking down the street.

Breaking out into a run, he quickly sprinted into a nearby public bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty and no one was there to question why he had suddenly burst in. He quickly locked himself in a stall and waited to see what the hex would pull on him next. He looked down at the spot on his thigh where the hand had appeared last night, but strangely nothing was happening.

Just as he began to question if the hex was a one-time thing, he felt something grab him from behind, a rough hand covering his mouth. He tried to yell out, but it was useless. He turned his head to see two grey limbs growing out of the stall divider, one pressed against his mouth while the other snakes its way down the front of Adam's shorts.

He was pulled tight against the stall divider, the limbs' incredible effectively immobilising him. He makes a mental note of the fact that they don't necessary have to spawn from his body, but they can spawn from anything around him. That was the last articulate thought he could muster up before he got lost in the forced pleasure the hands were subjecting him to.

It wasn't long before Adam tried to let out a moan, the hand covering his face muffling the sound. It took notice of Adam's pleasure, lifting up before pushing two fingers into his mouth. Adam was by no means proud of the fact that he began to suck on the disembodied hand's fingers, eagerly letting them fuck into his mouth while the other hand continues to jerk him off inside of his boxers.

Adam realised pretty quickly that whatever these hands were, they were going to make him cream his shorts. He knew, but at the minute he didn't care. He wanted to buck his hips forward, but the hands held him flush against the stall divider as they jerked him and teased him. It wasn't long before he began to shudder, jets of spooge firing out into his boxers as Adam went loose-limbed.

The hands once against disappeared, leaving Adam sitting on the dirty floor of the bathroom, a noticeable cum-stain on the front of his boxers. He sighed, dragging himself to his feet and peeling himself out of his cum-soaked underwear. Realising that they were a lost-cause, he left them sitting on the cistern of the toilet for some lucky creep to enjoy before grabbing a few tissues to clean up his shorts.

He liked those boxers, god damn it.


"What do you mean there's nothing you can do!?" Adam shouted at the Shaman, who just shrugged with indifference.

"You set off a hex, Adam." The Shaman said with a tone that implied the word 'idiot'. "They're more difficult to remove than curses - typically the only person that can remove it is the person who set it."

Adam would guess that's the shaman he stole it from. At least, he would hope so. Adam's Shaman friend continued to go on a tangent about the finer qualities of the hex. "It's impressive, actually... typically it's impossible to apply a hex to an inanimate object, but whoever you stole this from did a great job!"

Adam raises a brow at his friend - who is continuing to suck the dick of the as-of-yet unknown shaman who owned the ring. He catched Adam's glare and coughs nervously, "But yes, probably not the best for you. From what I can gather the hands relate the seven days of the week, and every day will bring another hand to... uh... torment you? There's only so much I can do when you don't tell me what the hands do, you know."

Adam brushes off his prodding for further information. "So, there's nothing that you can do to remove it?"

"Unfortunately not." He says, "You could try to wait out the seven days. It may disappear after then, but there's no way to be certain."

Frustrated, Adam stood up and walked out of his friend's office, walking out the front of the building and staring up at the sky. Seven days? He could do seven days. Sure, he would need to go outside during that time but there were no shortage of public bathrooms and hidden alleys around the area - he could dip out of sight for a quick handjob if he needed to.

Plus, it only happens once a day, right?

Unfortunately for Adam, that wasn’t the case, as he realised in the stairwell of his apartment when two hands once again sprouted out of the ground and pulled him down to all-fours, milking his cock like he was a cow while fondling his balls. Adam looked up at the doors to the hallways in fear, realising that at any moment someone would walk in and see Adam being stroked by two disembodied hands.

He shot his load onto the tiled stairs, and zipped up his shorts, running to his room red-faced leaving his cumstains there as a mark of shame. More than anything, he was terrified at the realisation that this could happen at any time, anywhere, without provocation.


Tragically, the hands began to get more creative with their 'torment'. They would take longer to bring Adam to orgasm, edging him a few times until he was panting and desperate to cum, sweat soaking through his clothes and collecting on his brow. They would stay for longer, not just disappearing when Adam spills his load but continued to toy with his sensitive cock, making him whine and spasm before they inevitable disintegrate into smoke.

But the worst thing by far was that they had discovered Adam's hole. It had happened on the third day, just as Adam was getting out of the shower. He had been waiting all morning for the hands to appear again, not wanting to get clean only to become sweaty and cum-stained within a few hours. At midday, he relented and let the water pour over him, relaxing his toned muscles and drawing a sigh out from him.

He supposes that it was better to be milked in the shower rather than outside of it - that way all the 'evidence' would disappear down the drain. It didn't mean that he was happy to see the three hands glowing around his finger. Groaning in frustration, he sat down on the porcelain of the shower, waiting for the hands to appear.

It didn't take them long, sprouting up from the white porcelain and groping their target. One wasted no time in taking Adam's cock, working it up to hardness and beginning the regime of edging that Adam detested. The other took Adam's fuzzy ballsack, rolling the sensitive nuts around in its palm. It drove Adam wild when he was on edge, and the only stimulation the hands would give him was gentle squeezing of his swollen nuts.

Adam stared curiously at the third hand, waiting to see what part of his body he would dedicate himself to. It disappeared behind Adam's cock, and suddenly the man jolted as he felt the pressure against his pink pucker. He wanted to jump to his feet, but it was fruitless unless he wanted to rip his balls off.

He was forced to sit there as the digits slowly circled his twitching hole, teasing it with just as much vigour as the two hands teasing his cock and balls. Adam was torn between pulling away and pushing down on the finger for something more. Adam had never been a huge fan of bottoming - it was degrading, allowing someone else to fuck you like that.

But he didn't have much of a choice now. He was surprised and ashamed at the high-pitched noise that came out of his mouth when the first digit penetrated him. It went in too easy to be dry. Adam reached down and felt the hand at his ass - it was... slimy? These things could make slime. Adam thought back to the slime monster that wiped out his village all those years ago and felt uneasy.

He wasn't lost in his memories for too long though, as the hands began to increase their stimulation. The hand around Adam's cock was jerking him in earnest, while the hands around his balls gently tugged and squeezed every few seconds, making Adam buck his hips involuntarily. But it was the fingers in Adam's ass that was driving him wild, fucking in and out of him making him moan in a pathetically desperate pitch.

The fingers jabbed sharply against his prostate and it felt like every one of Adam's nerves lit up. He stiffened, before his thighs shuddered and a jet of watery cum launched from his cock, splattering on his stomach before being washed down the drain. The hands all stilled at once, registering their new discovery. Adam wondered if they'd leave him now... after all, he did cum...

The fingers in his ass reshaped themselves to reach his prostate more easily, and began to rub and massage it. Adam shrieked, completely surprised at the sensation. The two other hands resumed their jerking and teasing, and within seconds Adam was spasming on the shower floor. The hand in his ass eagerly raped his prostate with pleasure, forcing Adam to shoot a long stream of watery cum against his will.

He doesn't know how long it lasted for, because after around half a minute of constant abuse of his prostate, Adam passed out. He woke up an hour later, his balls aching and all evidence of cum washed away down the drain. The shower head shut off, a safety feature, but judging by the fact that he was still wet Adam hadn't been out for more then ten minutes.

Pulling himself shakily to his feet, Adam switched the shower back on for the second time. Finishing his morning shower before preparing himself to face the rest of the day.


On the fourth day, the hands decided to milk Adam while he was in public, completely unable to hide. He had thought he'd be safe... after all, it was only a ten minute train ride to the other side of town where he had to pick up a package.

Seeing a guy getting jerked off by disembodied hands would certainly be weird, but only slightly weirder than what usually goes on inside the train carriages in the inner cities. There are no public nudity or decency laws in effect. Adam has seen dozens of guys jerk off in the train, he's even seen an Orc get on the train, completely naked, and fuck himself with a dildo in front of the full carriage.

That being said, Adam was anything but eager to put on a show for the people on the train. He turned his back to the carriage, facing out the window. The train wasn't extremely busy, there was only ten or so people in the carriage, but that didn't make Adam feel any less nervous. He looked down at the four glowing hands on his finger, dreading to see how they'd manifest themselves.

It was a small mercy he supposed that they began to tease him under his clothes. He had first saw the two bulges at each side of his chest, and then felt the fingers drag across his nipples, teasing at the sensitive flesh and brushing around the chest hair. Adam grunted, staying quiet was going to be a big problem.

Adam grunted and tried to make himself smaller in one of the corners of the carriages as another bulge grew in his thigh, a hand growing up and moving up towards his cock which was already beginning to stiffen. He knew that it wasn’t just the feeling of his nipples getting teased - whenever the hands started growing he’d get hard - he’d been trained like a fucking dog to expect it.

He whined as the two hands tugged at his sensitive nipples while the other hand jerked him off inside his sweatpants, the movement clearly visible to anyone who paid him even a little attention. That’s when Adam realised that there were only three hands, and this was the fourth day. Sweat gathered on his brow as he tried to imagine what the fourth hand could possible do to him.

He didn’t have to wait long as he felt another hand grow out the back of his leg, moving up his pants to slip between his cheeks. He tensed as the slimy digit began to tease at his hole once again. If the hand decided to finger him, there was no way that he’d be able to keep quiet. The last thing he wanted is someone paying attention to him right now. He tentatively looked around, realising that no one was paying attention to him - either too engrossed on their phones or paying attention to something else.

The finger slowly prodded inside, stretching Adam opened and drawing a pathetic whine out from him. Adam gave up trying to conceal the bulges in under his clothes, reaching up and grabbing two of the hanging handles for support as another finger slipped inside of him. It was incredibly lucky that no one had bothered to look in his direction yet, and they’d only see Adam desperately humping forwards into thin air as several bulges move under his clothes.

He didn’t last long - a combination of the pressure against his prostate, the stroking of his cock, and the sheer excitement of almost getting caught pushed him over the edge. He grunted and gasped as he spunked into his sweats, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he emptied his balls in short jets, leaving an obvious stain on the front of his pants. When he opened his eyes, a man was looking at him with a brow cocked. There were no bulges in his pants, just a few drops of cum seeping through the fabric. Adam coughed and moved into another carriage, trying to wipe off the jizz to stop it from staining.


On the fifth day, the hands spanked him. Really. He had been putting off trying to steal anything since he’d been cursed, but he was certain that the hands were done for today - they’d already milked him 4 times! His balls were aching! There was no way they’d go for Round 5.

Famous last words. He was just climbing up the fire escape outside of an apartment when he felt the itch under his gloves. He swore quietly, taking off the glove and seeing five hands glowing red. He tried to scramble down the fire escape into the alley to find a quiet spot in the shadows somewhere, but the hands were too fast.

Two hands grabbed his ankles, holding him in place just as he was about to jump over the edge of the railing onto the ground. He tried to pull free, but two more hands materialised out of the railing and grabbed his ankles. At least this would be semi-normal if one hand was just going to jerk him off while the others held him down.

Sadly for Adam, the hands had other plans in mind. He rolled his eyes with frustration when he felt his pants getting pulled down, collecting down at his ankles. He waited for the hand to take a hold of his hard cock, throbbing and waiting to be milked. At this point, the random milkings were more of an inconvenience that anything else.

A sharp smack landed on his right asscheek and Adam yelped out, quickly biting down on the inside of his cheek to prevent him from garnering any attention. What the fuck was that? The hands had never done anything but tease him before. While he was rapidly trying to think what was happening, another smack landed on his other cheek, making Adam wince.

The smacks continued once every few seconds, and Adam was doing everything in his power to try and keep himself quiet. The hands had no concern about Adam getting caught, continuing to punish him until his cheeks were bright red and his cock was leaking profusely onto the alleyway below him in long strands.

After around 15 minutes, and gods know how many spanks, the hands disappeared, allowing Adam to pull up his pants over his sensitive, red flesh and his hard, leaking cock. It was the first time the hands had disappeared without actually making Adam cum, and he was torn between relief and throbbing desperation.

He slowly climbed down into the alleyway, grunting with discomfort as the fabric of his pants rubbed against his sore ass and his rigid cock. He began to make his journey back to his apartment where’d he’d jerk on out before going to bed, realising that he still didn’t know the rules of the hex.


The sixth day was complete and utter torment. Adam had refused to leave his apartment for the next two days, realising that the milkings were becoming more frequent. He’d just wait until the 7-day cycle completed itself before going back to the Shaman’s office and ransacking it, trying to find some way to reverse the hex.

Adam had decided to forego clothes while he was in his apartment after the hands ripped apart his favourite t-shirt when they were finding difficulty getting it over the man’s head. The hands had decided to take full advantage of Adam’s nudity all morning. It’s only 1pm and Adam feels like he’s cum enough for a lifetime.

He was woken up to the feeling of two thumbs slowly dragging around the crown of his cock, teasing him mercilessly as his ankles and wrists were restrained by other limbs. They spent one hour teasing the head of Adam’s cock until it was red and sensitive, and absolutely saturated with pre-cum. When Adam finally did shoot his load, the force of the orgasm was enough to make him black out for a moment, waking up with a large puddle of cum on his stomach and a soft, but incredibly sensitive cock.

He had thought with such a wake-up call, the hands might give him a break for the day. He was wrong, they milked him in the shower, the kitchen, the living room and even his closet. He was sick and tired of the spontaneous molesting, but there was nothing he could do about it. The lack of human contact was also bothering, with the only interaction he’d had all day being the landlord coming up to his room to tell him about several ‘noise complaints’ he had receiving.

It’s not Adam’s fault that he’s being milked senseless every day - it’s not like he could try to keep quiet when he has a palm dragging slowly around the head of his sensitive cock. Okay, well it is Adam’s fault but he’ll moan if he damn well needs to!

At least there’s only one more day to go before the cycle resets to something more manageable.


Adam realises that doesn’t matter if he can’t survive the last day. He’s slumped over the railing of his balcony, completely naked with his thighs quaking and his balls empty. He doesn’t know how many loads the hands milked out of him in the space of an hour and a half - four, maybe? Five?

All while completely exposed and naked to the bustling street below him. Adam was high enough that they probably couldn’t make much out, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating. He had just went outside to water a few plants when he felt the itching on his finger. Dread filling his stomach, he dove to the door but fumbled with the handle, and within seconds he was wrestled over to the railing, being bent over and held in place by the strong disembodied limbs.

They wasted no time in fucking Adam open on their fingers while massaging his swollen, sensitive cock and tugging at his poor, overworked nuts. Adam wasn’t used to so many hands at once, they seemed to be everywhere - his ass, cock, balls, nipples, he even felt them play at the soles of his feet!

Giving up all pretense of modesty, Adam screamed at the top of his lungs as his cum shot out in long ropes onto the street below him - splashing onto the head of some unfortunate passerby on their way to work for the morning. Adam went pale when he realised that the hands weren’t done, and they would continue to milk him until he was panting and exhausted, completely drained of all cum.

He crawled back inside his apartment after the ordeal, realising that there was no way he’d be able to last even one more day. Building up all his resolve, he grabbed some clothes and head out to the Shaman’s apartment.


The Shaman sighed as he entered his office, hanging up his coat and running his fingers through his hair. The last call had been messy. Someone had emptied a tub of cock leeches into a college swim meet, and the Shaman’s wrist was tired from milking so many jocks. By the time he had gotten the last of the cock leeches out, the pool water was a cloudy white. But at least that was over with, now he could relax and put on some music while reading over some magic research--

There was a man on his floor. That was most definitely an understatement. There was a man on his floor being assaulted by disembodied hands. They seemed to be coming out of the shaman’s wooden floor, seven hands in total. Some held the boy down by his feet and hands, while the other preoccupied themselves with other parts of his body.

One hand was stroking up and down the man’s thick, 8” shaft while another roughly palmed the head of his cock, making the man squirm and spasm. Judging by the cum splattering his face and furry chest, this had been going on for some time. He didn’t even seem particularly responsive to anything else except the hands.

The Shaman used his foot to gently open the man’s thighs, closed tight in a vain attempt to stop the hands from tormenting his cock and balls. He saw another hand tucked beneath the boy, pistoning three fingers into his ass. This was curious… what’s happening to him, and why is it happening here of all places?

That’s when it clicked for him. The Shaman rushed over to the cabinet and opened the jewellery box sitting on top, realising that the hexed ring he was supposed to disenchant was missing. He had forgotten about it completely, letting it slip from his mind. This man must have stolen it, and managed to suffer through a whole week of the hex.

The hex would allow demons from hell to temporarily manifest in the physical plane within a vicinity of the person who wore the ring. Every day, they would grow more powerful until the seventh day, where they would have gathered enough life-energy from their target to manifest in their full form.

The Shaman ran back to the room, quickly throwing a magical barrier around the writhing man, beginning to disenchant the hex as the demons continued to milk him more and more vigorously. They could sense what the shaman was doing and was trying to manifest before their attempts were foiled.

It took at least an hour, and a lot of the shaman’s magic, but eventually the hands sunk into the floor and the mark disappeared from the man’s hand. He lay there on the ground, motionless save for the rise and fall of his diaphram and the occasional twitch of his toes and his body works through the aftershocks of his many successive orgasms. The ring had re-formed around his finger, once again harmless. The shaman took it off and held it in his hand.

There was still the matter of the would-be thief’s punishment. The Shaman pondered over the possible new hexes he could place on the ring the punish the exhausted man on his floor. Penis transformation? Increased sensitivity? All of the above?

It was no matter, he had time to think. The exhausted thief would be unconscious for at least a few hours. That would give the Shaman plenty of time to devise a cruel yet fitting hex just for him.