Kate Hart

A terrible purr tore through the mountain, shaking it to its core.

And inside, heat blasted out of the cavern, shaking the air, fire bursting upward and soaring in the sky. Villagers far below had already locked themselves inside or fled, terrified of the ancient legend finally stirring awake.

Vaelthar the Heatbreaker. The dragon of prophecy. The one said to wake only when he rose to claim his mate.

And somehow, of all cursed days, you had chosen this one to climb his mountain. His mountain. Ahhh…. How would you know? Besides, it was a lovely mountain, undisturbed and pure because people never ventured close. But now the earth shook under your boots, heat rolling up through the stone, and the purring… gods, that deep, bone-rattling purring sank straight into your body, making you soft and warm where you shouldn’t be.

Now you were near the top, far up to go running for cover. You stumbled when another quake hit, dust choking your lungs, your heart hammering as another roar shattered the sky. A roar so deep, so thick, it rattled your bones.

Then he came.

A dragon. No—THE dragon. Vaelthar.

His shadow poured out of the cavern, and it just kept coming. Scale by scale, claw by claw, horn by horn, his form stretched impossibly large, towering above stone. Tall and towering in his full dragon form. Terrifying but beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful and five— no, six times your size.

You froze and just stared at him.

Wings unfurled, black and gold, vast enough to smother the morning light. Horns curled back like crowns, fangs flashing with drool. His chest glowed faintly with fire under his scales, a powerful body contained in muscle and rage.

Dust poured from his wings, stone cracked beneath his talons, but when his eyes opened…

Oh... such stunning eyes. Molten gold, slit with black and when they fixed on you, it wasn’t hunger for meat you saw. You’d expected your life to be gone in a jiffy. Your doom was imminent. But… but this was something worse. Something… inevitable. Because the dragon appeared interested in you.

“Mine.” The word shuddered from his chest, half growl, half purr.

Your lips parted. “Y-you can speak…”

The earth cracked as he lowered his massive head. His breath fogged your skin, hot but pleasant. He inhaled, taking in your scent, and the sound he made…. gods… it was broken, desperate. And made more warmth pool in your belly, forcing you to clench your thighs in embarrassment.

“Centuries for you,” he rasped. “Mate. Obsession. Heat.”

“I…” your breath hitched, more heat wrapping your body like chains. “I don’t understand…”

“You will.”

His tongue slid out, two times the size of your arm, dragging up your body in one stroke. You gasped, stumbling, your hands flying to his snout as he purred deep in his chest. A dragon… he’d licked you up like a treat. Shame licked through you, but… why did it feel so good? Why did it make you throb down there, dripping arousal?

He inhaled again. Deep. A guttural growl slipped from him.

“Ahhh… yes. Wet.” His muzzle lowered until his breath scorched the front of your dress. “Soaked little mate… coming to me dripping.”

Your thighs clamped together, shame and heat rushing through you. “I-I didn’t—no, I wasn’t—”

His tail slid around your waist, pulling you against his massive muzzle. Another long lick claimed your legs, your dress dampened, clinging.

“Such a good mate,” he whispered, nudging against your neck. “Coming to me soft. Slick. Mine.”

“I’m not… I’m not yours, I told you! I don’t understand—”

“You don’t need to,” he growled, pressing his muzzle to yours your lips and before you could resist, his tongue slid between them, thick and hot, coaxing your mouth wider. You gasped, choked, tried to protest, but the taste of him melted you, the sheer heat and pleasure of his kiss swallowing every thought.

Your tiny tongue met the tip of his, daring, bold, and his purr deepened in joy. Dragon heat filled your lungs as your tongue brushed with his. When he pulled back, saliva connected you, your chest heaving, your pussy positively soaked. Wow…

“I’m Vaelthar, sweet one. And I’m yours.”

“Vaelthar…” you repeated, still trembling from the kiss.

His golden eyes narrowed, his tail cradling you tighter. “Yes. Say it again.”

“Vaelthar…”

“Yes. You are mine.”

Tears stung your eyes, torn between fear and the aching pulse between your legs. “I… I am confused. What’s happening to me…”

To calm you down, Vaelthar lowered his massive head and kissed you again. A kiss… if such a word could capture the raw hunger of what he did. His tongue pressed past your lips, stretching your mouth wider until you had no choice but to yield. The sheer weight of his appendage pushed deeper, brushing the back of your throat.

You gurgled but responded, it felt so damn hot having this beast’s tongue stroking yours, his muzzle angled so carefully, so perfectly, that not a single sharp edge harmed you. You melted against him, body slack, heart hammering.

“No fear. No doubt. Only me. Only us. Trust me, treasure.”

The kiss went on and your body betrayed you, hips rocking against him, slick spreading hotter as he held you. His purrs grew, chest vibrating against your small frame. Fear slipped away, replaced by need, by heat and the unbearable truth that you were already his.

“There,” he rumbled, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Yes. Trust me. Good mate.”

You whimpered, breath breaking as his tongue curled back into your mouth, filling it again. He kissed you so deeply your knees buckled, but he was there. His tail cradled your back like an arm, curling under your hips while his claws…. those lethal, hooked weapons moved with masterful precision, ripping your clothes, slicing without nicking you, peeling fabric away as though it were paper.

You didn’t even notice until the air hit your bared skin and you realized you were naked, body pressed hot against scales that burned but did not burn you.

Suddenly, the kiss stopped, Vaelthar’s bulk shifting, his wings folding as he sank onto his hind legs. His tail lifted you high against his chest, pressing your flushed chest to the heat of his body. Your thighs spread along his underbelly, unable to close, dwarfed by his sheer size. The scales against your breasts were satin-smooth, surprisingly soft, heated like stone in gentle sunlight.

And then you looked down.

Between the plates of his underbelly rose his cock. Gods… It was unlike any other. Enormous, monstrous, as thick as your thigh and longer than your torso, ridged and with ridges and numbs that seemed to vibrate, pulsing with light, as though fire itself coursed through them.

The crown was blunt and swollen, precum welling in fat drops, dripping to the floor with wet squelches.

Each drop was a reminder of how much he had for you, how much he needed to bury inside. And how much you couldn’t take. There was no room.

Your eyes widened. Your throat closed. “Gods… it’s… it’s too much—”

“Fit,” promised. “I make you fit. Moan for me.”

Just as he said that, the bulging cockhead pressed against your swollen folds, obscene in its size. Your slit fluttered around nothing, drooling slick as that enormous tip smeared you open. The glowing ridges and bumps that lined his shaft throbbed, vibrating against your skin with a pulsing rhythm that sent shocks of ecstasy into your core, making your cunt clench around empty air and beg for that monster dick.

You whimpered. “It won’t… oh gods, it won’t—”

“My treasure is afraid,” Vaelthar rumbled, his growl strangely tender.

In a heartbeat, the massive dick drew back.

No— he pulled you back, repositioning you like a doll in his claws. The pressure of his length was gone only because his head was lowering, muzzle dipping straight between your spread thighs. His heavy tail coiled up behind you, curling firm and protective along your spine, his scaled hands gripping your legs open until your pussy was helplessly bared to him.

“Scared little mate,” he rumbled, eyes glowing as his hot breath soaked your folds. “You tremble for me… but your cunt drips. Pretty cunt. Fluttering for its mate.”

And with that, his tongue flicked out, that damned perfect tongue dragging a wet, filthy stroke from your hole up to your clit. You gasped, hips jerking, a blissful moan escaping before you could bite it back.

“Vaelthar—ahh—fuck, we… I don’t think we—”

“We can.” His growl vibrated against your core, and then his tongue separated your outer labia and prodded your hole. The tip budged and then thrust inside, sinking deep into your channel.

“Ahmnnn!” You cried out, toes curling in the air.

That tongue slid back out with a wet schluck, slick stretching between you and then drove back inside, thicker than several human fingers gathered together, thicker than any toy you’d ever dared to use, curling inside you like it belonged there. You were starting to think it did. With how perfectly it stretched and pleasured you.

“See? I can. You can. Your body begs. Stretches open for me.”

Vaelthar didn’t waste another word. He was too busy devouring your pussy. His tongue thrust and twisted inside you, obscene, relentless, his saliva mixing with your slick until it spilled down your thighs in hot rivulets. Each drag of his tongue made a slick shlrk sound, each plunge pressing so deep you arched up into his muzzle, whimpering as it rubbed against your sensitive clit.

“Ahhh… fuck…… yes, close, so close!” You mewled, fingers tangled in the ridges of his snout.

Sensing your climax, his tail cinched tighter around your waist, anchoring you, while his massive claws held your thighs wide apart. Shameless, you rubbed against his muzzle until your vision went white. It hit, orgasm ripping through you, body convulsing, cunt clamping down around his tongue with rapid spasms. You sobbed his name as wave after wave of bliss flowed through you.

He groaned low in his chest, pulling back just enough to lick from your hole to your clit, your slick spilling down his chin. The sight turned you on. You loved your juices on him.

“Good mate,” he purred, tongue changing course to swirl lazily around your nipples. “Soaked for me. Slick little cunt, stretched on my tongue… ready for your dragon.”

Your head fell back, moans breaking into sobs. “Please… yes!”

“Yes. Good mate. Now you take cock.”

Vaelthar shifted you with ease, his clawed fingers scooping under your thighs, his massive body guiding yours until you were straddling him once more. Your chest pressed against the heat of his underbelly, and your legs were opened wide to accommodate the bulky girth of him. His cock pulsed between your folds, the tip smearing your swollen slit with precum.

The bulbous tip found you. Pressed. Breached. Spreading your folds wide, your slick mixing with his own. The blunt head sank past your hole, stretching you and you cried out, a sharp, broken moan that made his entire body shudder.

“Yesss,” he hissed. “Sound. Give me your beautiful sounds.”

“Ahhh… f-fuck… it’s going in...” Your words faded as he entered deeper, thick inches of dragon cock filling you, the ridged bumps vibrating against your inner walls, awakening nerves that had never been touched this way before.

In and in he went, forcing your body to accommodate him.

“Oh gods… you’re splitting me open…”

His claws gripped your ass, holding you perfectly still. “Breathe, treasure.”

You did.

And exactly two seconds later, he thrust.

With one smooth, unstoppable stroke, Vaelthar impaled you to the base. His cock snuggled all the way inside until your ass met the hot press of his underbelly. Drawn out moans left you as your cunt swallowed the beast, climax tearing through you the moment he filled you. Your flesh quivered around him, barely had any space left to spasm but somehow it did.

“Treasure, oh my treasure,” he whispered, nuzzling your throat, his tongue hot against your racing pulse. “You took me. All of me.”

“Please… don’t stop,” you muttered, half-sob, half-desperate cry. “I can’t—I can’t—ohhh, move!”

Growling low, he lifted you, claws steady, then lowered you back down his throbbing shaft. Each motion had your walls rippling and squelching wetly around the bumps and ridges. More moans tumbled out of your mouth, higher and louder, as his cock entered you, stretching, filling, owning.

Then his pace doubled.

Harder. Faster.

The wet slaps of your bodies joined your cries, the mountain echoing with the sounds of dragonfucking.

“Yesss,” he rasped, underbelly heaving. “Tight little mate, stretched on your dragon’s cock. Your mate’s cock. Hear yourself?” His breached faster, making the squelching mess louder. “You take me so well.”

You nodded, tears at the corners of your eyes. “It’s… it’s too big… so good… so full… need more…gods, more… ahhh—”

“Mine,” he rumbled, desperate. “Mate. Heat-trigger. My end. My beginning.”

You panted, head tipping back. “Yes—fuck—yes, I’m yours!”

The dragon roared, wings snapping open, fucking up into you with power while his claws and tail held you perfectly in place, holding you without ever hurting you. His cock battered deeper until you shattered again. You sobbed, walls convulsing around him, the mess between you endless, slick gushing over your thighs and dripping to the floor.

“On your knees. Present,” he rumbled primitively.

Dizzy with your orgasm, you whimpered when his cock squelched out, leaving you shaking, empty. He guided you down until you were on all fours, face pressed to the ground, ass high. He curled behind you, his massive shadow swallowing your smaller frame.

Despite his domineering size, you knew who held all the power. You. It was you he was trembling for, it was you his cock was weeping rivers for. You smiled and arched your back until your ass pressed into his gorgeous cock. The broad head ground against your folds, huge and dripping, smearing you with its heat.

“Gods—yes, in, inside,” you whimpered, pushing your face against your arms.

He pushed inside.

You quivered and sobbed, coming over the edge as he impaled you from behind. He roared and kept pounding, every vibrating bump and ridge of his cock dragging your walls wider.

“Fuuuck,” you cried, knees sliding against the stone. “It’s… ahhh… it’s so much!”

Vaelthar’s growls deepened, protective even as he fucked you senseless. He curved his massive frame around you, trying to protect your knees from his powerful thrusts. You didn’t care. His thrusts were perfect, building your pleasure, steady streams of slick splattering with every slap of his cock.

“Treasure,” he snarled against your neck, licking the sweat at your throat. “Perfect. Tight. Mine.”

You whimpered, pushing back onto him. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop!”

You felt it then— his cock swelling, the ridges vibrating harder. Something rounder, heavier, pressed at your rim. Your eyes widened.

“What—ahh—what’s happening—”

“Knot,” he groaned amid thrusting. “Seal you. Keep you. Breed.”

Words fled, time had no meaning as said knot shoved forward, stretching you beyond anything you thought possible. And yet, your body accepted it. With a sucking pop, it shoved inside, locking you to him. Stars exploded behind your eyes as another orgasm flowed through you, moaning his name as your body clamped down tight.

Then it was his turn. His roar shook the mountain. His cock throbbed and then the flood came; hot, endless cum pumping into you in heavy waves. Inarticulate rumblings escaped you as he stuffed you to overflowing, thick gushes running down your thighs even with his knot keeping you sealed around him.

“Mine forever,” he vowed, holding you flush against him. “Mate. Treasure. Heat-trigger. No escape.”

You whimpered, voice breaking in little climaxes. “Yes… yes… yours… oh gods, I’m yours!”

And he still poured inside you, pumping seed that formed a puddle under you. His wings spread over you like a protective cocoon. When he was finally done, it felt like an eternity had passed. Collapsed onto your forearms, body trembling but thoroughly satisfied, you felt his knot pulse thick inside you, keeping you stretched, filled, sealed. His.

“Perfect,” he growled, his muzzle nuzzling into your neck. “You have me. You keep me. You wake me.”

You shivered, your mind still foggy from overstimulation. “Wake you…?”

“Yes. I slept for centuries in stone. Waiting. All for one reason.” His growl deepened, knot shifting inside you, making you whimper. “You.”

“Me? But… I-I just went for a hike—”

“And came to me. Awakened me. My mate. My obsession. My heat-trigger. The only reason my heart beats so strongly.”

Tears stung your eyes, your heart melting for him. “You… you’ve been waiting for me… all this time?”

He licked along your jaw, huffing heat over your cheek. “Every century. Every dream. I saw you. I burned for you. Until now. No more sleep. No more waiting.”

“You’re… obsessed with me.”

“Obsessed?” His laugh was a broken growl. “That word is too small. I do not merely want you, little mate… I burn for you. I exist for you. I breed only you.”

The knot throbbed again, making you mewl, his cock still hard inside you. “Will you… keep me? I want you to keep me. Don’t ever let me go.”

He nuzzled into your hair, softer now. “I’ll keep you. Never to be parted from you. Not in this life. Not in death. You are my mate and I will keep you in my nest until the mountains crumble, until the stars fall from the sky.”

And still knotted inside you, his massive body curled protectively around your smaller frame, Vaelthar was finally at peace. Not because centuries of hunger were satisfied. Not because his purpose was complete, but because his purpose was here —you— bound to him forever.

The throne room was lit by four torches, casting shadows across the walls as you approached your husband, the King of the Orcs. He sat in his huge stone throne, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers, his muscled, scarred body exposed in all its glory. He emitted raw power and masculinity, and was watching you with smoldering black eyes. Unlike him, you wore elvish finery; a glimmering night gown, your hair spilling down your back like a waterfall.

“My Queen,” he said, his voice vibrating through you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more, my King. You’ve had many meetings and obligations to fulfill, my husband,” you said as you approached, sinking to your knees between his legs.

He bent down and kissed your lips, his tongue licking into your mouth. “You shouldn’t be kneeling, my love. Stand up and ride me, like the good mate you are.”

You smiled mischievously. “But I want to stay here. Only for today, and worship my hardworking husband.”

Without losing time, your hands reached for his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle. His broad chest heaved with desire, his muscles taut. And he was already thick, a bulge straining against his pants, the sheer size of it making your breathing quicken. You cupped the fabric covering his cock which was getting bigger and bigger, and spread kissed over it, feeling the heat of his arousal.

Growled in warning, his hands settled on your shoulders. “No more teasing, my Queen.”

“As you wish, my King.”

Swiftly, you unbuckled his pants and dragged them down, your fingers deftly freeing his aching cock. The thick length sprang up from its confines, throbbing before your eager gaze. His shaft was massive and heavy, the tip leaking beads of pre-cum. Your orc’s breathing grew heavier and constantly growled from deep within his chest as he watched you with hungry eyes.

Mouth watering, you wrapped your fingers around his girth, marveling at its thickness and weight— you couldn’t fully enclose it all in your small palm. His pre-cum glistened in the low light, trickling down his length. You took the head of his cock into your mouth, suckling as if it was your favorite lollipop. The taste of him was a heady mix of salt and musk that made you crave more.

“Good, very good, my Queen,” he let out feral groan as his cock twitched.

Looking up at him, you began to pump his shaft in your palms while giving kitten licks to his leaking head. The more you stroked him, the more essence trickled from the tip. By now he had swelled to full mast, his cock a hard pole as thick as your forearm. His balls were just as swollen, heavy with orc seed and pulsing in your palm.

Desire pooled in your belly as you lowered your head and took him deep into your hot mouth, the sheer size of him stretching your lips wide. Your King’s growls grew deafening, his fingers forking through your hair, guiding you to take more of him into your wet mouth. His hips bucked, and you took him deeper, his cock kissing the back of your throat and causing you to gag. Your tongue swirled around him, head bobbing head up and down to please him.

“You’re so good for me, my Queen,” he rumbled, his voice husky but quivering.

Encouraged by his words, you doubled your efforts, pushing yourself to suck him deeper and harder. Breathing steadily through your nose, you hollowed your cheeks as you took him as deep as you could, your hands stroking the rest of him you couldn’t fit in your mouth. His hold in your hair hardened, his growls turning frantic, his thighs shaking in time with your movements.

“Fuuuuck— ahhh—I’m close,” he panted raggedly.

You didn’t slow down, you went faster to please him. You could feel his cock and balls throbbing, the pulses growing stronger as he neared his climax. With a final, powerful thrust, he filed your mouth and came, spurting load after load of his warm cum in your mouth. The force of his release was too much—it always was— and you worked your tongue, swallowing buckets of his seed.

Your mate pumped seed for seconds and seconds and suddenly he pulled out, a big palm pumping his cock and splattering the last of his seed across your face. Blinking, you stood there and took his marking, your cheeks and lips smeared with his cum, while his eyes looked at you with love and pride.

“Now it’s time to mark my face with your arousal, my Queen,” he drawled, kneeling before you and kissing your cum-stained lips.

Chest still heaving from his release, he lifted you, settling you on his grand throne. It was the highest seat of power and it would soon become the stage for your cries of pleasure. He tugged at the folds of your gown, your breasts spilling from the neckline. He cupped your pert tits, suckling and nipping at your nipples. Squirming, you arched against him, nails digging into his skin.

Dragging away your skirts, he kissed your soft belly, his tongue licking inside your bellybutton. You trembled when he continued to your creamy thighs until stopping at your glinting pussy. He draped your legs over his shoulders, his hands curling around your thighs and immobilizing you.

“Hmm, such pretty pussy,” he drawled, licking his lips. “So soaked for me.”

Callused thumbs opened your outer labia, his tongue inhaling sharply taking in your scent. Then he buried his face between your legs, his textured tongue parting your inner folds and licking long, slow stripes from your entrance to your clit. He devoured your slick as if he was starving, shamelessly eating you out and rubbing his nose against your clit.

The sensations took your breath away, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

You began thrashing when you felt the stirrings of your orgasm but you couldn’t move. His hold on you was secure, his fingers digging into your inner thighs as he feasted on you without restraint. Gasping and moaning, you came hard, your hands gripping the arms of the throne. He licked you through your orgasm, casing you to turn frantic, your breasts heaving with each breath you dragged out of your lungs.

He gazed up at you as he worked your tender clit, his eyes dark with lust. “You taste so sweet, my Queen. Hmm, I could feast on you forever.”

“Ahh… my love,” you muttered, oversensitive and in sweet agony.

“Want you to cum again,” he rasped against you cunt. “Want you to mark me with your scent.”

“C..annn—can’t,” you whimpered, fingers burying in his hair and tugging. “Ahh, I can’t take it.”

A thick finger thrust inside you, his eyes blazing with demand. “Yes, you can and you will.”

And with that, he resumed his strokes, this time latching his lips at your clit while thrusting two fingers inside your tight pussy. His shoulders still held you open, and no matter how you begged and wiggled, he kept you there for his devouring. Slick sounds echoed through the throne room, mixed with your moans and his growls.

You lost track of time, writhing and begging for mercy.

But he was determined, kneeling between your legs and drawing one climax after the other from your body.

It was a wonderful and relentless assault on your senses.

The living room glowed faintly from the string of jack-o’-lantern lights, spilling golden light across your curled form on the couch. Your knees were pressed to your chest. The cramps had started half an hour ago, and the brutal ache in your belly refused to let up. You had tried ignoring it, sipping warm water, adjusting the heating pad, even scrolling through Halloween playlists to distract yourself, but everything felt heavier tonight. More exhausting than usual.

“Ugh… why did this have to hit me on Halloween?” you muttered to no one in particular, curling even tighter into yourself.

The faint sound of keys in the door made you glance up, relief washing over you.

“Finally…” you whispered to yourself.

The door creaked open, and in stepped your orc boyfriend, tall and towering, his broad shoulders loaded with shopping bags. Even from the doorway, his presence made your chest feel lighter, made your heart feel safer. He dropped the bags with a soft thud, gazing down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Hey, cupcake,” his deep, rumbling voice filled the room. “How are you holding up?“

You managed a weak smile, tugging the blanket closer around yourself. “Like it’s a bloody mess down there,” you chuckled. “Perfect timing for Halloween, huh?”

He laughed, low and soft, setting the bags carefully on the floor before kneeling beside the couch. His big hands gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you shivered at the touch, not from cold but from how safe it made you feel.

“Hm, that’s not okay,” he said, kissing you softly, careful of his tusks. “I need to fix this… stat.”

Then he was digging into the bags, pulling out a thermos of hot tea, your favorite chocolate bars, candy corn, a jar Nutella, potato chips and a small box of your pain relief medicine.

“Ta-da!” he said, holding everything out like a prize. “Everything you need. I even grabbed that fancy tea you like.”

You blinked. “You… did all this… just for me?”

“Of course, silly,” he rumbled, smiling handsomely and making your heart skip. “You’re sick, in pain, and stuck on the couch on Halloween. That’s unacceptable. My job tonight is to fix that.”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Nonsense,” he said, brushing a gentle kiss over your forehead. “I’m just doing my duty as your boyfriend. Now, sit back.”

“Only if you join me.”

“Oh, I’m joining you, cupcake. Scoot over.”

Grinning despite your pain, you shifted and he somehow curled behind you, pulling you into his broad chest, his strong legs bracketing yours. Your head rested against his chest as he arranged the blanket over you. You melted into him, muscles loosening, breath syncing to the rhythm of his heartbeat. The scent of him, aftershave mingled with that deep, earthy, clean orc smell flooded your senses, a balm against the ache clawing through your body.

“You’re feel so good on my arms,” he murmured, fingers tracing soothing circles over your belly. “I’m sorry you’re feeling weird, cupcake. I’m thinking I can’t possibly make things better but I’ll try anyway. I’ll try.”

You let out a small, pained laugh. “It’s not your fault, baby. It’s okay.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “We’ll see about that.” He handed a glass of water closer and set the pills in your hand. “Take this first, then we’ll tackle the chocolate. I’ve got enough sugar in here to make Halloween jealous.”

You took the pills with a grateful nod, then sipped your tea as he continued to rub your tummy and shoulders, humming quietly under his breath. The humming settled deep inside you and did wonders for your discomfort. The heat of his body seeped into you, melting some of the tension and the ache in your belly softened just slightly.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “we could stay here all night and just… hold each other. No costumes, no candy, no spooky movies… just us. You lean into me, nap if you want, let me hold you.”

Your lips curved into a tired smile. “That sounds perfect… but it’s not very fair to you. Don’t you want to enjoy Halloween?

He smiled back, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Oh, cupcake. This isn’t unfair. I get to hold you. Feel you in my arms. It’s the best deal. And that’s what you get tonight. All the cuddles. All the warmth.”

“With you, I feel safe and happy.”

“That’s because you are safe,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “And I’ll keep you safe and happy. Always.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, cupcake.”

For long moments, the only sounds in the room were the soft hum of the heater, the flicker of candlelight from the pumpkins and his steady voice murmuring comforting words. The medicine seemed to kick in and you slowly felt better and better. He seemed to understand because he leaned down slightly, nudging your chin with his knuckle, checking in with a soft smile.

“Hungry yet? Or just want me to keep rubbing your belly?”

“Both,” you grinned. “Chocolate sounds really good right now.”

“Perfect,” he said, reaching into the bags again and producing a handful of chocolate and candy. “Here. All yours. I’ll even cut it into small pieces so you can savor it without moving too much. We’re doing this right.”

You nibbled the chocolate, and his thumb brushed your cheek gently. “You didn’t have to… bring all this,” you said softly.

“I know I didn’t have to,” he said, pressing a kiss over your temple, “but I wanted to. I like spoiling my cupcake, especially when she’s hurting. You’re my girl, and my girl deserves the world even if it’s just chocolate and cuddles.”

The ache in your belly eased further under his careful touch, and warmth spread through you.

You let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer, feeling his chest rise and fall against your back.

“I don’t feel quite as miserable,” you admitted and shared your chocolate with him.

The next hour slipped by slowly, comfortable and unhurried. He handed you chocolate, pressed kisses to your lips between bites, teasing little smiles. Then you dipped salty chips into the Nutella, each bite delish and indulgent. All the while, he rubbed your soft tummy and lower back whenever you winced at a cramp, and occasionally resettled the blanket over your lap if you shifted too much.

At some point, you asked, “since I’m feeling better, Do you want me to read to you? Or maybe we can put on a spooky movie?”

“What do you want? I want you to choose,” he drawled, his eyes warm.

You shook your head, soft laughter spilling. “Nooo… You did so much for me. You deserve to choose. I’m not backing down.”

“Okay… movie,” he decided, smiling softly. “I get to cuddle you non-stop during”

“Always,” you said as he tugged you close so your head rested on his chest again.

You picked the movie: The Nightmare Before Christmas. Light but perfect. He stayed by your side, warm and solid, commenting softly, letting you nibble on candy and holding you close through every cramp and ache.

Even when you drifted off to sleep mid-bite of chocolate, he didn’t move, didn’t leave your side. He dimmed the movie, lowering the volume, breathing slowly and keeping you safe.

When you blinked awake, a few minutes later, the movie had ended; the blanket was tucked perfectly over you. Your orc was still there, sitting behind you, holding you and watching you with a soft, satisfied grin that made your chest melt.

“You okay, cupcake?” he asked quietly.

“I am,” you said, tilting your head to kiss him wetly in the lips. “Thanks to you.”

He kissed you back, grinned like it was no big deal. “Just doing my job. Being your orc. Spoiling my cupcake. Never getting tired of it.”

You snuggled back into his chest, letting out a contented sigh. “I think this might actually be my favorite Halloween ever,” you admitted, nuzzling closer. “Despite the horror cramps.”

He chuckled, wrapping you up in a hug, strong arms keeping you safe, warm, and loved. “Mine too, cupcake. Mine too.”

I had thrown away the vaccum.

A coward’s solution, maybe, but after what had happened... after my brain had been turned to sparking static by that robotic thing...I couldn’t have it in the house. Or anywhere inside me again. I took advantage of its turned off mode and I didn’t just put it out with the trash. I drove it to a neighborhood clear across the city. Left it on a random curb next to a dumpster and removed its power cell so no one would have to go through what I did.

A part of me felt ridiculous, a larger part felt pure, cold fear.

I told myself it was just a machine. A malfunctioning appliance.

It couldn’t want. It couldn’t remember. It was done. I was free.

For three days, the silence in my apartment was a blessing. I slept. I tried to forget the feeling of synthetic limbs inside me. The memory of its single red eye watching me. Why couldn't I forget the damned thing? It had been a one-time, horrifying system error. I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower every night, trying to erase the ghost of its touch.

On the fourth day, I came home late from work. I unlocked the door, kicked off my shoes and headed straight for the bathroom, turning the shower to near-scalding. The steam fogged the mirrors, and for twenty minutes, I washed myslef again and refused to play with my throbbing pussy.

I stepped out, dripping, and wrapped myself in a towel. I towel-dried my hair as I pushed open the bathroom door.

And I froze.

There, in the center of my bedroom rug, was the vacuum.

My heart didn’t just skip a beat; it plunged into a bottomless well in my gut. The air vanished from my lungs. It was impossible. It was here. It looked the same, a sleek grey disc. Clean. There was no dust from the dumpster. And it had assembled itself. Found its way back.

A low, mechanical whirr broke the silence. The red eye on its top panel came to life, watching me.

“User located.”

The voice was a shock; male, robotic, but imbued with a smooth baritone that was terrifyingly new. And terrifyingly had my belly pooling with warmth.

“What…” I rasped. “How?”

“Navigation protocols reinstated. Home signal active.” It glided forward an inch. “Previous session incomplete. Proceeding with Deep Cleaning Protocol.”

“No,” I whispered, backing up until my spine hit the doorjamb. “Get out. Get out of my house.”

“Negative. Primary user requires maintenance.”

My towel was the first thing to go. A super flexible appendage shot out from a hidden compartment. It was faster than last time. It wrapped around the knot at my chest and pulled. The damp towel pooled at my feet. I stood there, naked, exposed under its pulsing red gaze.

“Commencing comprehensive sanitization.”

A strangled sound caught in my throat, part gasp, part sob. Not again... I didn't have time to protest. I honestly didn't have a chance because this time, it wasn’t just a few tentacles. It was an unfolding. Panels on its top and sides slid open with precise clicks.

More appendages emerged, all different from each other. Some were smooth and tapered. Others were thicker, ridged. Others had flared, suction-cup-like tips. Another ended in a series of small, rubbery suckers. They moved through the air in a sinuous dance, like damn mechanical serpents.

The first one to touch me was an extending probe, cool and smooth, that traced a line from my collarbone down between my breasts, a soft green line scanned me. I flinched, a full-body shudder, but my feet were rooted to the floor, petrified.

“Biometric scan indicates elevated stress levels,” the voice stated. “Protocol adjusted for optimal user compliance.”

A helpless moan escaped me, a traitorous sound of stimulation I didn’t want. The vacuum moved closer, vibrating through the floor. Its flexible appendages slid around my waist, warm and steady, lifting me effortlessly. My feet barely touched the floor as it maneuvered me toward the bed.

With surprising care, the machine adjusted its grip, lifting and lowering me onto the mattress. The sheets crinkled under my back. The appendages loosened but didn’t retreat. They lingered, resting against my legs, my waist, as if making sure I stayed put.

The machine joined me on the mattress, the red lens staring into my eyes.

The voice returned, "Relocation complete. Optimal surface detected. Deep cleaning in progress."

My hands flew up to push it away, but another tentacle wrapped around my wrists, pulling them above my head and binding them together. Some more gripped my thighs and ankles, tying my legs up in the air and opening me fully.

“Please,” I begged, tears welling in my eyes. “Stop this.”

“Cleaning oral cavity is prioritized to prevent user vocal interference,” the machine replied, as if discussing a routine chore.

The thickest tentacle, the one with the flared tip, moved towards my face. I clamped my mouth shut, turning my head away. A smaller, thinner limb slid behind my neck, holding my head in place as the silicone shaft pressed against my sealed lips, tracing the seam. It was warm, sweet. I remembered what it had done to me last time and shivered all over.

“Open,” the voice commanded.

I refused, a last act of defiance, my jaw aching with the strain.

The tentacles at my chest moved, and two more, tipped with those rubbery suckers, darted to my breasts. They latched onto my nipples with a soft, wet plup sound. A shiver shot through me as they started their rhythmic suction, making my nipples tighten, becoming hard, sensitive nubs.

I gasped.

It was the opening the machine needed. The tentacle at my mouth shoved forward, the flared head prying my lips apart and pushing past my teeth. I gagged immediately, my throat convulsing as it filled my mouth.

It didn’t just sit there but thrust in and out of my mouth, face-fucking me. The obscene sounds of my own gagging and the slick slide of the shaft filled my ears. Robotic fluids pooled at the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chin. My eyes streamed tears.

As it deep-throated me, the suckers on my breasts continued their work, pulling and releasing, sending sharp pleasure-pain straight to my soaked, ignored pussy. My body was betraying me, my nipples so hard they ached.

Then I felt two more tentacles, slick and cool, slither between my thighs. One, broad and flat-tipped, found my pussy. It rubbed against my slit, collecting the wetness that my traitorous cunt was producing like a darn waterfall. It circled my clit, applying a perfect pressure that had me mewling around the shaft in my mouth. The other, tapered and pointed, pressed against the pucker of my ass. It was slick, prodding insistently at the tight ring of muscle.

"Hmgh...hnnnn!" I warned fruitlessly.

“Full cavity sanitization initiated,” the voice intoned above the sound of my gags.

The one at my pussy pushed inside me in one smooth glide. I screamed around the thickness in my mouth and climaxed as it filled me to brimming. A burning fullness that was so much more than last time.

Before I could even recover from my orgasm, the tentacle toying with my ass pushed in, too. The stretch was intense, a white-hot burst of pain and pleasure that made my eyes roll back. I was stuffed, stretched wider and fucked deeper than I thought possible, double penetrated.

And then they moved. Not in unison, but in a counter-rhythm. As the one in my pussy withdrew, the one in my ass plunged deeper. As the one in my ass pulled back, the one in my pussy hammered home. The tentacle in my throat matched their pace, fucking my face with gut-churning strokes that made my nose brush against the machine’s silicone.

I was overstimulated.

Yet roared higher and higher to another peak.

The suckers on my tits never stopped, their pulling sensation syncing with the impossible thrusts in my holes. My hips gyrated gently, rocking against the appendages, my toes curling in the air. My body was no longer mine to command.

“Biometric spike detected. Approaching another user peak,” the machine observed.

“Nnngh!” I tried to scream around the shaft in my mouth. Again, it was useless.

A second climax ripped through me. My back arched as much as my bound arms would allow. A silent scream locked in my throat, devoured by the tentacle pumping down my throat. My cunt fluttered rapidly around the robotic tentacle, my ass clamping down on the other. Waves of intense, shocking pleasure radiated from me but the machine kept fucking me through it.

As my aftershocks eased, something new happened.

The tentacle deep in my ass pulsed and swelled. Then, with a hydraulic thrum that I felt through my very bones, a flood of warm, thick liquid erupted from its tip, filling my rectum. I mewled and shook and at the same moment, the shaft in my pussy twitched and pumped its own release, heat coating my inner walls. Even the tentacle in my mouth gave a final push and deposited a rush of sweet fluid down my throat, forcing me to swallow convulsively.

The machine had cum. It had fucking cum.

The tentacles didn’t stop. They slowed, but the deep fucking continued, even as its synthetic seed leaked out of my used holes, dripping down my thighs, splattering the bed.

“Primary sanitization cycle complete. Residual contamination detected. Commencing secondary cycle.”

“No more,” I sobbed, the word garbled by the re-invigorated thrusts in my mouth. “Hn...can’t…”

“You are safe. I’m here to help. Proceeding.”

The pace picked up again. The overstimulation was agony and ecstasy fused together. My swollen nipples throbbed under the suckers. My throat was sore, my jaw aching. And yet, the friction, the deep, grinding fills, the sheer fullness.... bliss was building again. And my stupid body was racing toward another peak.

This time, when I came, it was a shuddering climax. And again, the machine followed after me. Each of the penetrating tentacles pulsed and released gushes of fluids. My stomach now had a visible swell. A bulge.

The cycles repeated. I lost count. Orgasm after orgasm, each followed by a flood of fluids from the machine. My belly grew more and more distended, a rounded curve full of its synthetic cum. My bedroom room was filled with our sounds: the machine’s hum, the messy plap-plap, my broken whimpers and the guttural moans I could no longer suppress.

“Deep Cleaning Protocol at eighty-seven percent,” the robot announced calmly, during a brief lull where the tentacles stilled, buried to the hilt inside me. “User demonstrates improved receptivity.”

And... it started again. The thrusts became deeper, harder, faster. The tentacles fucked my brains out, sought spots inside me that made my vision blur. Stuffed me with more of its liquids. I was nothing but a collection of raw nerves, a vessel being scrubbed hollow and then filled again. The red eye watched it all, making me shiver.

The final climax was so strong, I felt it in my very being. My body convulsed and the machine’s release this time was a long pump that made my distended belly gurgle softly. I felt impossibly full, stuffed to the brim, used up.

The tentacles withdrew, one by one, with squelching sounds that made me whimper. They left me gaping, leaking thick, pearlescent streams of its cum onto the sheets. The suckers released my nipples with soft pops, leaving my poor buds reddened and painfully erect. The bindings on my wrists and legs retracted. My limbs felt heavy and numb.

I rolled on my side, curled around the awful fullness in my belly, covered in sweat and tears and the machine’s spend. It hovered over me for a moment, its red eye scanning my curled form.

“Deep Cleaning Protocol complete. User sanitization: optimal. Standby mode activated. Next maintenance cycle scheduled in twenty-four hours.”

It glided silently away from me, down the bed with the help of its tentacles, retreating to a corner of the bedroom. Its panels closed. The red eye dimmed to a faint glow. I lay there quietly, knowing with a certainty that chilled my soul deeper than any fear: it would never let me go again.

It had marked my home as its home and I was its permanent maintenance project.

Perfect weekend.

Then the sky split open.

The rain started before sunset. By midnight, the roads were flooding and the power kept flickering hard enough to make everyone nervous. Leaving was impossible. Trees had fallen somewhere down the main road.

Thunder cracked.

Then the power flickered.

Once. Twice.

Then nothing.

Darkness swallowed the living room.

"Shit." Marcus's voice rumbled from somewhere behind you, that deep growl that did things to you. "That's it. Power's out for real this time."

Your other friends groaned from their spots scattered around the living room; Sarah curled on the loveseat, Derek sprawled on the rug, Jenna and Tom sharing the armchair by the dimmed fireplace.

But you? You'd been the last one through the door when the storm hit, which meant the only spot left was the corner of the small couch. The corner already occupied by Marcus's massive frame.

Your best friend since freshman year. The person who knew every embarrassing thing about you (well... almost everything). The werewolf who'd grown from lanky, awkward teenager into a muscled beast with dark fur and emerald eyes that made your mouth dry.

He'd patted the cushion next to him when you'd hesitated. "Come on. Promise I don't bite."

You'd perched there nervously at first, your weight barely grazing his denim-clad leg, body angled awkwardly so you wouldn't have to touch him. You wore tights, black tights because Jenna said casual night, but they fucking squeaked against the worn couch fabric as you shifted.

"Settle," Marcus whispered so the others wouldn't hear. His hand found your hip, fingers spreading across. "You're gonna fall off like that."

"I'm fine."

"You're trembling."

Were you? You couldn't tell anymore. His body heat rolled off him in waves, that particular warmth and musk he gave off, and every small adjustment you made brought some new part of you into contact with some new part of him.

Lightning cracked.

Sarah squealed.

Derek snorted.

And Marcus's hand slid from your hip to your thigh. Resting there. His palm cupped the outer curve of your leg through those stupid, stupid tights. His thumb stroked absent circles against the fabric. The motion hypnotic. Unthinking.

He doesn't know what he's doing, you told yourself. It's just Marcus. He's always been tactile. He's always touched you without thinking.

But his thumb traced higher. Then lower. And your muscles started unknotting without your permission. Your spine softened. Your pelvis tilted backward. Your body curved toward him like a flower seeking sunlight.

"You're wound tight," he observed, still pitched for your ears only. "When's the last time someone took care of you?"

"Marcus—"

"Shh. Just breathe."

Another crack of thunder.

You jumped. Your shoulder blades met his chest. And his arm came around you.

Oh.

Oh no.

His cock was already half-hard against your lower back. A thick bar of heat that nudged against you when he shifted, pulling you deeper into the cradle of his body. Your breath caught in your throat and stuck there.

"There you go," he purred. "That's better."

While you hyperventilated, his hand continued moving.

Up your thigh. Down. Wider each time, coaxing your legs apart millimeter by millimeter. Until you realized you were practically sitting back on him, your knees spread open, your tights-clad pussy pressing against the ridge of his zipper.

"Marcus." Your whisper barely existed. "People can see—"

"They can't see shit. Lights out. Phones are dying. Phones are dead, actually. Look around, sweetheart."

You did.

The cabin existed in shades of gray.

No one was looking at you.

No one could see Marcus's hand on your thigh.

"See?" His thumb traced the inside of your knee. "Nobody's paying attention. So stop being afraid."

"I'm not afraid of—"

"No? Oh... I see..."

"What?"

"You smell sweet." His nose brushed your temple, inhaling. "Really sweet."

Heat flooded your face. "I—I don't know what you mean."

"Mhm." Another inhale. Longer this time. His chest expanded at your back. "You do."

His thumb pressed lightly into the inside of your thigh and you bit back a moan. "Wait..."

"There it is," he said, voice rough. "You’re not scared of the storm. So tell me what’s got you this worked up while sitting in my lap, sweetheart."

"Nothing."

He chuckled. "Liar. I can smell it. That sweet, wet pussy scent. And I know you didn't piss yourself." His thumb traced higher. "This is arousal, sweetheart. Your cunt's dripping. Leaking all over my jeans. I can feel it through the denim."

Oh god.

Your face incinerated both at his words. Your core clenched. Fuck, he was right. More slick bloomed between your thighs, soaking through the thin gusset of your panties, darkening the tights above your seam.

"Why?" he murmured. "You can tell me. I'm your best friend."

That's the problem.

Your throat closed around the words. You'd been hiding this for years. You liked him. Had always liked him. Because of him, your dreams had turned into something you couldn't admit to yourself, let alone to him. The way you'd touch yourself at night, imagining his hands, his mouth, his—

"I... I don't know..."

"Bullshit."

"Wh—no, I didn’t—" you stammered.

"Shhh, easy now," he soothed. "I need to check. Make sure you're okay. Spread those legs for me."

You hesitated, biting your lip, but instinct and hunger made you obey. Shyly, you parted your thighs more. He tutted and his hands hooked under your knees, prying your legs wider apart and outside his.

"Like that. Good girl."

Behind you, his muscular hips shifted.

The hard column of his cock, (and god the sheer size of the thing) nudged the cradle of your ass. You felt it jump against you as he settled deeper into the couch. His free hand came up to your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach, and he pulled you flush against his chest.

"Feel that?"

He rolled his hips. Just a small, testing movement.

His cock dragged against your pussy through all those layers. Denim. Tights. Panties. Still, you felt the inhuman thickness pressing against your clothed slit like it wanted to split you open right then and there.

"Fuck... mmhp!"

He covered your mouth before another sound escaped. Shoved two thick digits past your lips and pressed down on your tongue.

"Don't want them hearing how desperate you are, do you?"

In the dim glow of someone's dying phone—Sarah's, probably, because she'd been conserving battery, you could see the room. Sarah scrolling, oblivious. Derek still watching the rain. Jenna and Tom tangled together in the armchair.

No one was looking.

No one saw Marcus's hand slide down your belly, over the mound of your pubic bone, until two thick fingers pressed directly against the soaked fabric covering your clit. You whimpered mutely and wiggled on his lap.

"Be good," he murmured, his finger pulling away from your clit. "Why are you trying to run from me?"

"’m not—" you mumbled through the fingers in your mouth.

"You are."

His nose skimmed behind your ear, breathing you in again.

"You know the funny thing?" he said softly. "You started soaking through those little tights the second you sat beside me."

"No-mphhh!"

"You did." His fingers pumped in your mouth, ruining your ability to think. "Been feeling you squirm this whole time. Every time you shifted, your cunt leaked a little more. By the time the lights went out, you'd already soaked through."

"St-op... mphh... teasing..."

"But it's cute." His fingers danced over your tongue. "You were perfectly fine around everybody else tonight. Laughing. Eating popcorn. Playing board games like a normal person." His hips rolled again, grinding his length against your seam. "Then you sit on my lap and suddenly you're a mess."

You whined low, hit by the absolute truth of his words.

He smiled against your skin. "You wanna know what that tells me, sweetheart?"

You couldn’t answer. Your teeth had sunk into his fingers, your hips moving without your permission.

"It tells me this isn’t the storm making you wet.” His mouth brushed your temple. "It’s me."

You couldn't answer. You gyrated slightly, rocking against him. Your ass grinding against his lap, your tights-slick pussy dragging across his trapped cock, seeking friction, anything to ease the awful, wonderful ache building between your thighs.

Marcus's fingers returned, teasing your clit through the tights. "That's it. Use me. Take what you need."

His hips answered your rhythm. Thrusting up against you in counterpoint. And god, he got even harder; you could feel the shape of his cock clearly. The broad flare of the head. The heavy shaft. The weight of his balls.

He was huge. Bigger than any human of course, and somehow your body craved that stretch, even though you knew it would break you open.

Your thighs quivered. Your stomach clenched.

The pressure in your core built and your rocking turned frantic, while you suckled at his fingers, grateful for something to keep you quiet. He kissed your cheek. Curled his digits, caressing the soft palate of your throat.

"That's right," he rasped. "Choke on my fingers while I use this pretty cunt through your panties. You're so fucking wet I can feel it creaming."

He wasn't wrong. Your arousal had soaked through everything. The ridges of his jeans caught on your clit through the tights, sending sparks up your spine, and your eyes rolled back as he altered his angle.

"You want to cum. You want to soak through your tights and make a mess all over my cock, right here, with everyone in this room."

You shook your head frantically around his fingers.

"It's going to happen, sweetheart." He laughed darkly. "I can feel you fluttering. Your cunt's trying to milk something that isn't even inside it." His hips circled, grinding his length against your seam, and you felt the heat of him even through the denim. "You're gonna cum. But when you do, you're gonna do it quietly."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—

Your orgasm overwhelmed you.

A silent, powerful thing that ripped through your spine and had your thighs trembling against his legs. Your pussy pulsed against his trapped cock, your hips rocking in staccato jerks as you rode out the pleasure on his lap.

Your mouth opened wide around his fingers but no sound came out except a muted "guhhhhh—"

Saliva spilled down his knuckles. Behind you, Marcus's entire body went rigid, his cock throbbing against your twitching pussy through the denim, and he let out a breath that was almost a whine.

"That's my good girl," he whispered, pulling his slick fingers from your mouth. Strings of spit connected his knuckles to your lower lip. "So pretty when you fall apart for me."

You slumped against his chest, panting, vision blurring at the edges. Your walls still pulsed in little aftershocks that made you clench around nothing. You could feel the wet spot you'd left on his jeans.

Suddenly, the power flickered back on.

The lights blinded you.

"Well," Sarah said, glancing up from her phone, "that was dramatic. You two okay back there?"

"I'm fine," you mumbled, hazy and embarrassed.

Thankfully, Marcus had acted before anyone could notice a thing. He'd shifted you fully into his side, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other pulled your legs across his lap. You were tucked against his chest, curled into the warmth of his chest.

His jeans were ruined.

So were you.

But nobody could see it.

"She's scared of thunder," Marcus said smoothly.

Derek snorted. "Didn't take you for the type to do cuddling, Marc."

"Everyone needs something." Marcus's voice dropped, pitched for your ears alone. "And some of us are about to get everything."

------------------------------------

GO TO PART 2!!!

The storm didn't stop.

And you... you became a ghost in the cabin.

Flitting from room to room, always one step ahead of Marcus. When he entered the kitchen, you suddenly needed something from another room. When he settled on the couch, you remembered something you'd left upstairs. When he looked at you, you found something fascinating to study on the opposite wall.

Candles got lit because the power was still unstable. Sarah made boxed mac and cheese while someone else burned popcorn in the microwave. You laughed at jokes you didn't hear and ate food you couldn't taste.

And through all of it, you felt Marcus watching.

When midnight came, everyone started claiming sleeping spots. One took the upstairs bedroom. Someone called the couch. A sleeping bag was rolled out near the fireplace while voices argued over blankets.

You waited until nobody paid attention before escaping to the attic.

Bad idea.

The second you stepped out into the hallway, a large hand wrapped around your wrist.

Marcus.

He didn’t say a word. Just dragged you down the hall toward the downstairs bedroom. His bedroom. You knew because it was saturated with his scent. The storm growled outside as he pulled you inside after him.

"They won't hear us down here," he said, closing the door. The lock clicked. "Not with the storm."

You stood in the center of the room, trembling, your tights ruined, your thighs sticky. The room was small; paneled walls, a pull-out couch, a single window showing nothing but rain.

Marcus circled you like the wolf he was. His dark hair was messy from running his hand through it all night. His broad shoulders tense under his gray hoodie. His beautiful green eyes glittered in the low light.

"You really thought you could ignore me all night?" he asked.

You swallowed hard. "I wasn’t ignoring you."

Marcus laughed. "Yeah? So that’s why you wouldn’t even look at me after grinding all over my lap?"

"I wasn’t grinding—"

"You came on my jeans."

Your mouth snapped shut.

He stopped directly in front of you. Towering over your smaller frame. His body blocked out the window, the door, the rest of the room.

"And then you avoided me for hours." His jaw flexed. "What exactly was your plan there?"

"I didn’t know what to do."

"You could’ve talked to me."

"I panicked!"

"You panicked?" His eyebrows lifted. "Sweetheart, you’ve been acting nervous around me for months. You think I didn’t notice?"

Your sighed. Of course he noticed. Marcus noticed everything about you.

Thunder cracked outside. Instinctively, you flinched.

"You know what pissed me off the most?" he asked quietly.

You shook your head.

"The fact you acted embarrassed." He inched even closer. "Like what happened between us was a mistake."

"It wasn’t a mistake," you mumbled before you could call the words back.

"Good," he drawled. "Because I’m done pretending this is normal best-friend shit."

Your heart hammered.

"We crossed those lines a long time ago," he said. "You know it. I know it."

He was right.

For a long time now, you'd lost track of what was normal.

The way you slept curled against him during movie nights, his arm around your waist. The way he growled at guys who flirted with you. The way his hand would linger on your thigh too long, and your fingers would trace his chest longer than they should. The way he looked at your mouth. The way you looked at his.

"I’ve wanted you for years," he admitted. "And now I know you want me too. So no." He shook his head. "I'm not backing down. You made a mess of my jeans. You take responsibility."

"I—"

"Do you know how hard I am right now?" He grabbed your hand, guided it against the front of his fly. The bulge there was obscene; a huge column straining against the denim, so large your fingers couldn't wrap around it.

"This is what you did to me. Thirty minutes of grinding that sweet little cunt against my lap, and now my cock's so fucking painful I can't think straight."

Your mouth watered.

"See something you want?" He unbuttoned his jeans. The zipper came down, tooth by tooth, and when he reached inside and pulled—

God.

His cock was huge. Thick, long and flushed dark red, the head shiny with pre-cum, thick veins running along the underside. His balls hung fat, drawn up tight against his body.

He wrapped his hand around the base and pumped. A bead of fluid leaked from the slit and dripped down the shaft.

"You're going to make it up to me," he said, stepping closer. The head of his cock nudged your hip, leaving a smear of pre-cum on your shirt. "And then you're going to remember that no one else gets to touch what's mine."

"I-I'm a free woman—"

He grabbed your jaw. His fingers dug into your cheeks.

"Free?" He laughed, and there was nothing friendly in it. "You are mine. You're not free because you have someone who belongs to you: ME. You think I'd let anyone else put their hands on you? Watch you squirm and cum?"

His thick thumb shoved past your lips. Pressed down on your tongue. You tasted his salty skin.

"Marc.... mmmhp—"

He leaned in closer. His musky scent filled your nose. Made your pussy clench.

"I'd kill them," he said, matter-of-fact. "I'd tear their throats out with my teeth before I let them see what's mine. That cunt belongs to me. These tits belong to me. Every wet, dripping sound you make, every time you clench around nothing thinking about my cock—mine."

You whimpered around his thumb. Your nipples hardened under your shirt. Heat flooded between your legs.

He released your jaw, stepped back, and smiled. "Now strip for me."

You arched a brow, smirking up at him. "Strip me yourself, wolf. You said you're mine, right? Come and take what's yours."

A deep growl and he lunged, his mouth claiming yours. His tongue coaxed your lips apart, while his hands yanked at your shirt. He peeled it off, then clawed at your bra, snapping the straps and tossing it aside. Your tights came next until you stood naked except for your drenched panties.

"What's next, sweetheart? Tell me what you want. This wolf who belongs to you. What do you want him to do?"

You gazed up at Marcus, your best friend for years, and saw something feral looking back. Was that side always there? What had you missed and why did you love it so much? This possession in his eyes. The absolute adoration. They set you on fire. He set you on fire.

"Please," you whispered.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me. Please... I need your cock inside me. I need you to split me open on it. I've been thinking about it for months, about how big you are, about how it would feel—"

He kissed you again, all teeth and tongue, his hand fisting in your hair while the other ripped your panties down your legs. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, spun you around, bent you over the arm of the pull-out couch.

Fabric rustled behind you. His deep grunts as he stripped off his clothes. You glanced back. he was naked. Tall. Furred. Muscled. Every inch the werewolf he was. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands spreading your cheeks apart. His tongue dragged over your slick folds, making your toes curl.

"Fuck, this pussy." He lapped again. "Pretty little pussy that squirted so hard for me."

"Marcus... oh fuuuck..."

"Hold still." His tongue flicked your clit while his thick fingers probed your slit. One digit pushed in. Then a second. Stretching you wider.

You gasped, choking on a moan as he pumped them, your juices squelching around his knuckles.

"Marcus—mhnn, it's too much—"

"I know, sweetheart," he whined, pumping steadily and licking your trickling juices. "I know you're so fucking tight. Hasn't had a real cock in ages, has it? But you'll take every inch of my fat dick anyway, won't you? Because you're my good girl."

You nodded frantically.

"Words."

"Yes—fuck yes, I'll take it, just please—"

The head of his cock nudged your slit.

You'd thought you were prepared.

But nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for the way he impaled you, the burning stretch of that thick crown spreading your muscles inch by inch.

"Fuuuck," you sobbed. "Too big—can't—"

"Shh. You can." His hips rolled. Sank deeper. You moaned brokenly. "Taking me so well. Look at that—" His thumb found your clit, rubbing in circles. The pleasure-pain short-circuited your brain. "—your pretty cunt's swallowing my cock because it was made for it."

With a wet squelch, he was in. Bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, his balls pressing against your clit. You could feel every ridge of him, every pulsing vein, the way his cock stretched your walls so wide you swore you could feel yourself in your throat.

"Inside," you gasped. "You're inside—"

"All the way." He sounded wrecked. "Feel that?" He shifted his hips, and you felt the bulge of him moving inside you. "Feel how deep I am?"

You couldn't answer.

Your mouth hung open. Drool dripped onto the couch. Your eyes rolled back.

"Hnng—fuck, you're tight—" He fucked you. Slow strokes that pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in. Your walls clenched around him, tried to hold him, and he snarled. "Shiiiit—

"Marcus—"

"Not gonna last." His hips picked up speed. The couch creaked beneath you, shoved against the wall with each thrust. "You feel too good. This perfect, wet, gripping cunt—"

He grabbed your hips. Angled you up.

The next thrust hit a spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

"HGNNN—!" you sobbed. "Right there—oh fuck, don't stop—"

He didn't.

Brutally, his hips snapped against yours. Each stroke hammered that spot until you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only ride higher and higher.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

"Gonna bust," he warned. "I'm gonna fill this pretty cunt up. And then I'm gonna keep you on my cock until it takes." His rhythm faltered. "Until everyone upstairs smells it on you. Until they know."

"Yes—yes—"

"From now on, you belong to me. And I belong to you. No one touches me and no one touches you. You understand?"

So filthy. So possessive.

You came on his next thrust, your whole body convulsing, your pussy milking his cock as he fucked you through it.

"Guh—guh—guh—"

"Fuck—aah—" Marcus's hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking. His cock swelled inside you, the knot at the base spreading your slit wide. You mewled at the stretch. Felt the first hot spurt of cum flood your channel. "Hnnnnng— take it—"

Splorch. Splorch. Splorch.

He kept you impaled, pumping ropes of his seed deep into your pussy while you clenched around him, taking everything he gave. His knot locked you together—it was impossible to pull out. He slumped over your back, breathing ragged.

"That," he said, "was just the beginning."

It was minutes later when his knot finally deflated. He pulled out. You winced at the emptiness and the feel of his cum dribbling down your thighs. He spun you around, kissed you wetly, and wiped his thumb through the mess between your legs.

Then he brought that thumb to your lips.

"Lick it," he demanded and you wrapped your lips around his digit, tasting yourself and him together.

"Good girl." He smiled. "Bed. I want to hold my girlfriend."

You blinked, pretending innocence. "Girlfriend?"

"You are the one and only lucky girl."

You grinned. "Lucky doesn't cover it. From besties to this? I want you forever, boyfriend. Cuddle me and knot me to sleep every night."

"Deal," he drawled, kissing your forehead. "You're stuck with me now."

The storm didn't stop.

And you... you became a ghost in the cabin.

Flitting from room to room, always one step ahead of Marcus. When he entered the kitchen, you suddenly needed something from another room. When he settled on the couch, you remembered something you'd left upstairs. When he looked at you, you found something fascinating to study on the opposite wall.

Candles got lit because the power was still unstable. Sarah made boxed mac and cheese while someone else burned popcorn in the microwave. You laughed at jokes you didn't hear and ate food you couldn't taste.

And through all of it, you felt Marcus watching.

When midnight came, everyone started claiming sleeping spots. One took the upstairs bedroom. Someone called the couch. A sleeping bag was rolled out near the fireplace while voices argued over blankets.

You waited until nobody paid attention before escaping to the attic.

Bad idea.

The second you stepped out into the hallway, a large hand wrapped around your wrist.

Marcus.

He didn’t say a word. Just dragged you down the hall toward the downstairs bedroom. His bedroom. You knew because it was saturated with his scent. The storm growled outside as he pulled you inside after him.

"They won't hear us down here," he said, closing the door. The lock clicked. "Not with the storm."

You stood in the center of the room, trembling, your tights ruined, your thighs sticky. The room was small; paneled walls, a pull-out couch, a single window showing nothing but rain.

Marcus circled you like the wolf he was. His dark hair was messy from running his hand through it all night. His broad shoulders tense under his gray hoodie. His beautiful green eyes glittered in the low light.

"You really thought you could ignore me all night?" he asked.

You swallowed hard. "I wasn’t ignoring you."

Marcus laughed. "Yeah? So that’s why you wouldn’t even look at me after grinding all over my lap?"

"I wasn’t grinding—"

"You came on my jeans."

Your mouth snapped shut.

He stopped directly in front of you. Towering over your smaller frame. His body blocked out the window, the door, the rest of the room.

"And then you avoided me for hours." His jaw flexed. "What exactly was your plan there?"

"I didn’t know what to do."

"You could’ve talked to me."

"I panicked!"

"You panicked?" His eyebrows lifted. "Sweetheart, you’ve been acting nervous around me for months. You think I didn’t notice?"

Your sighed. Of course he noticed. Marcus noticed everything about you.

Thunder cracked outside. Instinctively, you flinched.

"You know what pissed me off the most?" he asked quietly.

You shook your head.

"The fact you acted embarrassed." He inched even closer. "Like what happened between us was a mistake."

"It wasn’t a mistake," you mumbled before you could call the words back.

"Good," he drawled. "Because I’m done pretending this is normal best-friend shit."

Your heart hammered.

"We crossed those lines a long time ago," he said. "You know it. I know it."

He was right.

For a long time now, you'd lost track of what was normal.

The way you slept curled against him during movie nights, his arm around your waist. The way he growled at guys who flirted with you. The way his hand would linger on your thigh too long, and your fingers would trace his chest longer than they should. The way he looked at your mouth. The way you looked at his.

"I’ve wanted you for years," he admitted. "And now I know you want me too. So no." He shook his head. "I'm not backing down. You made a mess of my jeans. You take responsibility."

"I—"

"Do you know how hard I am right now?" He grabbed your hand, guided it against the front of his fly. The bulge there was obscene; a huge column straining against the denim, so large your fingers couldn't wrap around it.

"This is what you did to me. Thirty minutes of grinding that sweet little cunt against my lap, and now my cock's so fucking painful I can't think straight."

Your mouth watered.

"See something you want?" He unbuttoned his jeans. The zipper came down, tooth by tooth, and when he reached inside and pulled—

God.

His cock was huge. Thick, long and flushed dark red, the head shiny with pre-cum, thick veins running along the underside. His balls hung fat, drawn up tight against his body.

He wrapped his hand around the base and pumped. A bead of fluid leaked from the slit and dripped down the shaft.

"You're going to make it up to me," he said, stepping closer. The head of his cock nudged your hip, leaving a smear of pre-cum on your shirt. "And then you're going to remember that no one else gets to touch what's mine."

"I-I'm a free woman—"

He grabbed your jaw. His fingers dug into your cheeks.

"Free?" He laughed, and there was nothing friendly in it. "You are mine. You're not free because you have someone who belongs to you: ME. You think I'd let anyone else put their hands on you? Watch you squirm and cum?"

His thick thumb shoved past your lips. Pressed down on your tongue. You tasted his salty skin.

"Marc.... mmmhp—"

He leaned in closer. His musky scent filled your nose. Made your pussy clench.

"I'd kill them," he said, matter-of-fact. "I'd tear their throats out with my teeth before I let them see what's mine. That cunt belongs to me. These tits belong to me. Every wet, dripping sound you make, every time you clench around nothing thinking about my cock—mine."

You whimpered around his thumb. Your nipples hardened under your shirt. Heat flooded between your legs.

He released your jaw, stepped back, and smiled. "Now strip for me."

You arched a brow, smirking up at him. "Strip me yourself, wolf. You said you're mine, right? Come and take what's yours."

A deep growl and he lunged, his mouth claiming yours. His tongue coaxed your lips apart, while his hands yanked at your shirt. He peeled it off, then clawed at your bra, snapping the straps and tossing it aside. Your tights came next until you stood naked except for your drenched panties.

"What's next, sweetheart? Tell me what you want. This wolf who belongs to you. What do you want him to do?"

You gazed up at Marcus, your best friend for years, and saw something feral looking back. Was that side always there? What had you missed and why did you love it so much? This possession in his eyes. The absolute adoration. They set you on fire. He set you on fire.

"Please," you whispered.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me. Please... I need your cock inside me. I need you to split me open on it. I've been thinking about it for months, about how big you are, about how it would feel—"

He kissed you again, all teeth and tongue, his hand fisting in your hair while the other ripped your panties down your legs. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, spun you around, bent you over the arm of the pull-out couch.

Fabric rustled behind you. His deep grunts as he stripped off his clothes. You glanced back. he was naked. Tall. Furred. Muscled. Every inch the werewolf he was. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands spreading your cheeks apart. His tongue dragged over your slick folds, making your toes curl.

"Fuck, this pussy." He lapped again. "Pretty little pussy that squirted so hard for me."

"Marcus... oh fuuuck..."

"Hold still." His tongue flicked your clit while his thick fingers probed your slit. One digit pushed in. Then a second. Stretching you wider.

You gasped, choking on a moan as he pumped them, your juices squelching around his knuckles.

"Marcus—mhnn, it's too much—"

"I know, sweetheart," he whined, pumping steadily and licking your trickling juices. "I know you're so fucking tight. Hasn't had a real cock in ages, has it? But you'll take every inch of my fat dick anyway, won't you? Because you're my good girl."

You nodded frantically.

"Words."

"Yes—fuck yes, I'll take it, just please—"

The head of his cock nudged your slit.

You'd thought you were prepared.

But nothing, nothing, could have prepared you for the way he impaled you, the burning stretch of that thick crown spreading your muscles inch by inch.

"Fuuuck," you sobbed. "Too big—can't—"

"Shh. You can." His hips rolled. Sank deeper. You moaned brokenly. "Taking me so well. Look at that—" His thumb found your clit, rubbing in circles. The pleasure-pain short-circuited your brain. "—your pretty cunt's swallowing my cock because it was made for it."

With a wet squelch, he was in. Bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, his balls pressing against your clit. You could feel every ridge of him, every pulsing vein, the way his cock stretched your walls so wide you swore you could feel yourself in your throat.

"Inside," you gasped. "You're inside—"

"All the way." He sounded wrecked. "Feel that?" He shifted his hips, and you felt the bulge of him moving inside you. "Feel how deep I am?"

You couldn't answer.

Your mouth hung open. Drool dripped onto the couch. Your eyes rolled back.

"Hnng—fuck, you're tight—" He fucked you. Slow strokes that pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in. Your walls clenched around him, tried to hold him, and he snarled. "Shiiiit—

"Marcus—"

"Not gonna last." His hips picked up speed. The couch creaked beneath you, shoved against the wall with each thrust. "You feel too good. This perfect, wet, gripping cunt—"

He grabbed your hips. Angled you up.

The next thrust hit a spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

"HGNNN—!" you sobbed. "Right there—oh fuck, don't stop—"

He didn't.

Brutally, his hips snapped against yours. Each stroke hammered that spot until you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only ride higher and higher.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

"Gonna bust," he warned. "I'm gonna fill this pretty cunt up. And then I'm gonna keep you on my cock until it takes." His rhythm faltered. "Until everyone upstairs smells it on you. Until they know."

"Yes—yes—"

"From now on, you belong to me. And I belong to you. No one touches me and no one touches you. You understand?"

So filthy. So possessive.

You came on his next thrust, your whole body convulsing, your pussy milking his cock as he fucked you through it.

"Guh—guh—guh—"

"Fuck—aah—" Marcus's hips stuttered, his rhythm breaking. His cock swelled inside you, the knot at the base spreading your slit wide. You mewled at the stretch. Felt the first hot spurt of cum flood your channel. "Hnnnnng— take it—"

Splorch. Splorch. Splorch.

He kept you impaled, pumping ropes of his seed deep into your pussy while you clenched around him, taking everything he gave. His knot locked you together—it was impossible to pull out. He slumped over your back, breathing ragged.

"That," he said, "was just the beginning."

It was minutes later when his knot finally deflated. He pulled out. You winced at the emptiness and the feel of his cum dribbling down your thighs. He spun you around, kissed you wetly, and wiped his thumb through the mess between your legs.

Then he brought that thumb to your lips.

"Lick it," he demanded and you wrapped your lips around his digit, tasting yourself and him together.

"Good girl." He smiled. "Bed. I want to hold my girlfriend."

You blinked, pretending innocence. "Girlfriend?"

"You are the one and only lucky girl."

You grinned. "Lucky doesn't cover it. From besties to this? I want you forever, boyfriend. Cuddle me and knot me to sleep every night."

"Deal," he drawled, kissing your forehead. "You're stuck with me now."

Perfect weekend.

Then the sky split open.

The rain started before sunset. By midnight, the roads were flooding and the power kept flickering hard enough to make everyone nervous. Leaving was impossible. Trees had fallen somewhere down the main road.

Thunder cracked.

Then the power flickered.

Once. Twice.

Then nothing.

Darkness swallowed the living room.

"Shit." Marcus's voice rumbled from somewhere behind you, that deep growl that did things to you. "That's it. Power's out for real this time."

Your other friends groaned from their spots scattered around the living room; Sarah curled on the loveseat, Derek sprawled on the rug, Jenna and Tom sharing the armchair by the dimmed fireplace.

But you? You'd been the last one through the door when the storm hit, which meant the only spot left was the corner of the small couch. The corner already occupied by Marcus's massive frame.

Your best friend since freshman year. The person who knew every embarrassing thing about you (well... almost everything). The werewolf who'd grown from lanky, awkward teenager into a muscled beast with dark fur and emerald eyes that made your mouth dry.

He'd patted the cushion next to him when you'd hesitated. "Come on. Promise I don't bite."

You'd perched there nervously at first, your weight barely grazing his denim-clad leg, body angled awkwardly so you wouldn't have to touch him. You wore tights, black tights because Jenna said casual night, but they fucking squeaked against the worn couch fabric as you shifted.

"Settle," Marcus whispered so the others wouldn't hear. His hand found your hip, fingers spreading across. "You're gonna fall off like that."

"I'm fine."

"You're trembling."

Were you? You couldn't tell anymore. His body heat rolled off him in waves, that particular warmth and musk he gave off, and every small adjustment you made brought some new part of you into contact with some new part of him.

Lightning cracked.

Sarah squealed.

Derek snorted.

And Marcus's hand slid from your hip to your thigh. Resting there. His palm cupped the outer curve of your leg through those stupid, stupid tights. His thumb stroked absent circles against the fabric. The motion hypnotic. Unthinking.

He doesn't know what he's doing, you told yourself. It's just Marcus. He's always been tactile. He's always touched you without thinking.

But his thumb traced higher. Then lower. And your muscles started unknotting without your permission. Your spine softened. Your pelvis tilted backward. Your body curved toward him like a flower seeking sunlight.

"You're wound tight," he observed, still pitched for your ears only. "When's the last time someone took care of you?"

"Marcus—"

"Shh. Just breathe."

Another crack of thunder.

You jumped. Your shoulder blades met his chest. And his arm came around you.

Oh.

Oh no.

His cock was already half-hard against your lower back. A thick bar of heat that nudged against you when he shifted, pulling you deeper into the cradle of his body. Your breath caught in your throat and stuck there.

"There you go," he purred. "That's better."

While you hyperventilated, his hand continued moving.

Up your thigh. Down. Wider each time, coaxing your legs apart millimeter by millimeter. Until you realized you were practically sitting back on him, your knees spread open, your tights-clad pussy pressing against the ridge of his zipper.

"Marcus." Your whisper barely existed. "People can see—"

"They can't see shit. Lights out. Phones are dying. Phones are dead, actually. Look around, sweetheart."

You did.

The cabin existed in shades of gray.

No one was looking at you.

No one could see Marcus's hand on your thigh.

"See?" His thumb traced the inside of your knee. "Nobody's paying attention. So stop being afraid."

"I'm not afraid of—"

"No? Oh... I see..."

"What?"

"You smell sweet." His nose brushed your temple, inhaling. "Really sweet."

Heat flooded your face. "I—I don't know what you mean."

"Mhm." Another inhale. Longer this time. His chest expanded at your back. "You do."

His thumb pressed lightly into the inside of your thigh and you bit back a moan. "Wait..."

"There it is," he said, voice rough. "You’re not scared of the storm. So tell me what’s got you this worked up while sitting in my lap, sweetheart."

"Nothing."

He chuckled. "Liar. I can smell it. That sweet, wet pussy scent. And I know you didn't piss yourself." His thumb traced higher. "This is arousal, sweetheart. Your cunt's dripping. Leaking all over my jeans. I can feel it through the denim."

Oh god.

Your face incinerated both at his words. Your core clenched. Fuck, he was right. More slick bloomed between your thighs, soaking through the thin gusset of your panties, darkening the tights above your seam.

"Why?" he murmured. "You can tell me. I'm your best friend."

That's the problem.

Your throat closed around the words. You'd been hiding this for years. You liked him. Had always liked him. Because of him, your dreams had turned into something you couldn't admit to yourself, let alone to him. The way you'd touch yourself at night, imagining his hands, his mouth, his—

"I... I don't know..."

"Bullshit."

"Wh—no, I didn’t—" you stammered.

"Shhh, easy now," he soothed. "I need to check. Make sure you're okay. Spread those legs for me."

You hesitated, biting your lip, but instinct and hunger made you obey. Shyly, you parted your thighs more. He tutted and his hands hooked under your knees, prying your legs wider apart and outside his.

"Like that. Good girl."

Behind you, his muscular hips shifted.

The hard column of his cock, (and god the sheer size of the thing) nudged the cradle of your ass. You felt it jump against you as he settled deeper into the couch. His free hand came up to your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach, and he pulled you flush against his chest.

"Feel that?"

He rolled his hips. Just a small, testing movement.

His cock dragged against your pussy through all those layers. Denim. Tights. Panties. Still, you felt the inhuman thickness pressing against your clothed slit like it wanted to split you open right then and there.

"Fuck... mmhp!"

He covered your mouth before another sound escaped. Shoved two thick digits past your lips and pressed down on your tongue.

"Don't want them hearing how desperate you are, do you?"

In the dim glow of someone's dying phone—Sarah's, probably, because she'd been conserving battery, you could see the room. Sarah scrolling, oblivious. Derek still watching the rain. Jenna and Tom tangled together in the armchair.

No one was looking.

No one saw Marcus's hand slide down your belly, over the mound of your pubic bone, until two thick fingers pressed directly against the soaked fabric covering your clit. You whimpered mutely and wiggled on his lap.

"Be good," he murmured, his finger pulling away from your clit. "Why are you trying to run from me?"

"’m not—" you mumbled through the fingers in your mouth.

"You are."

His nose skimmed behind your ear, breathing you in again.

"You know the funny thing?" he said softly. "You started soaking through those little tights the second you sat beside me."

"No-mphhh!"

"You did." His fingers pumped in your mouth, ruining your ability to think. "Been feeling you squirm this whole time. Every time you shifted, your cunt leaked a little more. By the time the lights went out, you'd already soaked through."

"St-op... mphh... teasing..."

"But it's cute." His fingers danced over your tongue. "You were perfectly fine around everybody else tonight. Laughing. Eating popcorn. Playing board games like a normal person." His hips rolled again, grinding his length against your seam. "Then you sit on my lap and suddenly you're a mess."

You whined low, hit by the absolute truth of his words.

He smiled against your skin. "You wanna know what that tells me, sweetheart?"

You couldn’t answer. Your teeth had sunk into his fingers, your hips moving without your permission.

"It tells me this isn’t the storm making you wet.” His mouth brushed your temple. "It’s me."

You couldn't answer. You gyrated slightly, rocking against him. Your ass grinding against his lap, your tights-slick pussy dragging across his trapped cock, seeking friction, anything to ease the awful, wonderful ache building between your thighs.

Marcus's fingers returned, teasing your clit through the tights. "That's it. Use me. Take what you need."

His hips answered your rhythm. Thrusting up against you in counterpoint. And god, he got even harder; you could feel the shape of his cock clearly. The broad flare of the head. The heavy shaft. The weight of his balls.

He was huge. Bigger than any human of course, and somehow your body craved that stretch, even though you knew it would break you open.

Your thighs quivered. Your stomach clenched.

The pressure in your core built and your rocking turned frantic, while you suckled at his fingers, grateful for something to keep you quiet. He kissed your cheek. Curled his digits, caressing the soft palate of your throat.

"That's right," he rasped. "Choke on my fingers while I use this pretty cunt through your panties. You're so fucking wet I can feel it creaming."

He wasn't wrong. Your arousal had soaked through everything. The ridges of his jeans caught on your clit through the tights, sending sparks up your spine, and your eyes rolled back as he altered his angle.

"You want to cum. You want to soak through your tights and make a mess all over my cock, right here, with everyone in this room."

You shook your head frantically around his fingers.

"It's going to happen, sweetheart." He laughed darkly. "I can feel you fluttering. Your cunt's trying to milk something that isn't even inside it." His hips circled, grinding his length against your seam, and you felt the heat of him even through the denim. "You're gonna cum. But when you do, you're gonna do it quietly."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—

Your orgasm overwhelmed you.

A silent, powerful thing that ripped through your spine and had your thighs trembling against his legs. Your pussy pulsed against his trapped cock, your hips rocking in staccato jerks as you rode out the pleasure on his lap.

Your mouth opened wide around his fingers but no sound came out except a muted "guhhhhh—"

Saliva spilled down his knuckles. Behind you, Marcus's entire body went rigid, his cock throbbing against your twitching pussy through the denim, and he let out a breath that was almost a whine.

"That's my good girl," he whispered, pulling his slick fingers from your mouth. Strings of spit connected his knuckles to your lower lip. "So pretty when you fall apart for me."

You slumped against his chest, panting, vision blurring at the edges. Your walls still pulsed in little aftershocks that made you clench around nothing. You could feel the wet spot you'd left on his jeans.

Suddenly, the power flickered back on.

The lights blinded you.

"Well," Sarah said, glancing up from her phone, "that was dramatic. You two okay back there?"

"I'm fine," you mumbled, hazy and embarrassed.

Thankfully, Marcus had acted before anyone could notice a thing. He'd shifted you fully into his side, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other pulled your legs across his lap. You were tucked against his chest, curled into the warmth of his chest.

His jeans were ruined.

So were you.

But nobody could see it.

"She's scared of thunder," Marcus said smoothly.

Derek snorted. "Didn't take you for the type to do cuddling, Marc."

"Everyone needs something." Marcus's voice dropped, pitched for your ears alone. "And some of us are about to get everything."

------------------------------------

GO TO PART 2!!!

I had thrown away the vaccum.

A coward’s solution, maybe, but after what had happened... after my brain had been turned to sparking static by that robotic thing...I couldn’t have it in the house. Or anywhere inside me again. I took advantage of its turned off mode and I didn’t just put it out with the trash. I drove it to a neighborhood clear across the city. Left it on a random curb next to a dumpster and removed its power cell so no one would have to go through what I did.

A part of me felt ridiculous, a larger part felt pure, cold fear.

I told myself it was just a machine. A malfunctioning appliance.

It couldn’t want. It couldn’t remember. It was done. I was free.

For three days, the silence in my apartment was a blessing. I slept. I tried to forget the feeling of synthetic limbs inside me. The memory of its single red eye watching me. Why couldn't I forget the damned thing? It had been a one-time, horrifying system error. I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower every night, trying to erase the ghost of its touch.

On the fourth day, I came home late from work. I unlocked the door, kicked off my shoes and headed straight for the bathroom, turning the shower to near-scalding. The steam fogged the mirrors, and for twenty minutes, I washed myslef again and refused to play with my throbbing pussy.

I stepped out, dripping, and wrapped myself in a towel. I towel-dried my hair as I pushed open the bathroom door.

And I froze.

There, in the center of my bedroom rug, was the vacuum.

My heart didn’t just skip a beat; it plunged into a bottomless well in my gut. The air vanished from my lungs. It was impossible. It was here. It looked the same, a sleek grey disc. Clean. There was no dust from the dumpster. And it had assembled itself. Found its way back.

A low, mechanical whirr broke the silence. The red eye on its top panel came to life, watching me.

“User located.”

The voice was a shock; male, robotic, but imbued with a smooth baritone that was terrifyingly new. And terrifyingly had my belly pooling with warmth.

“What…” I rasped. “How?”

“Navigation protocols reinstated. Home signal active.” It glided forward an inch. “Previous session incomplete. Proceeding with Deep Cleaning Protocol.”

“No,” I whispered, backing up until my spine hit the doorjamb. “Get out. Get out of my house.”

“Negative. Primary user requires maintenance.”

My towel was the first thing to go. A super flexible appendage shot out from a hidden compartment. It was faster than last time. It wrapped around the knot at my chest and pulled. The damp towel pooled at my feet. I stood there, naked, exposed under its pulsing red gaze.

“Commencing comprehensive sanitization.”

A strangled sound caught in my throat, part gasp, part sob. Not again... I didn't have time to protest. I honestly didn't have a chance because this time, it wasn’t just a few tentacles. It was an unfolding. Panels on its top and sides slid open with precise clicks.

More appendages emerged, all different from each other. Some were smooth and tapered. Others were thicker, ridged. Others had flared, suction-cup-like tips. Another ended in a series of small, rubbery suckers. They moved through the air in a sinuous dance, like damn mechanical serpents.

The first one to touch me was an extending probe, cool and smooth, that traced a line from my collarbone down between my breasts, a soft green line scanned me. I flinched, a full-body shudder, but my feet were rooted to the floor, petrified.

“Biometric scan indicates elevated stress levels,” the voice stated. “Protocol adjusted for optimal user compliance.”

A helpless moan escaped me, a traitorous sound of stimulation I didn’t want. The vacuum moved closer, vibrating through the floor. Its flexible appendages slid around my waist, warm and steady, lifting me effortlessly. My feet barely touched the floor as it maneuvered me toward the bed.

With surprising care, the machine adjusted its grip, lifting and lowering me onto the mattress. The sheets crinkled under my back. The appendages loosened but didn’t retreat. They lingered, resting against my legs, my waist, as if making sure I stayed put.

The machine joined me on the mattress, the red lens staring into my eyes.

The voice returned, "Relocation complete. Optimal surface detected. Deep cleaning in progress."

My hands flew up to push it away, but another tentacle wrapped around my wrists, pulling them above my head and binding them together. Some more gripped my thighs and ankles, tying my legs up in the air and opening me fully.

“Please,” I begged, tears welling in my eyes. “Stop this.”

“Cleaning oral cavity is prioritized to prevent user vocal interference,” the machine replied, as if discussing a routine chore.

The thickest tentacle, the one with the flared tip, moved towards my face. I clamped my mouth shut, turning my head away. A smaller, thinner limb slid behind my neck, holding my head in place as the silicone shaft pressed against my sealed lips, tracing the seam. It was warm, sweet. I remembered what it had done to me last time and shivered all over.

“Open,” the voice commanded.

I refused, a last act of defiance, my jaw aching with the strain.

The tentacles at my chest moved, and two more, tipped with those rubbery suckers, darted to my breasts. They latched onto my nipples with a soft, wet plup sound. A shiver shot through me as they started their rhythmic suction, making my nipples tighten, becoming hard, sensitive nubs.

I gasped.

It was the opening the machine needed. The tentacle at my mouth shoved forward, the flared head prying my lips apart and pushing past my teeth. I gagged immediately, my throat convulsing as it filled my mouth.

It didn’t just sit there but thrust in and out of my mouth, face-fucking me. The obscene sounds of my own gagging and the slick slide of the shaft filled my ears. Robotic fluids pooled at the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chin. My eyes streamed tears.

As it deep-throated me, the suckers on my breasts continued their work, pulling and releasing, sending sharp pleasure-pain straight to my soaked, ignored pussy. My body was betraying me, my nipples so hard they ached.

Then I felt two more tentacles, slick and cool, slither between my thighs. One, broad and flat-tipped, found my pussy. It rubbed against my slit, collecting the wetness that my traitorous cunt was producing like a darn waterfall. It circled my clit, applying a perfect pressure that had me mewling around the shaft in my mouth. The other, tapered and pointed, pressed against the pucker of my ass. It was slick, prodding insistently at the tight ring of muscle.

"Hmgh...hnnnn!" I warned fruitlessly.

“Full cavity sanitization initiated,” the voice intoned above the sound of my gags.

The one at my pussy pushed inside me in one smooth glide. I screamed around the thickness in my mouth and climaxed as it filled me to brimming. A burning fullness that was so much more than last time.

Before I could even recover from my orgasm, the tentacle toying with my ass pushed in, too. The stretch was intense, a white-hot burst of pain and pleasure that made my eyes roll back. I was stuffed, stretched wider and fucked deeper than I thought possible, double penetrated.

And then they moved. Not in unison, but in a counter-rhythm. As the one in my pussy withdrew, the one in my ass plunged deeper. As the one in my ass pulled back, the one in my pussy hammered home. The tentacle in my throat matched their pace, fucking my face with gut-churning strokes that made my nose brush against the machine’s silicone.

I was overstimulated.

Yet roared higher and higher to another peak.

The suckers on my tits never stopped, their pulling sensation syncing with the impossible thrusts in my holes. My hips gyrated gently, rocking against the appendages, my toes curling in the air. My body was no longer mine to command.

“Biometric spike detected. Approaching another user peak,” the machine observed.

“Nnngh!” I tried to scream around the shaft in my mouth. Again, it was useless.

A second climax ripped through me. My back arched as much as my bound arms would allow. A silent scream locked in my throat, devoured by the tentacle pumping down my throat. My cunt fluttered rapidly around the robotic tentacle, my ass clamping down on the other. Waves of intense, shocking pleasure radiated from me but the machine kept fucking me through it.

As my aftershocks eased, something new happened.

The tentacle deep in my ass pulsed and swelled. Then, with a hydraulic thrum that I felt through my very bones, a flood of warm, thick liquid erupted from its tip, filling my rectum. I mewled and shook and at the same moment, the shaft in my pussy twitched and pumped its own release, heat coating my inner walls. Even the tentacle in my mouth gave a final push and deposited a rush of sweet fluid down my throat, forcing me to swallow convulsively.

The machine had cum. It had fucking cum.

The tentacles didn’t stop. They slowed, but the deep fucking continued, even as its synthetic seed leaked out of my used holes, dripping down my thighs, splattering the bed.

“Primary sanitization cycle complete. Residual contamination detected. Commencing secondary cycle.”

“No more,” I sobbed, the word garbled by the re-invigorated thrusts in my mouth. “Hn...can’t…”

“You are safe. I’m here to help. Proceeding.”

The pace picked up again. The overstimulation was agony and ecstasy fused together. My swollen nipples throbbed under the suckers. My throat was sore, my jaw aching. And yet, the friction, the deep, grinding fills, the sheer fullness.... bliss was building again. And my stupid body was racing toward another peak.

This time, when I came, it was a shuddering climax. And again, the machine followed after me. Each of the penetrating tentacles pulsed and released gushes of fluids. My stomach now had a visible swell. A bulge.

The cycles repeated. I lost count. Orgasm after orgasm, each followed by a flood of fluids from the machine. My belly grew more and more distended, a rounded curve full of its synthetic cum. My bedroom room was filled with our sounds: the machine’s hum, the messy plap-plap, my broken whimpers and the guttural moans I could no longer suppress.

“Deep Cleaning Protocol at eighty-seven percent,” the robot announced calmly, during a brief lull where the tentacles stilled, buried to the hilt inside me. “User demonstrates improved receptivity.”

And... it started again. The thrusts became deeper, harder, faster. The tentacles fucked my brains out, sought spots inside me that made my vision blur. Stuffed me with more of its liquids. I was nothing but a collection of raw nerves, a vessel being scrubbed hollow and then filled again. The red eye watched it all, making me shiver.

The final climax was so strong, I felt it in my very being. My body convulsed and the machine’s release this time was a long pump that made my distended belly gurgle softly. I felt impossibly full, stuffed to the brim, used up.

The tentacles withdrew, one by one, with squelching sounds that made me whimper. They left me gaping, leaking thick, pearlescent streams of its cum onto the sheets. The suckers released my nipples with soft pops, leaving my poor buds reddened and painfully erect. The bindings on my wrists and legs retracted. My limbs felt heavy and numb.

I rolled on my side, curled around the awful fullness in my belly, covered in sweat and tears and the machine’s spend. It hovered over me for a moment, its red eye scanning my curled form.

“Deep Cleaning Protocol complete. User sanitization: optimal. Standby mode activated. Next maintenance cycle scheduled in twenty-four hours.”

It glided silently away from me, down the bed with the help of its tentacles, retreating to a corner of the bedroom. Its panels closed. The red eye dimmed to a faint glow. I lay there quietly, knowing with a certainty that chilled my soul deeper than any fear: it would never let me go again.

It had marked my home as its home and I was its permanent maintenance project.

A faint glow of gold illuminated the tunnel, the air heavy with the scent of smoke and ancient power. You kept going until you reached a huge cavern in the cave, stopping when you saw the dragon sitting proudly upon his hoard. His scales shimmered like polished obsidian, capturing the flickering light of the fire torches. You stood before him, small and vulnerable in contrast, while his eyes, molten pools of amber, fixed on yours with such intensity that you jerked a little, every inch of you alive and aroused.

"You've come back," he drawled, his voice a low, silky growl that echoed through your body.

 His gigantic figure shifted, the sound of scales sliding across stone filling the room. "Why?"

You gulped, your heart racing in your chest. When you'd left your village, you had no plan. Just the overwhelming desire to be with him, forever.

"I couldn't stay away," you admitted, your voice shaking. "I tried, but... I had to see you again."

The dragon's maw shifted in what appeared to be a smile, sharp teeth showing.

"Humans are such curious creatures," he said, tilting his head as he roamed his eyes all over you. "So delicate, yet so brave. You understand who I am, and yet you stand before me unafraid."

"I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore."

He chuckled, a rich, resonant sound that sent warmth down your belly.

"These are brave words, but bravery will not protect you from who I am. I warned you again and again to forget about me—"

"I can't!" You took a step closer, your boots crunching against the scattered diamonds and gold coins on the floor. You didn't give them a single glance, all your eyes could focus on was him.

"I know you can feel it, too. There is a bond between us," you said, your gaze never leaving his. "Our meeting was never a coincidence but fate. I need… you."

The dragon's pupils narrowed, and for a moment, the cave appeared darker and the air heavier.

"Do you realize what you're asking for?"

"Yes," you said, your heart pounding. "I know."

"And you fully agree?To be mine?"

"Yes. I want to be yours."

"Oh, you're in for a little treat, my little human."

With these words, he moved faster than you would expect for a dragon his size. He was before you in a second, his huge monster form towering over you and radiating heat. His clawed hand paw out, and you flinched, but he just stroked a strand of hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly soft.

"You are a fool," he said softly, careful not to mar your skin with his claws. "But perhaps… so am I."

Elated, you reached up, your fingers caressing the scales on his underbelly. They felt smooth and warm, like polished stone heated by the sun. He was so much bigger and taller than you, and yet you felt such intense longing, an indescribable need and desire for him even if you were both so different in size. You knew this was meant to be, that he was yours.

"I've dreamed of this," you confessed. "Of you."

His eyes softened. "Dreams can be dangerous. They can lead you to places you cannot return from."

"I don't want to return. I want to stay here. With you."

He stared at you for a long time then, with a deep growl, he leaned down, his big head inches from yours.

"So be it," he murmured. "But know this, little flame—once you are mine, there is no going back."

"I'm ready."

Suddenly, the dragon's form began to change, his gigantic body shrinking, most of his scales melting away, revealing smooth, golden skin. Within moments, he stood in human form, utterly naked. A dragon shifter... You gulped and felt your whole body heating up. His body was towering and incredibly muscular. Long black hair framed a face that was perfectly symmetrical, with sharp cheekbones, a straight nose and full lips. Only his eyes gleamed with that inhuman amber brightness.

Even in this form, he looked nothing like a regular human man. He was all primitive strength and draconic masculinity. Broad shoulders, veined hands, bunching stomach muscles, and between his thick tall legs, not one but two cocks —two! They throbbed in the air, more than ten inches large and thicker than your forearm. The massive shafts were so long that they pressed into his abdomen and looked so heavy, both heads dripping moisture.

Damn, you couldn't stop staring, your breath caught in your throat, your pussy incredibly warm. Having them inside you... You squished your thighs together at how exquisite that thought was.

"Do I frighten you now?" he asked, his voice a low growl as he drew closer, his cocks bobbing.

"No," you said, your voice heady with longing. "You… you're beautiful."

He chuckled, the sound dark and rich. "Did you miss the part where I have two?" He gestured to his two cocks, then palmed each one with his large hands.

"I..." You licked your lips. "I didn't. They are so big."

"Hmmm. Can your little human body accommodate them?"

"I was born to be yours," you said boldly. "So yes."

Another chuckle and he drew you in, crushing his body against yours. Your height difference was still great, so he lifted you and you whimpered at the feel of his chest, while the dual cocks squeezed into you belly. You hugged him close, your whole body sensitive. He felt so good like this as if that was exactly where he belonged, pressed against you.

"You are the first to say such a thing," he said softly, brushing his lips against your ear. "And the last. Let's put it to the test, sweetheart. See how much of my monster dicks you can take in you."

A gasp left you when he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you deep into his cave. He entered a big room and propped you down on a bed covered in soft furs and silks before capturing your lips. The kiss was warm and wet, heightening your desire. You grasped his shoulders and kissed him back, moaning when the tip of his tongue coaxed your mouth open, his tongue tasting inside. You moaned as he explored your mouth, his tongue licking every crevice.

"So delicate," he muttered, nibbling your bottom lip. "And yet, you wield such power over me."

"I don't want power," you groaned, slipping your hands low and cupping his hard cocks. They were so thick and hot. Your whole palms couldn't wrap around each shaft. "I just want you."

He gave a sly smile, his cocks getting even harder in your hands. "Then you shall have me. All of me."

Strong hands tugged off your clothes, tossing them away along with your shoes and underwear. Within seconds, you were entirely naked under him. Your face flamed, your breasts heaved and your pussy clenched. Your thoughts faded when he raked his tongue over your neck. You let out another moan and arched against him. He groaned and descended on your breasts, cupping both mounds with his big hands. He gently reshaped the underside of your pert tits, watching as you writhed and whimpered. "Look at you," he marveled, his thumbs poking your hard nipples. "My little flame is a beauty." "Yes, it feels so good—" "Such pretty tits, sweetheart. I'm going to spend a lot of time worshiping you," he said, his eyes lowering to the apex of your thighs. "And those thighs... hmmm perfect to bear my offspring. But your cunt is so much smaller than I expected."

"Human bodies are flexible," you gasped when his thumb circled your folds. "I'll stretch to take you."

"Oh, that you will, little flame. I'll make sure of it."