Sometimes I post my own stuff but mostly I rebagel

He manages to duck into his office’s private bathroom and get his pants off before his water breaks. But when he examines himself in the full length mirror, he finds the first baby already making a bulging dome of his pussy, and resigns himself to pushing it out. He leans back on a chair he brought in for this purpose and watches his cunt slowly flex open with each push, shuddering at the sight. The pressure makes his meta cock stand up, making it look as huge and swollen as it ever has.

After a good half hour of watching the head bob closer and closer to its widest point before sinking back in, it finally stays, spreading his hole in a tight crown. He throws his head back and groans in pain, toes curling as he drags his fingertips delicately over his taut cunt lips. He massages his perineum and applies counter pressure as the head slowly, slowly teases him, always looking ready to pop out. Finally it bursts out, and he yelps, shuddering. He delivers in a few more pushes.

By 11, he’s sent his first baby on its way with one of the nannies he’s had on standby and is ready to jump back in to his schedule. He tosses back a dose of labor suppressant pills before he goes, and they work like a dream. The contractions ease up enough that they’re practically background noise, only the pressure of a low head occasionally reminding him that birth is imminent.

He works all the way until 4PM before the pressure starts to be too intense to think through, and he decides he should probably at least check what’s going on down there. He steps into the empty office of someone who went home early and reaches into his pants—only to find a head peeking out into his underwear! It thrills him almost as much as it annoys him; they should really have a warning on the label if the pills can’t handle a birth canal that’s already opened for another baby.

Oh well. Nothing for it. He limps back to his office and drops into a squat as soon as he closes the door, groaning at the relief of his pelvis flaring open. He hisses through his teeth as the head surges forward, stinging his cunt, and cups his bulging lips, exhaling shakily as he tries to massage them. The positioning just happens to make his palm into a nice little divot for his swollen cock to rub against, and he feels it going rock hard as his cunt grows round and heavy with the barely-held head. He keeps it there, rocking his hips and massaging for a long while before finally the pressure is unbearable, and he starts to push.

He crowns quickly, and this time as he tends to his stretched lips, he circles his fingertips around his perked cock every once in a while, too, teasing it. When he births the head, the release of pressure almost feels like something more, so much so that it leaves his cock pulsing and tender to the touch. But he leaves the poor little thing lonely while he guides his second baby out, easily pushing out one shoulder and then the other.

After another nanny from his team whisks away the new child, and he rubs the limp, heavy shape of the one remaining in his womb. He glances at his watch, seeing it’s only a bit after 4:30. The pills might not be enough to get him through the business dinner tonight—hors d'oeuvres will start at 5:00, main course at 6:00, and the execs will probably want to stay for coffee after the sales guys leave, so that could go to 9 or 10, easy. And with his birth canal now twice-loosened… he needs something more.

He unlocks the special drawer of his desk and hums thoughtfully as he surveys the contents. His selection of toys has seen a lot of use during his pregnancy; sometimes nothing can satisfy the hormones like wearing a vibe all day or sitting on a dildo during a video call. But one item that hasn’t seen much use is a massive plug. He intended to use it to stretch himself out before the births, but his one attempt to get it in had failed after over an hour of trying. Now, though…

He spreads his legs, and gently holds his tender, birth-stretched lips back. He had to give up at 3/4ths of the way inside when he first tried it, but this time the plug glides easily to that depth. His aching birth canal clutches at it, and he rolls his head back, squirming in exquisite pain. With slow, gentle screwing motions back and forth, he works the plug in. It’s massive, but it still feels small compared to a head.

“Come on,” he moans, “come on, c—AH!” His body jerks as the plug pops inside, settling happily beyond the still remarkably elastic muscles around his opening, nudging heavily against his poor cervix. He cringes and squirms a little, feeling something almost like suction as his dilated cervix flexes around the blunt nose of the toy. “Ohhh fuck…”

It’s massive. His overused cunt stings around it and the discomfort of it peeking into his womb makes him feel almost sick, but he knows one thing for sure: that baby isn’t going anywhere while he’s plugged like this.

He staggers to his feet, and spends the whole time getting ready for the dinner groaning loud and long as the plug shifts inside him, its weight bullying his cunt for every moment. His little cock tents his briefs, standing so hard that he can even see it through his slacks, though he doubts anyone else would notice, especially beneath the shadow of his still-huge belly. Though he’s pushed out two of the triplets now, his womb still feels half-full, maybe more.

He’s still big enough that no one at the dinner seems to suspect that he’s already started delivering. They can tell he’s close, what with the slow, wincing, wide-stanced way that he walks, and how he can’t stop shifting when seated, but no one bothers him about it as he keeps his spirits high and the subject on business.

After it takes two employees to help him groan himself to his feet, he waddles heavily into the bathroom to check the plug. There’s so much pressure that he isn’t surprised when he sees his crotch bulging obscenely low, so stretched that it’s shaped like a head is halfway out of him even though there’s barely a glimpse of the dildo’s silicone between his puffy red lips. He shudders and strokes his perked dick, eyes rolling back at its sheer sensitivity.

Though he could spend hours touching his birth-swollen cunt, he knows the other execs are waiting for him in the lounge. He’s shuffling slow with a hand to his back and his hips heavily forward when he joins them. Without the employees to behave for, half the exec board is coming over to tease him about how close he looks, and tell him he really should be in the hospital, and feel his still-shockingly-taut belly beneath his straining shirt. He indulges in their attention, subtly rocking his hips to feel the massive plug.

But soon, too soon, he feels the breath-stealing cramp of a head splitting his cervix. His cunt lips sting, cupped between the weight of his plug-deformed pussy and the crotch of his slacks.

With ties loosened around the room and more than a little of someone’s flask of whiskey shared between most of the execs, they’re bolder in watching him. One of the board members reclines on a couch, trailing fingers over the stark line stretching the crotch of his slacks. The vice president of marketing sits on the arm of a chair, her sharp pencil skirt hiked halfway up her thigh and her hips rolling against the upholstery.

It’s the CFO who finally approaches him.

“What’s this?” His deep, cool baritone makes the pregnant man shudder, and that’s before the heavy hand with the Rolex on the wrist cups his bulging crotch. “The head’s coming?”

“No.” He groans and lets his head fall back, settling his weighty cunt in this powerful man’s hand. “Head’s… in my cervix. Mmh.” The suppressant is beginning to wear off, the single steady cramp he’s felt all around his pelvic cradle tightening into something with more promise. “Ohhhh…”

“Then what’s this?” The CFO gently hefts the weight in his hand, and the laboring exec moans wretchedly.

“Ohhh, fuck. It’s- a plug. It’s plugging me up. Keeping the baby in. But- I feel it coming.” Before he knows what’s happening, his cunt bulges and the plug presses firmly against the CFO’s palm. “Oh- fuck, I’m pushing… oh…”

The CFO makes a low, purring sound. He strokes the straining pussy in his hand. “Why don’t you show us, baby?”

His head spins, the burn in his pussy increasing as he pushes the head firmly into his cervix. The contraction passes, leaving him gasping, swaying his hips, groaning. The CFO, still holding him by the bulge of his crotch, guides him by the plugged pussy to an ornate rug in the middle of the room. He unbuttons the laboring exec’s slacks and tugs them down, along with his soaked underwear.

“Come on, be a team player and show us.”

His cock aches as he sinks shakily to his knees. As a contraction grips his lower back, he groans and falls forward onto his hands, leaving his bare pussy upturned between his legs, showing the room how it stretches obscenely around the massive plug. The whole room watches as more and more black silicone inches out.

“Holy shit, he really plugged his cunt up,” someone says.

The exec in the pencil skirt draws a knee up and lets a hand fall between her toned thighs, openly circling two manicured nails over the seam of her pantyhose. “He likes it. Being good and plugged for us this whole time.”

With a wrung-out moan, he releases the push, shuddering as he feels his lips suck the plug back in. He rocks in place, limbs trembling as the muscles in his lower body remain seized tight around the head in his cervix.

He’s still catching his breath when his belly tenses towards him again. He gasps, disoriented by how quickly that came on, what was that, a minute? 30 seconds?

“It’s coming,” he groans as his cunt squeezes uselessly around the plug. “The baby’s coming, I need to push it out…”

“Hm.” Footsteps behind him. Then, a playful tap on the base of the plug, barely a nudge but still enough to make him whimper and jerk away from the stimulus. “Well,” says the CFO, “I guess you need to push out this plug, first.”

The thing is, he could reach around and get the plug out of his own pussy if it came to it. There is no actual reason to continue to endure this pain, the gut-twisting discomfort of being blocked from birthing.

But his cock is so hard.

Panting, he hangs his head and pushes.

Though the plug is a bit smaller than the heads he’s already crowned today, the base is so unforgivingly flat that every time he gets close to expelling it, his burning, swollen cunt lips just won’t relinquish the corners. He can feel his cunt bulging out far, so stretched that he realizes with a lurch of twisted heat that it will never be the same after this.

And every time the plug sinks back in, the corner drags over his gspot, making his engorged cock jump at the peak of his yawning cunt.

He pushes for a long time, until his whole body quivers and drips with cold sweat. He manages to push the baby’s head through his cervix, but that only forces it in alongside the plug, making him wail as the plug wedges at an angle against the wall of his birth canal, straining it well beyond its ability and forcing his opening to stretch abruptly to the left.

“AUGH!” He sounds like a kicked dog, his voice coming in rasping barks and whines. “Fuck, I need it out, I need it out, the head, the head—!”

“Aw,” says the CFO, pulling out of the drooling minor exec who’s been choking on his cock, “it’s okay if you can’t do it. You should have told me it was too big.”

He pants, feeling the part of the child still in his womb bounce with his aching abdominal muscles. His cunt twitches futilely. Then, when a contraction comes, he tucks his chin to his chest and lows as he pushes with everything he’s got. The plug surges inside him, straining at his entrance for a second, two, three…

“AaaaaAAAAUGH!” A throat-tearing scream busts out of him just as the plug does. The hunk of silicone makes a thunderous noise when it hits the floor, and people around the room gasp and marvel at the sight of it.

The CFO laughs in delight and calls him a good boy, and he only half-listens, because the shoulders of his final baby just spread his cervix and the head is heavy in his cunt. After so much stimulation, the pressure of the skull on his gspot makes his cock so hard it stings.

“Ohhhhh…” he starts to rock on his hands and knees, swiveling his hips around. “Oh, please. I need it. There, there, there—“ he babbles desperately to his own body as he tries to position it just right, chasing that swelling, pulling feeling beneath the pain, that release just a breath away…

He contracts and screams as he pushes the head to a crown. “I’m so full,” he groans, “so full.” He hears exclamations and expletives as everyone looks at his swollen pussy framing the perfect circle of the emerging head. “So full, the pressure, it’s so, it’s so…” He goes down on his elbows and keeps rocking, moaning brokenly as the position piles pressure on his gspot. His cock is a burning, pulsing point of sensation.

“Ohhhh here it comes, here it comes, I’m gonna push it out, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—!” He goes lightheaded with effort and feels his cunt budge the head as it clenches, his cock tingling, and-

The sudden relief of birthing the head tips him over the edge, and he screams as he cums, rutting weakly in the air as his twitching cock goes overstimulated and untouched. It keeps washing over him, making him twist and grip at the carpet and keep pushing, and with a surge of agony and unbearable pleasure, he thrusts his hips back and cums out the shoulders.

Not able to resist the call of the squishy squirming hyper virile sperm. Knowing that just one can make a breeding bovine pregnant with multiples. Its like the need to feel some of them thrashing in his hole and belly are calling to him like a siren. And- they won't miss one hyper sperm right? At least maybe they wouldn't have but he got greedy. Seeing the breeders with rounded squirming bellies as they were stuffed full of hyper sperm. Maybe he wanted a couple inside to feel them properly thrash. It was just gonna be that.

But he wasn't ready for how good it felt having his hole forced wide to take the live thing. As soon as it makes contact the hyper sperm practically lunges into his hole and starts moving. He gets through three before his vision goes white and he comes to with the farmer standing over him. Hands on his hips looking down at him. His bellies distended a bit with noticeable movement- caught littlerally with his pants down stealing merchandise.

The farmer deciding if he wants a belly full of hyper sperm he'll give him a belly full of hyper sperm. All before shoving him into place in one of the breeding stocks- his hole on display for anyone to use. And shoving a blinder over his eyes so he can't even see. But he sure does feel the first oversized breeder bull cock that reshapes his hole. Fucked like livestock and hyper sperm unloaded right into his hole.

Having a belly full of as much hyper sperm as he could hope for and than some. Cumming over being used as the cumdump stress relief toy for all the hucow and hubull studs. The writhing of the hyper sperm in his bloated belly only continues between rounds. Sometimes cumming just from the sensation of them writhing non stop. Hyper sperm only becoming more and more aggressive the more breeding competition that's fucked and unloaded inside himself.

A week goes by of having only more hyper sperm fucked into him. The writhing only having gotten stronger as the days went by. And the farmer finally pulls the breeding stock apart so it can be cleaned. All while the farmer pulls off the farmhand's blinder. The farmhand thumps onto his ass his entire weight lurching forward when his belly thwamps downwards like the rest of him. He pants and gasps and he almost screams at the sight of his middle.

His belly was large- it was obsurdly large. Grown out past his own knees, a dark heavy line down the middle like he was ripe. He couldn't even see over his expanse of an overstuffed belly. A grown adult could easily fit inside his cum ruined gut. The farmer saying the farmhand was finally done. His gut jumped with the usual movement before a solid thawp on his belly from the farmer makes the farmhand grunt. The heavy hyper sperm start thrashing up a storm over the jostle. His boss says he hopes he enjoys the promotion-?

That's when he realizes there's something on the side of his cum tank belly. Right where the farmer touched him. He freezes at the sight.

There was a big sticker that had been slapped onto the side of his gurgling groaning gut. It was in the shape of a hoof print with text laid out on top of the design.

It said "Calves on board". Like those car stickers-!?

A rounded bulge distended his stomach from the inside out right above the sticker. The bulge slowly dragged across his taunt skin before disappearing back underneath his skin- the heavy non stop writhing in his middle suddenly made him realize he looked obscenely pregnant with active brats. But he- Bulls can't impregnate humans! Right!? His stomach groaned loudly when his occupants only thrashed harder. Rounded bulges mishapening his gut further. The gurgling in his gut now louder as his insides were stirred up-!

He- couldn't be pregnant! He couldn't-!

The farmhands eyes locked back onto the "calves on board" sticker still attached to his cumtank belly.

Or... maybe he should say his hyper pregnant belly? How- how many was he pregnant with-? He couldn't even count how many different sources of movement were currently squirming inside him. Over active calves much heavier than the hyper sperm were. Distending his skin farther than any of the hyper sperm had.

He thinks he's gonna cum again when his gut groans and starts pushing outwards even further. Belly only expanding more to hold however many brats he'd have to father.

Rising from the morning service, you take your usual task for the day from the elder monk who oversees the second order and go to the wood shed. Wagons of wood have been dumped to one side, and you will split and stack as much as you can for the day before evening service. It's one of the few tasks that permit you to remove your robes, leaving you in a thin linen shirt and plain trousers. 

You chop wood all morning and afternoon, pausing only for water and brief rests to catch your breath. You're unsure as to what your brothers do during their menial labors, but you recite the prayers you learned in the abbey's school down the hill, preparing to enter as a monk. It means you pray for hours and hours every day and have since your induction into the second order several months prior. You wonder if it makes you a good monk, or merely one who doesn't understand the calling of your god. 

By the evening service, you are physically exhausted, but you take your spot at the back and watch as the rest of your brothers file in, robes perfectly ordered and faces lowered. The abbot begins the first prayer, voice smooth and even and ringing in the temple chamber, echoed by the brothers. You notice the abbot's robes aren't falling quite right for once, but know better than to remark upon it at dinner. No one ever remarks upon why. 

When you recite the last prayer, entreating your god to use you as an instrument for the faith, as a vessel for his will, to bless you as he sees fit, you feel a warm sort of squeeze low in your belly. Thinking nothing of it, you rise at the end and go to the refectory for your dinner. Your days pass in a very similar fashion, right down to the warm squeeze in your pelvis at the end of every service. By the end of the week, you've begun to anticipate that squeeze. You've also noticed the abbot looking distinctly blessed, as it were. Sooner or later, he will miss a service and then all will be as it was. Indeed, he misses the evening service a week after those warm sensations began, and at the end of the final prayer, you feel a distinct pop! instead of the usual pulse. You eat dinner as usual, speaking amongst your friends, and go to bed with a final prayer before blowing out the candle. 

In the morning, when you dress, you notice your trousers are fitting rather snug. Usually comfortable and easy to move in, they're tight across the front of your hips and lower belly. There are no mirrors in the abbey, but you think maybe your middle feels a little less flat than it normally does- that, or the monks in the laundry boiled the clothes too long again. You carry on with your day, eating breakfast, attending the morning service, and then taking this week's assignment. The abbot lets his eye linger over you for a moment before sending you to the kitchens. Surprised, you report to the cook-monk and begin washing the endless supply of dishes. As you work, you recite your prayers over and over and over. When everyone departs for the evening service, your trousers are pinching terribly, and you know. 

Instead of praying for the god's blessing, you recite the prayers of thanks and gratitude. He chose you to carry his next offering, to use you as his vessel. You indeed had patience to wait to be sure, and wisdom enough to recognize the earliest signs. You've been in the abbey less than a year, and already carrying an offering inside you!

At dinner, you're quieter but immensely pleased, and eat your meal quickly to retire to your room. Shedding your robes, you notice the way your once-flat middle pushes out between your hip bones, straining the waist of your trousers. Releasing the buttons, you know immediately that you won't be able to do them back up in the morning, the bulge pushing out as the pressure is released. Stripping down to your undergarment, you smooth your hands over the firm bulge, your callouses scraping the smooth skin. Out of habit, you recite a prayer in your head, and feel a gentle pressure against your palms. Did your belly... grow?

Kneeling down beside your cot, you rest your hands on the modest bulge and bow your head. One after another, you recite every prayer that you could possibly apply to your situation. The more you mean them, the more your gut begins to strain out and away from your body. And with every bit of growth, the gratitude becomes more and more sincere. 

When the curfew bell rings, you jolt out of a sort of trace, and admire the taut globe under your hands. Deep inside you, something swishes and flutters. Your blessing! Deeply satisfied, you clamor quickly into bed, eager for the morning and yet more to offer your god. 

Dressing for the day, you can fit into only your robes, your stomach having swollen further through the night. Eating quickly, you are one of the first into the temple for the service, second only to the abbot. He watches you cross to your spot near the back, undeniably blessed, and there is surprise in his features. Kneeling down and lowering your head, you begin to pray again. During the service, you hardly notice any growth at all, but once you're back washing dishes, everything accelerates again. Twelve hours at a sink leave you with lots of time for worship, and your burgeoning belly swells outward, eventually impeding your ability to reach into the deepest sink. The flutters turned to swoops and rolls and then undeniable hands and feet under your skin and robes. Leaving the back corner of the kitchen, the cook-monk does a double-take when he sees your altered gait. You pray fervently in the service, pulling your navel another inch away from your spine, weight sinking deeply into your pelvis. Soon, so soon, you will have committed your first offering to your god!

The moment your door closes behind you, you strip naked again and stroke the prodigious belly hanging off of your frame. Kneeling beside your bed again, you get through the first line of the first prayer of gratitude when something gives way inside you, and fluid gushes from your hole to splatter on the floor. Again, you sink into the trance as you pray, meaning every word with every fibre of yourself. Your enormous belly visibly tightens in a regular pattern, the weight sinking further into your pelvis, pleasure rolling in waves through you. You stroke your erect cock with one hand as a spasm rolls through you, tipping your head back in pleasure. 

Just as the curfew bell rings, you feel the undeniable urge to bear down. Pressure and pleasure mix as you tuck your chin, pushing and praying in equal measure. Something begins to spread your hole, and you reach back to feel the muscular ring sitting open about an inch. The next spasm seizes you, and you mentally scream your prayers to your god as your body clenches down in ecstasy. Your hole softens and spreads more, leaving your hand there to feel your progress. The next spasm never relents, spreading your body as you stroke your cock with one hand and cup your blessing as it emerges from your body with the other. Stuck in the unrelenting spasm, you silently scream through a few orgasms as the blessing is pushed out into the world. 

Slumped against the edge of the bed, it takes a few minutes for you to come around enough to reach down and touch the babe between your thighs. There's no cord, no afterbirth, just aftershocks as your belly returns to its sleek, lean state right before your eyes. Scooping the babe up, you wrap him in a towel from your washstand. Absolute perfection. Your god planted a seed of his power in your body, and your devoutness brought forth the blessing in a matter of days, instead of the two or more weeks most monks take- only the abbot could do it a single week. 

Laying down on the bed with your perfect bundle, you drift off without meaning to, and wake late the following morning. No one would bother you unless you called for aid- some brothers took days to be delivered of their blessings. The child rooted at your chest, and you didn't protest when he latched onto your nipple, though you hadn't developed breasts. The babe was nourished anyway, a hot prickle announcing the let down of milk. Amazed, you fed him from the other side before drifting off again. 

You next awoke in the middle of the night, though a candle burned on your bedtable. Sitting on the foot of the bed was a glorious, naked man. Impossible to describe visually but radiating heat, and with the cleverest golden eyes. 

"You didn't bring your offering to my alter," the god said mildly, studying the way you cradled the babe against you. 

You lower your head, ashamed. "I have failed you, my lord."

The god shook his head. "I will overlook the disobedience this time, but next time, the offering must be given over to the alter, to me. Do you understand?"

You nod sadly, offering the babe to him. He takes pity on you briefly, speaking as he accepts the child. 

"This is the price the founders of this abbey agreed to pay in exchange for the ability to find and preserve the knowledge of this world," the god said, tucking the babe into the crook of his elbow. "The brothers will bear my offerings, but not raise them. Instead, these babes are raised throughout the kingdom- to return to join the order and continue to seek the knowledge of this place, and bring forth the next brothers. Only when all of history and learning is safe within these walls will the price be considered paid." 

You marvel up at your god. "But that's... we can never achieve that. Not when this kingdom, when civilization continues to expand, to make progress!"

"I know," the god said, smirking as he rose with the babe. "Enjoy your blessing."

Deep in your belly, you felt that distinct pop! again. Without hesitating, you began to recite your prayers again, a bulge pushing outward between your hipbones again. 

He’s been at it for nearly an hour, taking his time, keeping himself right at the edge, wanting his orgasm to last. Wanting to feel overwhelmed. It’s been so long since he’s done this, let alone done it with anyone else, and he’s so much more sensitive than usual. 

One flick of his thumb across his slit has him writhing on the bed, precum leaking from the head of his cock. 

He lets go, letting out a pathetic moan at the loss of pressure, and turns himself over on his hands and knees, tucking his pillow under his hips. The soft cotton brushes the head of his dick and he cries out, pulling his hips away in an attempt to subdue the pressure building much faster than he wanted. 

If he was lucid, and not focusing so heavily on breathing through the pleasure, he might have noticed he was practically presenting himself to the window, of which he’d forgotten to draw the curtain on. He’d been so concerned with other things…

He takes another deep breath, his stomach muscles jumping, his cock twitching between his legs, and then he slowly lowers himself onto the pillow, grinding down into the soft cotton. 

The pleasure spikes immediately and his hips stutter, pulling away once more, his chest heaving. Every inch of his skin burns with need. 

“A few more minutes,” he breathes to himself, fisting a hand into the sheets, holding the pillow with the other. “You can go longer.”

He shuffles his knees, widening his stance, and then he ruts into the pillow again, his ass leaking over the backs of his thighs. His balls tighten, his thighs and arms trembling from it all, and he thrusts once, then twice, and then finally…he lets go. 

A pained scream punches through him, his whole body tensing and then shuddering as he releases, his hips grinding relentlessly against the pillow, drawing it out as much as he can. 

His stomach muscles ache from how tense he is, his thighs trembling so hard he can barely stay up. Cum leaks out of him, all over his pillow, and he grips his dick, stroking it again, watching another drop of thick white cum spurt out of him, his mouth opening on another moan. 

He’s spent, exhausted, and all together ready to pass out and deal with the mess in the morning when the window behind him shatters.

His heart lurches in his chest and he curls in on himself, the noise deafening. He looks up just in time to see a massive figure looming by the window, the illumination of the moon making him look like a giant. 

“What the fu–”

He chokes on his words, rough hands gripping him and yanking him onto the floor, his knees landing hard on the wood floor. The man puts all of his weight against Adam, effectively trapping him on the floor, and Adam tries not to panic. 

The feral alpha. The one they warned about. But how?

“Get off me,” he tries, attempting to push himself up and away, but the alpha growls threateningly and the hairs on the back of Adam’s neck stand on end. He freezes. 

The worst thing he can do now is piss off an already feral alpha. He has to submit. Or at least pretend he is.

“Okay, okay. I won’t move,” he says quietly, relaxing his body as much as he can so the alpha knows he’s not trying to get away anymore. It’s hard to breathe with such a heavy weight bearing down on him. 

The alpha grumbles, the growl in his chest subsiding to more of a rumble. Adam tries to think, tries to figure out a way out of this, but he’s trapped. Completely. 

The alpha buries his nose in Adam’s throat, an appreciative moan falling from his lips and Adam has to hold back his shudder. This is so not what he wants to be doing right now. Especially not with a feral alpha. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

He turns his head, trying to get a better look at the man, but the only parts he can see are covered in fur, the man’s face near full transition. It would be hot if it was consensual. 

“Can you please let me go. I won’t run away, I promise. It’s just hard to breathe.”

Reasoning with a feral alpha. Way to go, he chastises himself. But, the alpha shifts a little, no longer such a heavy weight, and Adam breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.”

A grumble of approval echoes through the half wolfed out alpha, and Adam has half a mind to just let the man do what he wants. At least then maybe he can get out of the situation faster. 

He moves slowly, reaching towards the jeans he’d left on the floor by the bed. In his hurry to be naked he’d left his phone in the pocket.

He grabs the jeans, ever so slowly pulling them closer, and a deep growl rumbles through the man on top of him, warning him. 

Adam slows to a stop, heart thundering in his chest. If he makes a wrong move, he’ll be dead before anyone even knows he’s in trouble. 

“Just getting my phone,” he says carefully, making his movements obvious and slow. The alpha growls low in his chest, his hips rutting up against Adam’s bare ass, and he’s suddenly very aware of the fact that neither one of them have clothes on. 

The slick on his ass is still sticky and the alpha’s heavy cock brushes into it, slicking himself up, blindly rutting against Adam. If he wasn’t so scared of being killed, he might actually enjoy it. 

The alpha continues his rut, his teeth brushing over Adam’s shoulder and he moves to grab his phone again, really not willing to be forcefully mated to this alpha he doesn’t even know. The slick case of his phone slips out of the pocket, his fingers fumbling to unlock it. He’s starting to feel a warmth growing in his gut, an unfortunate side effect of having an alpha rutting against his naked ass for the last 10 minutes. 

The phone starts ringing and Adam waits with bated breath until…

“911, what’s your emergency?”

His breath shudders out of him as he answers. 

“The feral alpha…is in my room. He has me pinned. Please hel-ah!”

Sharp teeth break through his skin and he can’t hold back his pained gasp. The 911 operator is saying something but he can’t focus through the flood of pleasure and pain coming from his shoulder. 

Every nerve in his body is responding to this alpha’s mating bite, making him more slick and needy, his cock giving an interested twitch. The alpha seems to notice the change and lets out a happy little growl, his hips getting rougher, his fingers digging into Adam’s waist and shoulder. 

“Sir? Are you there?”

Adam can barely hear around the blood rushing through his ears. 

“Ahh, fuck. Yes, yes I’m here. He’s just bit me,” he spits out, narrowly keeping his moan from escaping. 

“Ok, just stay calm. Don’t provoke him. Police will be at your location in 10 minutes. Just stay on the line.”

Adam lets out a shuddered breath, his body aching now. Sweat drips down his temple, leaving trails over his forehead as he tries not to give in to the man attempting to use him. It’s hard.

“Is he inside you?” he hears the woman ask, her voice barely a whisper through the pleasure coursing through him. 

“Not yet,” he answers, unsuccessful this time as he lets out a lewd moan, slick leaking out of him in a steady flow now. 

He doesn’t hear what she says in response. He can only focus on the heavy cock fumbling between his legs, slipping in and out of his slick soaked thighs. The heat only grows, so insufferable that he can’t stand it anymore. 

“Okay, okay, please just…”

He reaches back, fumbling for the alpha’s heavy cock, trying to keep him still long enough to direct him to where Adam so desperately needs him. The alpha’s hips stutter and pause, just long enough for Adam to grab the thick head of the alpha’s cock and direct it to his ass. 

He presses back, mouth falling open with a loud moan as the tip of the alpha’s cock slips past the slick, tight rim of his ass. Adam nearly cums right then and there. 

“Please,” he begs, pushing back against the alpha. The growling grows lower, a grumble deep in the alpha’s gut, and it echoes through Adam, making his knees tremble. 

“Please,” he begs again.

The alpha finally catches on, pushing his hips forward, shoving every thick inch of his cock deep into Adam and Adam screams, his whole body tensing at the intense mix of pleasure and pain. 

The alpha doesn’t stop once he starts. He continues his rut, making satisfied grunting noises with every thrust, and Adam tries to hold on. His hands slip on the floor, so he reaches back, gripping the back of the alpha’s neck, yanking on the hair there, and it only serves to make the alpha move faster. 

“Yes, yes, please, faster,” he cries, the phone on the floor completely forgotten. 

The alpha presses him harder into the floor, the sound of his balls slapping against Adam’s ass echoing in the small room. His slick makes everything wet and easy, the squelching sound loud on every thrust. 

Adam moans louder, unable to hold it back anymore, and then suddenly he’s screaming through an orgasm. An orgasm that shoots through him so hard and fast that he seizes on the floor, unable to get away from the pleasure running its course through his entire body. He chokes on his cries, the alpha’s teeth once again buried in his shoulder, and cum shoots out of him, coating the floor and his stomach, making another mess he’ll just have to clean up later. 

He’s just barely lucid when he feels the start of a knot pressing against his rim. And with his orgasm comes clarity, and a sudden realization that he’s in a terrible position right now. 

“Wait, stop, please don’t–AH fuck!”

He’s too late. The knot grows too fast, easily pressing past his rim and it expands even further, filling him up. The alpha’s hips slap against him, desperate needy whines coming from the man above him, and then Adam’s insides are on fire. 

“Oh my god. No no, please,” he begs, but the alpha isn’t listening. 

The knot locks into place and Adam can feel his insides being flooded with ropes of cum. It’s so thick and heavy, making his stomach expand with every release, and he knows he’ll be swollen and heavy by the time the alpha’s knot goes down. 

The alpha makes a pitiful noise, his tongue lapping over the bites on Adam’s shoulder, making him shudder. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the alpha felt bad for what he did. But feral as he is, there’s nothing in his head but the need to breed.

There’s a knock at the front door of his house and Adam’s heart lurches. The cops. He’d completely forgotten about them. Shit.

“The cops are here,” he says, craning his neck to look up at the alpha, but the man is already alert. His eyes are focused on the door, his nose sniffing at the air, no doubt smelling another alpha in the area. 

“Are you still there, Adam?”

Adam turns away from the alpha to look at the phone.

“I’m here. Please tell them to be careful. He’s still inside me.”

The woman confirms she’s told the men outside to be discreet, but the second the door busts down, the alpha is up on his knees, holding Adam against his chest. 

The shift in position makes Adam cry out, his ass pulling at the knot. It’s still pumping him full of cum, and he can just barely see his lower belly poking out from his hips. 

The door to the bedroom swings open and Adam holds his breath, completely exposed to the two cops currently pointing very large weapons into his room. One of them even covers his nose, taking a step back from the doorway.

The alpha has him by the throat now, his hand squeezing possessively, his other arm wrapped tight around Adam’s waist, holding him as close as possible. 

The cop to the left steps back again, grabbing his walkie talkie on his shoulder. 

“Confirmed visual on the feral. He has an omega in hand.”

Adam can only watch as the men try to reason with the alpha, try to get him to let his guard down, but he doesn’t let up. He’s still gripping Adam as hard as he can, his fingers squeezing bruises into Adam’s throat and waist. 

“Adam? Can you hear me?”

The other cop, the older of the two, looks down at him.

Adam opens his mouth to respond but the alpha squeezes harder.

“Just blink once if you understand me.”

Adam blinks once. 

“We’re going to have to neutralize him. But we can’t do that until he’s no longer stuck with you. Do you understand?”

Adam’s stomach aches and his chest hurts, but he blinks again. 

“Good. How long has he been inside you? Blink when I say the right amount of minutes.”

Adam blinks again in understanding. His knees ache and his cock is hanging limp between his legs, spent and sore, on sight for the cops to see. 

“5 minutes, 10 minutes,...”

Adam listens as well as he can, and as the cop gets to 20, he blinks. Close enough.

“Great. It won’t be long now then. Just hold tight.”

Adam wants to laugh. What else could he possibly do right now?

Another spurt of cum coats his insides and his mouth falls open on a groan, unable to hold it back. He’s so full.

“Have an ambulance on standby.”

A low steady, threatening growl is rumbling through the alpha, and Adam can tell it’s making the cops antsy. He truly hopes they don’t do anything stupid. 

The alpha behind him shifts, his knot deflating, and Adam feels cum and slick beginning to leak out of him. He collapses to the floor, unable to keep himself upright anymore, and as the chaos ensues around him, he can only focus on breathing, the edges of his vision closing in. The last thing he remembers is the howl of an enraged alpha.

**

He spends 5 days in the hospital. 3 days recovering from the forced mating bite and the ensuing mating sickness, and 2 more days of testing and monitoring for any health concerns that could prevent a healthy pup. The doctors refuse his every request for conception blockers. It isn’t easy these days to get plan B, or any other conception protection, not since the Omega Care Act was repealed. 

Despite his verification that the insemination was not consensual, and even a police report proving this, the doctors refuse to provide him with anything due to the mating mark. Every single doctor says he has to have his mate’s approval, despite the proof that his mate is a feral alpha currently in rehab. 

He leaves the hospital sick to his stomach, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in that this pregnancy won’t catch. That he’ll get lucky and wake up in a few months feeling normal. 

**

He’s not so lucky. About a month after the incident, he’s at work, and the sound of a young patient throwing up sends him running to the bathroom. His stomach rebels for nearly 30 whole minutes, and he knows without a doubt that he’s screwed. 

The 3 pregnancy tests he takes that night only confirm it. He’s pregnant. With a feral alpha’s child. He has half a mind to find some way to get rid of the pup, but he’d be caught so easily. He’s already registered in the hospital’s records as a possibly pregnant omega. He’ll be tried for murder if he tries to rid himself of the pup now. 

He’s stuck with this. 

**

Two months pass and he feels almost normal again. The window is finally fixed. The police figured the Alpha had been drawn by the scent of Adam masturbating. He still hated himself for that part. 

He’s in the shower, scrubbing the day’s sweat and exhaustion off, with plans of rotting away on the couch for the next 2 days, when his phone rings. He peeks around the shower curtain, seeing a number he doesn’t recognize. 

“Probably a scam,” he mumbles to himself, moving back under the spray of water. The phone rings two more times before he realizes it may be work and he turns the water off, wrapping a towel around his waist. 

It’s a local number, but there’s no other info. He decides to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Adam Grandey?”

“This is him,” Adam answers, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear as he dries himself off. 

“This is Lauren from the state police department. We’re calling to let you know that the feral alpha that attacked you two months ago broke out of rehab last night.”

Adam’s stomach drops. 

“We were tracking him until about two hours ago when we lost him in your area. We have a feeling he might be making another unplanned visit.”

His heart races, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the bathroom counter. 

“Can you send the police or something? If you know he’s coming here…”

“I’m sorry, but we’re not authorized to send a unit unless he actually breaks in. Since you are mated–”

“Not by choice,” he cuts in. She ignores him.

“We are not allowed to interfere in an alpha’s business, especially one with a pregnant omega. If he breaks in, we can charge him with breaking and entering, but…”

Adam wants to scream. 

“So I’m supposed to just wait until he breaks in again? Let him molest me all over again?”

He can hear the exasperated sigh on the other end of the line. 

“I’m truly sorry, sir but there is nothing we can do as of now. Please don’t hesitate to call us if anything happens.”

Adam hangs up the phone without another word. His stomach rolls and he just barely keeps himself from losing his dinner into the toilet. He’s the target of a feral alpha. Again. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, his shaggy brown hair floppy, still dripping down his back. The scar on his shoulder still looks brand new, a perfect outline of that alpha’s fangs. His eyes wander lower and he sees the slight pouch in his lower stomach. The pouch he’d been trying to ignore ever since he noticed it when trying to button his pants one morning.

He sighs, leaning against the counter, exhausted from being on edge so often. The smell of alphas would turn his stomach, and any tall figure made him jump. This is exactly what he feared. And yet, the memory of that night, of the heat and the slick and the desire he’d felt so deep in his gut, even before the mating bite, lingered with him. 

He still dreams of that night. Of how it felt to be so achingly full with his cock and cum. He wakes hard as a rock and aching to be full once more. 

His cock twitches under the towel and he scoffs, pushing his hand against it. He can handle it on his own.  

**

His gun sits on the bedside table, the window unlocked, and the door closed. Adam is dressed this time, in boxers and a tank top, laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. If the alpha does show, Adam will be ready.

Around midnight he drifts off, exhaustion weighing heavy on him. He can’t keep his eyes open any longer. 

At least, until he hears the sound of his window shifting, opening. 

He’s up in seconds, gun in hand, pointing it at the massive figure climbing in through the window. 

“Stay right there,” he demands.

The alpha unfurls himself to his full height, tilting his head to the side questioningly. He’s not quite as wolfed out this time, but he’s still way too big for Adam to handle on his own. Adam can see a sharp jawline, a nose perfectly crafted, and his hands are almost normal. No claws. 

But his eyes give him away. Bright red, they stand out in the dark of the room, staring at Adam with hunger and something else. 

“I won’t hesitate to shoot you. You need to go back to the rehab facility.”

The alpha makes a pitiful whining noise and Adam has to keep his fingers from shaking. This is the same alpha alright. 

“Go. Please.”

The man huffs, taking a step closer, but Adam lifts the gun higher, pointing it right at his chest. 

“I mean it.” 

A low, pained growl is rumbling through the alpha’s chest, and it takes every ounce of Adam’s willpower to keep the gun pointing forward. It just sounds so pitiful, like he actually wants to be here. Like he knows where he is and wants to stay.

That thought gives him pause. What if he’s not as feral as the police think?

“Can you…understand me?”

His head tilts again, but a flash of recognition shows in his eyes, the red fading slightly, before the hunger takes over again. 

Adam sees the hesitation in the alpha’s hands. He keeps opening and closing his fingers, probably trying to control his claws. 

He’s probably insane, but he doesn’t think this alpha will hurt him. At least not now that they’re mated. And he’s pregnant. 

“I’m going to put this down. Please don’t hurt me.”

Adam doesn’t see any signs of understanding, but he trusts his gut and puts the gun down on the floor, safety still on. 

In seconds, the alpha is on him, smothering him in his scent, burying his face in Adam’s throat. He struggles for only a few seconds before he realizes the alpha isn’t trying to do anything bad. He’s just scenting him. 

“This is not what I expected,” he mumbles to himself, wrapping his arms around the alpha’s waist, if only to keep himself from falling over under the man’s weight.

There’s a pathetic little whine coming from him, and Adam somehow finds it cute. Now that he’s paying attention and not delirious with pleasure, it feels quite nice to have an alpha so obsessed with him. Even if he is a feral one. 

“You missed me, didn’t you?”

The alpha snuggles closer, pushing Adam down onto the bed, and he huffs a laugh, letting the alpha lick over his throat. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The blue and white rehab clothes he wears are quite gaudy, but he doesn’t seem to even notice as he puts nearly his full weight on top of Adam, scenting him so heavily the room reeks of their combined scents. 

“You know, you could’ve started this way instead of what you did 2 months ago.”

The alpha doesn’t answer, just continues nuzzling him, and Adam sighs, resigned to his fate for the night. 

**

Adam wakes in the morning with the alpha wrapped around his back, both arms wrapped tight around him. At some point in the night, the rehab clothes had been shredded, and Adam’s tank top was bunched up under his chin. 

His boxers did nothing to hide the boner. He’s almost ashamed of himself, for allowing this to happen again. But…it could be worse. 

A low grumble sounds from behind him and the alpha shifts, his hips pressing up against Adam, making it very clear exactly what he’s thinking. His cock is just as big as Adam remembers, and his body remembers it very well. 

“Someone’s eager.”

The alpha shifts again, rutting up against Adam, his hips making desperate attempts to do something. Small, needy whines escape him and Adam grins, very willing to participate this time. 

“Let me help,” he says, reaching back to pull his boxers down off his ass. He’s only able to pull them down to his thighs, the alpha keeping him from moving any further. 

“I’ve got you. Do this,” Adam instructs, reaching back to find the head of the alpha’s cock, guiding it to his ass just as he’d done two months ago. Though this time, he’s enjoying it willingly. 

The alpha lets him do whatever he needs, and soon, Adam is being speared open by the alpha’s giant cock. It feels so good, so much better than he remembers. 

Adam just lets the alpha take over, enjoying the way his ass spreads around him, the way his slick leaks out around it every time he presses in. It’s so much calmer this time, nicer. 

“We can do this whenever you like if you keep this up,” he groans, pressing back. His stomach muscles tense and the alpha presses him into the bed, smothering him as he thrusts. The grunts and groans turn Adam on even more and he’s cumming in minutes, which seems to please the alpha. He wraps a hand around the head of Adam’s spent cock, coating his hand in Adam’s seed, and then smears it all over Adam’s back.

It’s disgusting, but also incredibly hot. Possessive and territorial were not on his list of turn ons, but clearly he just didn’t know better. 

As soon as the alpha’s cock starts to swell, Adam is lost to another orgasm, eyes rolling back in his head as the alpha’s tongue laves over his shoulder and throat, his cock pumping heavy loads of seed into him. If he wasn’t already pregnant, he would be this time. 

**

Adam spends the weekend at the apartment, the alpha following him around like a lost, territorial puppy. Any time Adam moves, the alpha is up in an instant, right on his heels. 

He’d tried at some point to get clothes on the man but he’d adamantly refused, even making a show of shredding the only large shirt Adam could find for him. He gave up after that. 

Adam enjoys it for the most part until he tries to go to the bathroom and the alpha follows him, standing right next to him as he handles his business. 

“You don’t have to be so close you know,” Adam says, chuckling. He tucks himself back into his boxers and washes his hands, the alpha still pressed up against his back. 

He’s unfortunately getting used to the man being so attentive. 

“Are you hungry?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, knowing he won’t get one, and makes his way into the kitchen. The fridge is scarce but he has enough for a few ham sandwiches so he makes do. 

The alpha stays quiet, somehow staying just out of the way as Adam moves around the kitchen, grabbing the items he needs. He isn’t paying close attention though as he closes a drawer, slamming his finger hard. 

He yelps, the pain sharp but already fading. However the alpha seems to think differently. 

A low, dangerous growl rumbles through him, his chest puffed up as he yanks Adam away from the drawer, staring at it as if it could actually back down. 

“I’m fine. Stop being so clingy.” Adam tries to pull away but he’s yanked back into the alpha’s thick chest. He can feel the alpha’s soft cock against his ass and needs to think about anything else to keep himself from making a bad decision. 

He looks up, seeing the red eyed glare, and chuckles to himself. If anyone had ever told him this would be his life…

The man finally looks down, grabbing Adam’s finger, inspecting the red flesh. Not even a bruise.

“See? I’m fine.”

He lets the alpha inspect it for a few more minutes and then gently pulls away, his stomach grumbling. 

“Let me finish making food. You can scent me after.”

That finally seems to get his attention and he lets go, still not moving far but at least letting Adam finish the sandwiches. 

“Come on.”

Adam leads them to the couch, settling down into the worn but comfortable leather, placing the plates on the table and tossing a throw blanket into his lap.

He reaches for his plate, digging into his own sandwich, humming as he finally gets food into his grumbling stomach. 

The alpha, seemingly satisfied for the moment, grabs his sandwich and digs in as well, though a little more frantic and far less civilized. It’s adorable. 

 After that it’s easy to just settle into the couch, the alpha laying himself across Adam’s lap, his arms wrapped around Adam’s waist. He nuzzles into Adam’s belly and Adam feels his heart lurch, a sudden longing for a life he thought he’d never have flashing through him. 

 The curtains flutter in the breeze coming through the open windows, the tv playing something he doesn’t care about, and his alpha, his mate, is heavy and warm in his lap, grumbling softly. He never thought he could have something like this. 

**

After that weekend, it’s nearly impossible to get rid of the alpha. Not that he wants to of course. He’s used to having that constant attention and he misses it a lot when he’s not around. But he has to work. 

The first few times he tries locking the alpha in the apartment, but he always comes back to an absolute mess. His underwear, dirty clothes, even his pillow strewn across the apartment, covering nearly every inch. 

So he starts letting the alpha out, letting him roam, with firm warnings that he has to stay away from Adam. It works for a few weeks, but Adam still sees him lurking in the shadows. Watching him from a distance.

It gives him comfort to know his alpha is always so close, even if it’s dangerous.

**

“That’s your pup.”

Adam holds the blurry black and white picture of his pup up for his alpha to see. The alpha looks at it, his eyes clear for the first time in the last 5 months. 

He looks up at Adam, brows raised, and then looks back at the picture, then down at Adam’s stomach. He repeats this a few times and Adam watches in awe, nodding. 

“It’s a little boy. They say he’s big for his age. He’ll probably be a big pup.”

The alpha blinks, a sign of recognition on his face. It’s the first time Adam has seen something other than hunger on his face. At least, the first time it has lasted longer than a few seconds. 

“Do you understand me? This,” he says softly, putting a hand on his belly. “This is your pup. You put him inside me. Do you remember?”

The alpha blinks again, looking back down at Adam’s stomach, and then back to Adam’s face. And to Adam’s complete shock, his alpha nods. 

It’s not impossible for a feral alpha to be brought back. It’s just…rare. There are so many factors into what sends an alpha into a feral state, and if you don’t know what caused it, you typically can’t fix it. The rehab facilities that have popped up in the last few years boast progress now, but it’s still far from perfect. 

So to see him nod in understanding, to answer a question, it’s shocking to say the least. 

“Holy shit…”

The alpha huffs, something akin to a laugh, and Adam opens his mouth in awe. 

“Can you talk now too?”

The alpha sniffs, turning his nose up at the idea, and Adam sighs. 

“It’s ok. We’ll work on that.”

**

Police are still on the lookout for the feral alpha that attacked, mated, and impregnated the omega several months ago. Sources say the omega hasn’t had contact since the attack, and the police haven’t found a trace of the alpha since he escaped the Sunrise Rehab Facility. Any tips are welcome at the number found on the bottom of the screen…

“You need to be more careful. They’ll probably find out I’m lying soon enough.”

The first time they came knocking was a week after his alpha broke out of the rehab facility. They’d questioned him and pushed him to give up the whereabouts, but he flicked them off and closed the door. And then once a month after, they would show up unannounced, knocking on his door, making his alpha agitated and anxious. 

He’s able to hide their combined scents fairly easily with some of the pheromone eraser wall plug-ins Walmart has started selling, but every time he uses one, his alpha freaks out and spends several hours re-scenting him and the house. On those days, his alpha gets a little more feral, and Adam curses the cops every single time. He’s so close to getting this man, his mate, to come back to his human self and they keep intruding. 

A kiss on his shoulder draws his attention and he sighs, enjoying the feeling of his Alpha’s arms wrapped around his middle. His thumbs brush gently over the underside of Adam’s belly, a new gesture of content, and Adam is definitely not complaining. 

“If they find out you’re here, they’ll take you away. But if you show you can be human…”

A low growl answers him and Adam sighs, leaning back against his Alpha’s shoulder. 

“I know, I know. It’s ok, I’m not forcing you. I’m just worried they’ll try to take you from me.”

A feral alpha is a threat to the community after all. 

A short nip at his ear makes Adam jump, slapping at his alpha’s arm. 

“You are not allowed to chastise me for being worried. It’s not like you’re careful. I still see you following me to work.”

It’s his alpha’s turn to sigh, tucking his nose under Adam’s jaw and scenting him heavily. Adam groans but doesn’t argue anymore. He’s too tired for that.

**

Adam once considered himself unlucky to have few friends, but now, with his life the way it is, he doesn’t really mind it. He can hole himself away in his apartment most nights with no problem. And with his alpha slowly but surely gaining his humanity back, it has been far more fun for him to stay home. 

“This is your pup.”

“...my…pup.”

Adam nods, a huge grin on his face. 

“And this is our house. Where we live.”

His alpha opens and closes his mouth a few times before stuttering out, “...our…house. We…live…”

Adam could die of happiness right now. 

“Yes! You’re doing so well!”

A crooked smile appears on his alpha’s face, though it’s clear he isn’t used to the expression anymore. Adam can’t help himself and leans in, stealing a kiss. He’s so excited.

“Can you tell me your name? I can’t just keep calling you ‘alpha’ in my head.”

There’s a brush of pride across his alpha’s face and Adam almost chastises him for the smugness, but he’s so excited to be hearing words that he lets it go. 

“Please? Tell me your name?”

His alpha huffs but opens his mouth, feeling around for the word…

“Der…Derek.”

“Derek?” Adam repeats, rolling the name around on his tongue. It’s so much better than ‘alpha’.

“Your…alpha.”

Adam barks out a laugh, caught by surprise by the extra addition. 

“Yes, my alpha. Even if you took that title by force,” Adam jokes, but Derek’s face pinches, his forehead bunching. 

“I’m just joking with you,” he tries to reason but Derek shakes his head. He reaches forward, fingers brushing against Adam’s lips. 

“I’m…sorry.”

Adam’s lips fall open but Derek continues. 

“But I am…glad. To…have you.”

Adam’s chest tightens and his eyes start watering.

“I’m glad to have you too,” he chokes out. 

Derek smiles again, and then it’s Derek’s turn to lean in and steal a kiss from Adam. Adam laughs through the tears, falling back to the floor and Derek follows, kissing deeper now. 

A low groan slips past Derek’s lips and Adam shudders, his cock already aching in his pants. 

“Fuck, Derek~” Adam moans out. Derek’s face lights up, his eyes glittering, and suddenly Adam is so glad he knows his name. 

“Derek?”

The raw groan that comes out of him makes Adam keen, his back arching off the floor. 

Derek takes advantage of this and wraps a muscled arm under Adam’s back, pulling him up to sit in Derek’s lap. Adam chokes on a groan, his cock squished against Derek’s abs. 

His belly pokes out more now too, pressing up against Derek, far more noticeable than it had been the past few months. 

“Can you say my name?” Adam asks, hopeful as he gazes into Derek’s hungry eyes. 

Derek’s lips move, his brows pinching, but he looks determined.

“My…mate. Adam.”

Adam’s heart swells in his chest and he’s done trying to hold himself back. Derek is his mate, no matter what. 

“Kiss me, you big oaf.”

And Derek does just that. He kisses Adam so deeply, so full of desire, that Adam loses himself to the feeling. His mind goes blank, empty. At least until a solid thump from his middle makes them both pause. 

Derek’s eyes go wide and he looks down at Adam’s belly.

Adam, still trying to recover from the sudden loss of Derek’s lips on his throat, blinks down at his belly too, waiting for it to happen again. 

He’s felt the pup quite a few times, little flutters of movement every now and then. But this one is bigger. More noticeable.

Derek’s hands shift to cover the sides of Adam’s middle, and Adam holds his breath, waiting for the feeling again. 

They don’t have to wait long. 

“Our pup!” Derek exclaims, a wide grin on his face. Kick after kick pushes against Adam’s ribs, but he can’t bring himself to complain as Derek’s face grows bright with excitement. This is the most joy Adam has seen from him since…well, ever. 

“Yes, our pup,” Adam echoes, a smile growing on his face as well. He thought he would hate it. Hate the feeling of something growing inside of him. But this…this was worth the rocky start. 

“What should we name him?” Adam asks. He doesn’t really expect Derek to answer, more just musing to himself. But…

“Theo. After my brother.”

Adam is speechless. Though he’s not sure if that’s from the fact that Derek actually gave him a name, that he didn’t even hesitate once in that sentence, or that he brought up a past Adam thought he didn’t remember. 

“You…you remember your brother?”

Derek’s brow furrows and red starts to bleed into his green eyes, so Adam shakes his head, running his fingers through Derek’s hair. 

“It doesn’t matter. You can tell me when you’re ready. For now, let’s enjoy the rest of my day off.”

Derek seems to pull himself out of the memories and gives Adam a pleased, grateful smile. Adam answers it, leaning in for a kiss, slipping his tongue past Derek’s lips. Derek opens easily, his tongue intermingling with Adam’s, and suddenly they’re back to their horny selves. Even if those four words are still echoing in the back of Adam’s mind.

**

The police seem to have finally backed down, finally given Adam’s continued insistence that he didn’t know where the feral Alpha was. Which…isn’t exactly untrue. His alpha isn’t feral anymore. Not like he was before. 

No, his alpha is currently wrapped around him in their now shared bed, snoring softly. He’s learning words, learning how to make food, even learning how to read again. And Adam is so very proud of his progress. 

Theo continues to make himself known, growing ever bigger as the time passes. At Adam’s last appointment, the doctor noted his growth to be further along than normal at this point in the pregnancy, and weighing in at nearly 10 pounds. Derek had been thrilled, Adam not so much. He was the one that would have to deliver the pup. 

Derek’s arm tightens around Adam’s waist and he winces, his already full bladder being pummeled by the pup inside him. The clock on the nightstand mocks him, ridiculously bright at 3:32am. Unable to hold it anymore, he lifts Derek’s arm off of him, slips from the bed with a grunt, then shuffles to the bathroom, a hand on his lower back. That’s another thing he hates. The back aches. 

He lets out a sigh of relief as he sits on the toilet, the release of his bladder incredibly welcome, and rubs his heavy middle. Stretch marks litter his sides, light pink and white all over. His bellybutton pokes out now too, which can be annoying. Most of his shirts are too tight, and it shows so prominently. Kids at work ask him all the time what it is, and he has to explain that he’s pregnant over and over. The parents are usually apologetic but he’s started to enjoy bragging about his pup. 

As if right on cue, Theo gives another kick, right against the hand he has resting on his side. Adam huffs, rubbing the skin there.

“Easy there little one or you’ll bust right out of me. Your papa won’t like that very much.”

The kicking doesn’t go away, but it does slow down. A little bit.

Adam shakes his head, using the sink counter to hoist himself from the toilet. Theo is going to be a handful for sure.

He finishes the rest of his business and shuffles out of the bathroom, only to find Derek standing right in front of the door, face tight and brow furrowed. 

“Are you okay?”

Adam blinks. He hadn’t heard Derek get up.

“I’m ok. I just had to pee. Theo likes to use my bladder as a punching bag.”

Derek doesn’t move. 

“Are you okay?”

Derek shakes his head, his huge form blocking the doorway. Even in the dark, Adam can see the tension in his shoulders. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks gently, slipping closer. He wraps his arms around Derek’s waist, letting his belly press up against him. It usually helps calm him down. 

This time is thankfully no different. 

“Bad dreams. I was worried. About you.”

Adam’s brow furrows and he brushes his thumb over Derek’s jaw, cupping his cheek. 

“I’m okay, I promise. Still in one piece, even if a little sore from carrying your heavy ass pup.”

Derek is caught off guard and huffs, his shoulders relaxing an inch or so. Adam smiles up at him, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Derek hesitates, his eyes growing distant. Adam has seen this look quite a bit the last few weeks, and he’s worried the memories of why Derek became feral are going to come flooding back. It’s already so rare for a feral alpha to come back to normal, and in almost all of those documented cases, the alpha nearly always goes feral again after remembering what happened the first time. There are a lot of ethical groups arguing against bringing feral alphas back from that state, because it only causes them more harm. But their argument doesn’t hold much weight because the few rare cases of successfully recovered alphas, small as that pool may be, have all stated they were glad to be back to normal. And that’s all Adam wants for Derek. 

“You don’t have to. But it can help you feel better.”

Derek deflates, his shoulders sagging. He leans in, putting his head on Adam’s shoulder, scenting him. 

“Don’t want to talk. Not tonight.”

Adam nods, rubbing his back. 

“That’s fine. Let’s go back to sleep then. My back hurts.”

Just like that, Derek is back to being the doting alpha Adam loves. He sweeps Adam off his feet, carrying him the short distance back to the bed, and Adam lets him. He enjoys it, despite himself. 

Derek shuffles Adam to the inside of the bed, closer to the wall. Usually this spot is for Derek, but when Derek climbs into the bed and wraps himself around Adam, protective, Adam doesn’t complain. This side of the bed is warmer anyway.

**

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home? You don’t look well.”

Adam shakes his head, rubbing away the already disappearing cramp in his side. 

“I’m alright. I only have a few more hours anyway.”

Susan doesn’t look like she believes him but she relents, handing him the clipboard for his next patient. 

Eight and a half months pregnant, he’s not exactly enjoying being up and moving around. And he would much rather be nesting at home. He’s far too close to his due date to be dealing with people that are not his mate, and Susan seems to realize this too. He’s cranky, uncomfortable, and Theo is constantly kicking his bladder, making him have to go to the bathroom every half hour. 

By the time the end of his shift rolls around, Susan already has his belongings.

“Go home. Don’t come back until after your pup is born. I won’t hear any arguments.”

Adam, loath to admit it, is incredibly thankful. He feels restless and miserable, and being here any longer might actually make him go insane. 

“Thank you. I’ll keep you updated.”

“You better! I expect to see pictures of that pup of yours.”

Adam chuckles and nods, promising to do just that before leaving the building. Thirty more minutes and he’ll be home and able to shower. And then it’s just a matter of waiting for his pup to arrive. He’s already decided on a home birth, unwilling to leave Derek out of it. And the one good thing that came out of the government repealing the Omega Care Act was the ability for Alphas to decide how long Omegas should be out of work, or if they’re allowed to go back at all. He already knows Derek will respect his wishes.

The car ride home is miserable, the cramps starting to grow worse. He knows they’re not full blown contractions yet, but they’re still incredibly uncomfortable. Thankfully, the second he pulls into the driveway, Derek is there helping him out of the car and off his feet. No doubt he followed Adam all the way home. The separation this late in the pregnancy has been rough on both of them. 

“Man, I love you so much. I want a bath.”

Derek nods, fully capable of doing everything Adam needs now, so Adam wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and relaxes, enjoying being pampered. 

Derek runs his bath, helping Adam wash his body, getting rid of all of the sweat and outside germs. Bathed, dressed, and content, Adam starts nesting, pulling every piece of clothing out of his drawers and closet. He arranges everything on the bed, fixing each item so it all lays perfectly around them as they sleep. Derek watches in silence, helping every now and then when Adam can’t reach something. 

By the time bedtime rolls around, Adam is exhausted. He lets out a yawn and Derek looks up from his spot in Adam’s lap. 

“Ready for bed?”

Adam nods, shuffling back against the pillows, letting Derek climb out of the bed to finish turning out the lights. By the time Derek gets back, Adam is fast asleep, cozy in his nest of their scents. 

**

“Can you tell me what you were like as a child?”

Adam starts small. Hopefully far enough back that it won’t spark Derek’s painful memories. Derek hums, running his fingers through Adam’s hair, his chest warm under Adam’s cheek. 

They spend a lot of their time wrapped around each other in the nest, anticipation heavy. The pup is due to arrive any day and Adam refuses to risk being out of the nest when that happens. 

“I was…a handful. My mom used to call me that. Always with a fond smile on her face.”

His voice rumbles through Adam, his breath brushing over the top of his head. 

“And your dad?” Adam asks, gently guiding the conversation. 

Derek’s fingers stop moving through Adam’s hair but he doesn’t stop talking. 

“He was good. Kind. Never cruel. Treated me with respect, even when I…disobeyed them.”

Adam chuckles, tracing his fingers over the trail of hair on Derek’s chest. 

“My luck, Theo is going to be a handful too. Just like you were.”

It’s Derek’s turn to huff, his fingers resuming their gentle, careful path through Adam’s hair. 

“He will be good. He may be a lot, but he will be a good pup.”

Adam lets himself imagine what Theo will look like. Will he be handsome like his Papa? Dark hair and green eyes? Will he get freckles like Adam? He even goes so far as to imagine Theo as a young boy, snaggle toothed, running around the yard with Derek, both of them play fighting. 

The image brings tears to his eyes. A life he never once expected, but one that would now be granted. 

“Are you okay?”

Adam sniffles, wiping his face. 

“I’m fine. Just thinking about our pup.”

Derek’s fingers shift under Adam’s chin, lifting it up so they can look at each other. 

“He will be a strong pup. You will raise him right. Just as my father raised me and my brother.”

Adam shudders a little at the easy mention of Derek’s family. Whatever happened to send Derek into a feral state, Adam is fairly positive it has to do with his family. He’s about to ask another question when a cramp steals his breath, making him whimper. 

Derek’s fingers disappear from his chin and move to the underside of his tightened middle, caressing the stretched out skin. 

“You are close.”

Adam nods, breathing hard through his nose. The cramps are becoming more consistent. 

“It won’t be long,” he promises, relaxing again as the cramp subsides. Derek reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing the wet rag he’d left there. He carefully runs it over Adam’s shoulder, over his back, taking special care with Adam’s extended middle. He’s so gentle, so careful. Like he’s scared of hurting him. 

“Derek, I–”

Ding dong.

Derek’s hackles raise immediately, his eyes bleeding red. Who the hell would be coming to the door at this hour?

“Calm down,” Adam whispers, sitting up with a grunt. His body feels so incredibly heavy, but with the sound of the doorbell ringing a second time, he sighs, forcing himself out of the nest. Out of comfort.

Derek whines and his fingers wrap around Adam’s wrist, keeping him close to the bed. Adam smiles softly, running his fingers through the dark hair on Derek’s head. 

“I’ll go see who it is. Stay here, just in case it’s the police again.”

A low growl comes from Derek at that, but Adam pats his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He steadies himself on the edge of the bed, reaching down for a pair of abandoned boxers on the floor. It’s hard but he manages, with Derek’s help, to get them on, along with an oversized, overstretched shirt. 

The stairs are worse, but he takes it one step at a time, keeping a hand on the railing and his other hand on his lower back. The doorbell rings again when he’s about halfway down the stairs.

“I’m coming!”

His ankles ache, and another cramp suddenly comes at him, making him pause at the bottom of the stairs. To hell with the person at the door. They shouldn’t be bothering him right now. Especially not in this state. 

The door finally comes into vision and he huffs, out of breath. He flips on the porch light and opens the door, shocked to find an officer standing there, hands tucked into his belt. 

“Can I help you officer?”

The man, a very large Alpha, gives a slight bow of his head, a stern look on his face. 

“Sorry to bother you at such a late hour. We’ve received reports of the feral alpha in this area. Have you seen him?”

Adam wants to scream and yell and cuss at the officer. Why can’t they just leave him alone?

“Do you really think he would still be wandering around here? How many times do I have to tell you people–”

His words are cut off by a pained gasp, his hand flying to the underside of his belly. This contraction is so much stronger than the last few. The officer takes a step forward, no doubt trying to assist but Adam shakes his head, refusing to have another alpha touch him at a time like this. 

“I’m fine,” he snaps, breathing heavily. “Please. I would like you to leave.”

The officer frowns, his brow furrowing. 

“Are you sure I can’t call someone for you? There’s no reason an omega like yourself should be laboring alone.”

“I said, I’m fineeeyyaaaaaah,” unable to hold back his pained scream. It’s so much worse. The man turns to his radio, but Adam shakes his head.

“Do not call an ambulance. I wish to do this alone. At home. Leave me alOOONE!” he screams again, nearly collapsing to his knees. But to his relief, and now suddenly to his horror, he realizes Derek’s hands are the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

A deep warning growl is emanating from Derek’s chest, and Adam’s heart lurches into his throat.

“Derek, no, you can’t…AHHH!” 

The growl grows louder, and the officer is now holding a gun, pointing it directly at Derek’s chest.

“No, please, don’t shoot!” Adam begs. Derek forces him back into the house, placing his bigger body in between Adam and the officer, protecting Adam. Adam screams as another cramp breaks through him, his fingers digging into Derek’s tense bicep.

“Step away from the omega!” the officer yells, his voice far too loud. 

Red bleeds into Derek’s eyes, and claws start to form at the tips of his fingers. Adam can’t lose him like this. Not now. Not ever.

“No, please, stop! He’s not feral anymore!”

Adam takes advantage of Derek’s distracted posture to push in front of him, blocking him now with his own body. His own, very pregnant body. 

The officer lowers his gun only slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Step away from the feral!”

Adam shakes his head, struggling to breathe between the fear and pain coursing through him. 

“No! He is my mate, and the father of my pup! You cannot legally step in!”

Derek’s growl is getting louder by the second. Adam doesn’t have much time.

“Please, I am not asking for hel-AAAHHHHHH NOOOO,” he pleads, gripping his stomach with clenched fingers, falling to his knees. The pain is so intense, so sudden he can only hold his breath until it passes. 

Derek’s fingers on his back are the only thing keeping Adam sane. And if they take Derek…if they take him away…

“Please,” he gasps, begging the officer. “Don’t do this.”

Derek shifts, once again putting himself between Adam and the officer, showing his whole back to the officer. A sign of submission. A sign of trust. 

Adam shakes his head, the pain only growing, his stomach seizing under his fingers. 

He looks up, finding Derek looking back at him, his eyes no longer the bright red of a feral alpha. No. They’re beautifully, wonderfully green. And bright, full of life and fear. 

“He will not harm you,” Derek promises, his beautiful, strong face determined. 

Adam shakes his head again, silently begging Derek to stand down. To threaten an omega, let alone a pregnant and laboring one, is to declare war on the omega’s alpha. And the officer must realize it too. 

Adam can hear him calling for backup, can even smell the fear suddenly coming off of him in waves. Adam clings to Derek, holding him tight.

“Leave him be. Don’t do anything stupid. Please. For me. And your pup,” he pleads breathlessly. For the pup that is currently making himself well known. 

A whimper falls from his lips and Derek tenses, his shoulder muscles bunching under Adam’s clenched fingers. 

He never imagined this is how it would go. He wanted an intimate, careful birth, in his nest with his mate. Not here on the living room floor, tears falling down his cheeks, the scent of fear nearly gagging him. 

Derek’s fingers tremble, just barely holding back his claws. 

“Just leave!” Adam screams. He might throw up if this goes on. 

Sirens blare in the distance and his heart lurches so hard he gags, his stomach clenching hard. Derek doesn’t move. Keeps himself planted between Adam and the officer. He will not let Adam suffer. 

Adam feels Derek shift, feels his muscles bunch as he turns to look at the officer. Fear spikes and Adam’s vision goes blurry, desperation leaking out of him in waves.

The officer, despite being an alpha, looks terrified. As he should. He’s threatened and antagonized an already helpless omega. If Derek really were feral, the officer would have already been ripped to shreds. 

Derek’s back straightens, his shoulders going wide, completely blocking Adam from view. The officer raises his gun again, his fingers trembling far too close to the trigger. 

“Leave.”

One word. One, forced word. Falling from Derek’s lips. 

The officer’s eyes go wide, the gun lowering slightly in shock. 

“But-but you’re supposed to be feral,” he stutters out pathetically. Adam wants to scream at him. 

“Not anymore,” Derek answers, his voice calm and lethal. The gun stays raised, but the officer’s grip wavers.

Derek growls low, threatening. “You have threatened me. You have threatened my mate. You must have a death wish.”

The officer shakes his head, taking a step back.

“Leave. Before I tear you to shreds for making my mate suffer.” 

There’s a new fear in the officer’s eyes now. That of realization. He’s no longer dealing with a feral, likely dangerous alpha who is unaware of his surroundings. No. He’s dealing with a very angry, very scary alpha of a pregnant omega, who would win in any court case for standing his ground. And he would be too easy a kill.

He takes another step back, the gun lowering again, and Adam feels his body react to the threat backing away. His back aches and his thighs tremble, the heavy weight in his stomach is moving lower. 

“Derek,” he whimpers. “The pup. He’s coming.”

Derek’s posture changes instantly, and the officer takes the sudden advantage to sprint away, leaving the door wide open. Derek only takes a moment to close it before scooping Adam into his arms and carrying him up the stairs. Back to the nest. Back to safety. 

Adam’s boxers are a mess of sweat and slick, his hole preparing for his pup’s arrival. 

“Just breathe,” Derek murmurs, stripping Adam of his clothing. He settles Adam into the nest and Adam’s whole body shudders, the fear leaving him clammy and shaky. 

“You’re okay,” Derek whispers, climbing into the nest with Adam, wrapping himself around Adam from behind, scenting him.

“He’s gone. You’re okay. We’re okay. Let’s meet our pup.”

Adam breaks then, a sob cutting through his chest, and Derek’s arms tighten around him, holding him closer. He continues to whisper soothing words, to scent and massage Adam’s throat and stomach. Adam finally feels safe, feels comfortable enough to push, and he feels his pup so close already. 

Derek soothes him, rubbing his hand over Adam’s back, and Adam struggles on his hands and knees as his pup slowly spreads him open, splitting him apart. Slick leaks out of him like a leaky faucet, but he continues to push.

He reaches between his legs, feeling the head full of hair stuck there, so close to coming out. 

“He’s there. Adam, our pup is right there. Come on, you can do this.”

If Adam wasn’t so focused on birthing his pup, he might have noticed how sure Derek is of his words now, without hesitation or a stutter. Like he was never feral.

Adam bares down, the stretch spreading even wider, the burn so hot and painful. Derek’s soothing words do nothing to take away the pain, but they still help. Immensely. 

Adam reaches for Derek’s hand, and he squeezes hard as he pushes once more, the feeling of his pup stretching him open, the slow, tortuous spread of his hole. He nearly cries from the pain until finally, his rim gives and his pup’s head pops out, leaving him gasping for air. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, his thighs aching. Derek is there, rubbing his back again, and as another contraction comes, he braces himself. He pushes again, and again and again, feeling his rim spread and tighten with every push, and after what feels like hours, he gives one last pained push…and then relief. 

He sobs at the release of pressure and he knows his pup is out. He looks back to Derek, expecting to see joy and elation on his face but he only sees worry.

“What is it?” Adam cries, struggling to move through the numbness in his legs. Derek is vigorously rubbing Theo’s back, patting him down but not a single sound escapes him. Adam stares, his stomach in his throat, the worst pain searing through his chest at the sight of his pup, limp in Derek’s large hands. 

“What’s wrong with him,” he begs, watching Derek grow more and more desperate. He pats and rubs and pats Theo’s back. A sob escapes Adam, his chest so tight he can hardly breathe. If that officer made this happen, an entire army couldn’t hold Adam back. He would get his revenge. 

Derek lets out a pained whine, his fingers trembling with their pup, so tiny despite being so heavy. Adam wants to die. Wants to fall to his knees and give in to the pain coursing through him. He’ll kill that officer, and then–

A shrill cry echoes through the room. A beautiful, incredible, perfect cry. And Adam breaks down. Derek’s own shoulders droop so heavily, so clearly relieved. 

He passes Theo over to Adam, and Adam struggles to hold back his sobs. 

“My baby. My pup. My sweet, beautiful Theo.” He keeps going, barely getting the words through the knot in his throat. Derek keeps quiet, but he doesn’t disappear. In fact, he shuffles closer, scenting the both of them so heavily the room reeks of it. And Adam, despite everything, despite the pain still coursing through him, feels a relief that nearly bowls him over. His mate, and his son. Both alive, and both perfectly amazing. He would never ask for anything ever again. 

**

Adam hums to himself softly, rocking back and forth with Theo in his arms, his beautiful pup milk drunk and fast asleep. Exhaustion clings to every inch of Adam’s body, but he’ll never trade the feeling for anything. Derek is sleeping on the bed, snoring softly. He stayed up all night with Theo so Adam could sleep, and it’s catching up to him now. 

This past month has been hectic for both of them. Derek was studied, poked, prodded, and paraded around on televisions about his ‘miraculous’ recovery from being feral. Adam was surprised at how well Derek handled everything, but given the end result was him being able to walk around in public again without hiding, he figured there was an ulterior motive to his submission. 

Now though, Derek is free. Well, mostly. He will always be on a feral watchlist, but it won’t tarnish his name or keep him from living life the way he wants to. And Adam thanks the gods that Derek wants to be here, to be with him, and Theo. 

Despite everything, despite what Adam learned of Derek’s past, things are working out for the better. Derek is happy, even if exhausted, and he’s well enough to hold a job, though he’s not exactly looking for one right now. They’re both rather enjoying their time alone, together in their house, out of the way of prying eyes. 

And Adam isn’t too ashamed to admit he’s been rather enjoying Derek’s insatiable appetite returning. They aren’t looking for another pup right now of course, but that doesn’t keep Derek from making Adam feel like a brand new man every single time they fuck. 

Even now, Adam can’t help but think about the delicious ways Derek’s tongue explored his body last night, the sinful ways in which Derek made love to him in the dark. Adam’s mouth starts to water as he remembers just how good it tasted when Derek filled his mouth and throat. The desperation he felt when Derek clamped his fingers into the back of his hair, the sinful pink flush over Derek’s body as he came, the way his stomach muscles rolled and twitched with every spurt of cum down Adam’s throat. 

Adam shakes his head, clearing his throat a little. If he isn’t careful, he’ll wake Theo and spoil all of Derek’s hard work to get him to sleep. 

Derek huffs on the bed, a low purr coming from his chest as he lifts his head, squinting over at Adam. 

“Everything ok?”

Adam just nods, too ashamed of his dirty mind to use his words just yet. 

Derek nods, dropping his head back to the pillow. 

“Are you hungry? It’s past time for lunch.”

Adam glances at the clock, surprised to see it’s already past noon. Theo isn’t exactly great at keeping to a schedule. 

“I could eat. Don’t do anything too crazy though. A sandwich is fine.”

Derek takes a deep breath before pushing himself up off the bed, his hair sticking out in so many different directions Adam can’t help but chuckle. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” he grumbles, getting up from the bed, his thin sleep pants doing nothing to hide his half hard cock. “I’ve looked worse.”

Adam snorts, thankful the sound doesn’t wake Theo. 

“You have definitely looked worse. Though I still think you look adorable.”

Derek gives him a fake laugh, his eyes bright and playful. Derek puts hand on the back of the rocking chair and Adam gladly accepts the offered kiss. 

“Whatever makes you happy,” he mumbles, placing one more kiss on Adam’s forehead. “Call if you need me. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Adam gives him a mock salute and Derek rolls his eyes, disappearing out the door. 

Adam likes this Derek. The playful, loving, doting mate. But he can’t help but miss the Derek from before. Not that he would ever want Derek to go feral again of course. He just…misses the animalistic way Derek cared for him, even if it was a little barbaric. Derek won’t admit it, but going back to normal has been hard on him, and he’s struggling to pretend that he’s ok.  

He’s had to suffer through his memories again, at least this time thankfully with help, and then he’s had to reconcile with the things he did while feral. Adam can see the pain in his eyes every now and then when he looks at Theo, the pain and guilt he feels for forcing himself onto Adam, on top of the pain he feels for the loss of his brother…it’s a lot. Adam can’t blame him. He’s not entirely sure he would have survived as long as Derek has. 

A small noise comes from Theo and Adam sighs, looking down at the tiny bundle of his pup. Theo’s eyes are fluttering, a sure sign he’s about to wake up. 

“Guess you’re right,” he mutters to himself. “Time to get up.”

Adam stands from the chair, groaning at the soreness in his lower back. Pregnancy had not been kind to his muscles. 

“At least you slept for a few hours this time. Maybe you’ll even sleep for Papa tonight.”

He only says it in hopes that it’ll come true. Derek needs a break too. 

Adam wanders into the kitchen, finding Derek plating a sandwich. Derek looks up as Adam walks in and gives him a smile. 

“He decided to get up finally?”

“Unfortunately,” Adam grumbles, sidling up to Derek. 

Derek chuckles and hands the plate to Adam. 

“This should cheer you up. Ham and Turkey, heavy on the mayo. Your favorite.”

“Oh, I love you so much.”

Derek’s cheeks flush slightly and Adam watches in awe. It’s not the first time he’s said that, but…

“I love you too,” Derek answers, looking down at Adam fondly. 

Adam has to force himself to breathe, so incredibly taken by the love and adoration written all over Derek’s face. They have a lot to work on, but maybe, just maybe, they can make this little life work. 

The End

Dennis is such a service sub. He wants to focus on the pleasure of his doms in any regard; sexual, task orientated, domestic chores. He just likes being helpful and good. His other doms took advantage of it and would constantly use him like a toy without any regard for his needs or pleasure.

The first time Robby and Jack get Dennis into their bed, they're not necessarily upset that he makes sure they both cum before he does. It's cute, really.

But then it keeps happening. They can barely get Dennis naked before he's sliding down on his knees trying to suck them off, laying out so perfectly so that they can use him.

"Den, sweetheart," Robby tries to pull him back up and the kid looks so rejected it hurts. "Hold on, baby, just one second. I want to get you off first."

Dennis blinks. "Why? You don't have to worry about me."

So now Robby is very worried. Jack gets Dennis to himself one night and runs into the same issue. He just wanted to make out with the boy, get a taste of him, but Dennis is trying to unbutton his pants and attempting to ride him and Jack tells him no and groans, covering his face with his hand when Dennis gives him those sad, dejected puppy eyes.

Clearly something is off. A line has been crossed or the concept of Dennis's pleasure has been rejected for so long that he doesn't even think about it.

And that just doesn't work for Robby and Jack. So they devise a plan; one month where Dennis is the focus of pleasure. He has to cum at least once a day for both of them, if not more. He's not allowed to try and get them off.

"A whole month?" he whines when they inform him and Robby can't stop himself from reaching out and squishing his cheeks together, cuteness aggression winning out within seconds.

"It's for your health, baby," Jack chides lightly. "You need to be learn how to take pleasure without thinking it has to be returned."

It's so...humiliating? Arousing? Confusing? To be the one naked and open for his Doms who remain fully clothed while they play with him. Again, certified munchers. Poor Dennis gets beard burn from Robby burying his face in between his thighs, he mentions it once and Robby just flips him around the next night, eating it from the back, which Dennis can't decide is worse because he feels infinitely more slutty that way but it also feels infinitely better.

If he's good, and gets through the first orgasm without fuss, they'll fuck him. If he fights it, if he tries to get them naked first?

ack holding him down, keeping him spread open for Robby who alternates between kissing and sucking and fingering their boy. He's sobbing and twitching beneath the touches, pleading "Sorry, 'm sorry daddy, please, I'll be good, can't do anymore, please, Sir, 's too much, please-"

It's right on the edge of free use. Actually, it just is free use because Jack likes to make sure that the first thing Dennis does in the morning while he's waiting for the coffee to be done is grip the edge of the counter as Jack slides his fingers in and out of his already dripping cunt, curling it just right, making Dennis's legs shake as Jack coaxes that first orgasm of the day out of him.

Robby wants it to be the last motion of the day. He loves how Dennis gets so pliant and warm, a gentle pinkness to his cheeks after he's been pushed over the edge. He loves that Dennis tries to hide himself in Robby's chest, curled up around him after, sometimes still trembling from the power of an orgasm, needing his Daddy to hold him steady, tightly, as he drifts off.

But somewhere as the days pass, Dennis doesn't need to be held down. He starts correcting them, twisting Robby's head a different way, fixing Jack's angle of his cock, pausing them because wait, not there, there, that's where i want it.

The day that Dennis snaps out a fuck me like you mean it, Jack and Robby share a look of pure delight. They made a brat. Right in their bed and now they have a whiny, pushy, bratty Dennis to play with.

It has been months since that first fateful encounter. You'd walked away from that experience unharmed (outside of a few scrapes and bruises, thank the gods), your body purring and an ache still lingering between your legs. But you'd also walked away with something else, too, something you hadn't noticed right away, and certainly hadn't expected. Your belly, once flat and firm, is now swollen with the fruit of that night—though no one in the village suspects that your womb holds anything but the consequence of a human indiscretion.

Today was supposed to be just another trip to the forest to chop wood. Despite the advancing state of your pregnancy, you're not about to depend on others to take care of you. You still work your small farm, still bring down game and tan their hides for leather, still maintain your homestead… even with a monster's litter squirming in your womb, making everything twice as difficult. As if in defiance of that infuriating, distracting, entirely too-fuckable creature, who'd slaked your lust yet left you parched for more.

You'd been venting your frustrations on a growing pile of deadwood, hacking and splitting branches into smaller pieces, working up a sweat. Then, like a phantom borne from the depths of your most private thoughts, the wolf appeared.

It started with a familiar tickle at the back of your neck, the inkling that something stared after you, unseen. Then came the rustle of leaves, the cracking of twigs, the sounds of a predator stalking without much care for stealth. A predator that didn't care if it was caught.

You turned to toss another small log on the pile and spotted the werewolf crouched at the edge of the clearing, its coarse fur shining in the sunlight. Its nostrils flared to catch your scent, just before its intense gaze dropped to lock on your torso.

You usually keep the large, rounded mass of your pregnancy concealed beneath a loose tunic, but out here, deep in this hushed, imposing forest, you'd stripped yourself bare to the waist while you worked. There was nothing to block the wolf's widening eyes from sliding over the subtle curves of your chest, the soft flare of your hips, and especially the exaggerated roundness of your expectant belly.

Refusing to be shamed or intimidated, you snarked.

It lunged.

You struck.

And now it lies under you, its massive chest heaving, heat radiating off its fur, its throat bobbing against a finely-honed blade for a second time. The tension between you is drawn just as taut, just as sexually charged, as it has ever been, dominance teetering on a precipice of hostility and hunger. You probably shouldn't have bested the wolf the first time, and you certainly shouldn't have now, not with your center of gravity all messed up, but you did.

Why did the beast let you win? And why does winning please you so?

The wolf's eyes flicker down your body, that gilded gaze lingering almost awestruck on your large, swollen abdomen. It lets out a soft, huffing whine, something twitching against the underside of your belly, and you suddenly realize what's happening.

Its cock, thick and already hardening, is pressing against you.

"Oh, so that's how it is," you say, letting your voice drop somewhere low and dangerous. Your emotions have been all over the place ever since you'd let this creature pump you full of its pups, and it's about time that it got to experience the full brunt of them. How dare it tease you with the best fuck of your life only to leave you bereft? How dare it disappear after a single tryst, only to show up mere weeks before you expect to whelp? How dare it be here now, throwing itself before you like a feast before a starving man?

You should be furious. Instead, a tendril of desire curls to life in your core, a dying ember fanned suddenly to life.

"You did this to me," you hiss, pushing the hatchet even harder against the wolf's throat. "And then you disappeared. I looked for you, you great bloody beast. Now you think you can just stroll right back and take whatever you want? Again?"

The wolf's lip curls, revealing a maw full of razor-sharp teeth, and its body tenses all at once—then it twists, bucking you upward with a violent heave. The hatchet falls from your hand, and you have just enough time to duck as its wide jaw snaps shut where your face used to be.

You roll to the side, your momentum sending you tumbling through leaves and loam, the pair of you a jumble of raw strength and wild noise. Wickedly sharp claws rake at your side, but only hard enough to leave welts—like its owner is reminding you of what it can do, rather than attacking with the intent to maim. You retaliate with an elbow to its ribs, a blow that lands solid and earns you a shocked whuff. That gives you just enough of a window to grab a fistful of fur at its scruff, and you twist, wrenching the creature's head sideways.

"You damned mongrel," you growl, shaking the wolf like an insolent pup. "I'm not just some bitch who'll roll over and let you mount me."

For a second, those luminous eyes alight with something akin to delight, just before the wolf throws itself back into the fray, twisting and snapping, hot breath washing over your cheek. You throw your increasingly ungainly weight aside, ignoring the discomfort in your lower back, and both of you continue to crash through the detritus in a tangle of muscle, fur, and rage.

But still, at no point do those wicked teeth or claws come near your gravid middle with any intent to harm. Once, the wolf manages to get a paw against your belly and shoves, but without much force, as if even in the midst of this fevered scuffle it knows better than to strike at your gravid abdomen.

That thought shouldn't please you as much as it does.

You should be scared out of your mind, honestly, locked in a brawl with such a deadly creature, but a heady cocktail of adrenaline and hormones pours through you in a frenzied rush. Sweat and grit stain your bare skin, glowing from both your pregnancy and the heat of the battle. You're caught in a wild, persistent match, wondering who will yield first, who will expose their soft belly and throat in a show of impossible trust, yet your trousers are absolutely soaked with the evidence of the need this inspires.

Things devolve to the point where you're not sure if you're fighting or fucking anymore, but frankly, you don't care. Something about the way the wolf's claws skim your skin in the midst of your struggle is primal yet careful, almost reverent, only threatening when they could so easily shred your flesh. Its cock, fully out now, juts slick and red between its powerful legs, leaving streaks along your thigh. You're too furious, too hungry, to care that the wolf can see how much you desire it, can smell it, can probably feel the slickness soaking through the fabric when it presses too close.

The bastard should know what it's done to you.

Its next assault leaves you scrabbling for purchase, feeling the sharp prickle of brambles at your back. A ragged, almost animal gasp tears from your throat when the wolf finally pins you, forearm to your chest, claws dimpling the flesh just above your pounding heart but not breaking the skin. You snarl up at it, refusing to flinch, even as the weight of its body presses your back into the damp earth and threatens to coax surrender from your bones. The wolf hovers above, its teeth bared in a victorious grin, the thick press of its unsheathed cock hot and insistent where it nudges the underside of your pregnancy, but the savage side of you refuses to let the beast taste triumph.

It's too busy savoring its victory to notice your fingers curling around the haft of your hatchet.

The wolf's eyes widen in an exhilarating blend of excitement and outrage as you hook your leg, expectant middle shifting with surprising agility as you twist your hips, and sweep its paws out from under it in a move born of years spent wrestling siblings twice your size. It's on its back again before it has a chance to retaliate, the edge of the blade held just shy of that vulnerable spot under its jaw. The werewolf freezes, its whole body going rigid beneath your straddling hips. Your belly rests squarely over its torso, a hulking, pendulous orb that's a stark contrast to the wolf's own.

There's a beat of silence (the first since this frenzied dance began) broken only by the agitated gasps that wrack your lungs. The wolf's tongue lolls from its open mouth, panting raggedly as it waits for your next move.

You can't help yourself. The second you've caught your breath, you're grinding down until you can feel its shaft slide along the wet, shrouded seam of your opening.

Oh.

A shiver ripples through your body as you do it again. And again. Each pass of that hard length against you leaves your eyelids fluttering in pure, unadulterated pleasure, the kind you haven't felt since the last time you'd subjugated the werewolf like this. "Hells," you whisper to yourself, rocking over the werewolf's erection like it might simply breach the barrier of your trousers with enough insistence.

You almost don't notice its claws creeping their way toward your waist, but the moment they tentatively curl over your hips, your eyes snap back into focus.

"You're not in control here," you say, hoping that the firmness of your voice isn't belied by your obvious arousal. "I am. So if you wanna do this again, you're gonna have to do what I say, and take whatever I decide to give you."

Claws drop away from you to flex futilely against the ground. The wolf's ears flatten and its breath hitches, but its body doesn't resist—if anything, its pupils dilate further in lustful anticipation. There's a thrilling power in seeing it, a force of magically twisted nature, something that should have eaten you alive, instead shuddering beneath the weight of your will and body.

The instant its muscles go slack beneath you, your hips resume their deliberate dance.

It's been far too long since you last felt the werewolf's magnificent length pressed against you, or a cock of any kind, for that matter. Though every part of you aches to impale yourself on it immediately, to feel it stretch you open and fill your aching emptiness, you want to make this encounter last.

So you move with unhurried zeal, letting your weight settle and grinding down until that velvet heat is pressed exactly where you want it, the length of the wolf's shaft trapped and throbbing between your slick body and the battered fabric of your trousers. The pressure is exquisite, your aroused glans swollen and desperate for friction; each pass of the wolf's dribbling cock along it spears through the fading adrenaline haze of battle to draw a ragged gasp from your lips.

Sweat beads along your brow, and you toss your head, strands of mussed hair clinging to your temples and neck. Your body moves with raw desperation, all pretense abandoned as you work your hips over the beast beneath you in search of your own release. Why shouldn't you be selfish, after it'd left you high and dry with its unexpected litter? You chase the friction, the pressure, until your legs quiver and threaten to give out entirely.

The hatchet is all but forgotten where it lies against the creature's throat, little more than a weight to remind the wolf of your tentative pact. Instead, you brace your hands on the wolf's chest and sink your fingers into its thick pelt, clutching at the fur to keep your ponderous form balanced while you start to frot. Each grind paints a sticky trail along the inner seam of your trousers, the wetness of your need and its slippery precome mingling and soaking into the rough fabric.

Yet through it all, you never break eye contact, not for a second—meeting the wolf's gaze as though to dare it to break your accord. The beast merely watches, mesmerized, as you rut yourself on it, claiming it, conquering it, using it for your own pleasure.

"Who's a good boy?" you mockingly croon, your hips bucking and jerking as you drive your passion higher. "Too bad you vanished the last time I gave you a little 'treat'. Not sure…"

Your eyes roll back in your head, the next lurch of your hips bringing you almost to the edge.

"Mmhm, not sure you deserve—"

You can't even finish your taunt. You grind down hard, the werewolf's cock sliding along the veiled furrow of your opening and catching against you just right. Every surge of pleasure feels heightened by each movement of the great, bulging mass of your womb, the extra weight sending waves of pleasure through you in a deeper, more intense way than it used to. Anticipation builds like a rising tide, muscles clenching and spasming in that exquisite moment just before the wave crests, leaving you straining to keep yourself upright while the wolf's brawny form writhes beneath you.

Release claims you in a sudden rush, a flood of white-hot sensation that lights up your body from your swollen, sensitive nipples all the way down to the soles of your calloused feet. A guttural, almost feral sound wrenches itself from your throat. The noise carries through the silent trees as your thighs clamp down on either side of the wolf's torso and threaten to crush it. Even your rounded belly responds to your orgasm, visibly tightening from the intensity of your climax.

Reality crawls back to you in bits and pieces, and you return to find your body still astride the wolf, gasping and quivering like a plucked bowstring. Pleasure continues to ripple outward from between your legs, slickness oozing through your clothes to drench the hot, rigid length still pressed between them.

Unsurprisingly, your lower back takes this moment to butt in and protest all of the recent exertion, and you instinctively cradle the heavy swell of your abdomen to offset its weight. It's while your fingers are stroking over the sweat-slick surface that you sense the movement—tiny limbs shifting and tumbling just under the surface, like your unexpected litter senses their sire's presence and stirs with recognition.

You push that thought away before it has the chance to take root.

The thunder of your pulse gradually quiets, and it's then that you become aware that the wolf is still pinned beneath you, motionless save for the sharp rise and fall of each desperate breath. Its cock is harder than ever, deep red and turgid, the pointed head leaking a steady drip of seed against your ruined trousers. The creature's golden eyes are wide, almost plaintive, and now that the haze of climax is fading, you can see the keen tension in its body—how it holds itself taut, as if restraining the animal urge to flip you and rut until you both break.

Your own desire crashes back into you then, relentless, unsatisfied, amplified by the animal need radiating up from your monstrous lover. You stare down at the werewolf, the ache that tugs at you more than just the weight of your pregnancy. Jerking off against the wolf wasn't enough; you're starved for something else, something to fill you up and stretch you out in the way you've been craving for months.

You need that damned knot.

So instead of doing the smart thing and bringing this bizarre encounter to a close, you lean forward, the scent of your sweat mingling with the wild musk rising from the wolf's hide. Even now, with your thighs caging it and your belly crowding the space between, the creature radiates a strength that could turn the tables in an instant. But some ineffable instinct tells you that it won't.

"Look at you," you murmur, your breathless voice sticky-sweet and dripping with scorn. "You could have torn me to shreds, but you're just a pathetic lump of fur with blue balls, desperate for a bitch who doesn't give a damn if you get off or not." The beast's ears flatten, but it doesn't make a sound. Instead, it shudders beneath you, seemingly caught on the intoxicating edge between the need to rut and melting under your potent humiliation. You drag the flat of your palm across its broad, furred chest, and let your words sink in like claws of your own. "Some predator you are. You're all bark and no bite, aren't you, pup?"

The cock wedged between your thighs twitches.

Fuck. Teasing the wolf is all well and good, but it's doing nothing to fill the void that's been crying out for a thick knot since the creature first knocked you up.

You want it so badly your hands shake as you shift to paw at your ruined trousers, but they're bunched and tangled at the crotch, soaked and stubbornly refusing to rip open the last few inches. Hells, you can barely reach the cords beneath the dome of your belly when you're not all riled up. There's no way you're getting free of them without standing up and giving the wolf a chance to retake control, however arbitrary that control may be.

"Dammit," you growl, your frustration mounting with every second your hole remains empty. You glare down at the werewolf, at the hunger and need plain in its eyes, and know you're both caught in the same impossible trap. "You want this so bad? Then rip the seam open—carefully."

At first, the beast hesitates and grows tense, its gilded gaze flicking up to your face then down to the bulge of your belly. For a moment, you wonder if it'll refuse to obey, or even try to regain the upper hand. But with a low, throaty rumble, the wolf eventually slides a hand toward your crotch. A single, razor-sharp claw catches the sopping seam between your legs and slices it clean through, thread popping and fabric yielding like butter under a hot knife.

You stare the wolf down all the while, this silent show of trust and obedience sending a fresh surge of want straight through your heated core. You swallow, your chin jerking in a faint nod. "Now, move those scraps out of the way and put that cock where it belongs."

The wolf huffs, an almost human sound, and with deliberate care works its claws under the torn edges of your trousers to peel them away. The fabric pulls tight, then parts, letting cool air ghost over your pulsing, dripping center, leaving you fully exposed to the wolf's unblinking gaze. Its nostrils flare, greedily drawing in your scent, and the beast shudders as if the smell alone is enough to unravel it.

Its claws retreat, replaced by the broad, rough pads of its hands, which bracket your hips and lift you—just enough to align the reddened, drooling tip of its cock with the slick rim of your hole. Every line of its body is strained, as if the wolf is holding back some immense, coiled force, but it doesn't move an inch except as guided.

"Good boy," you purr, almost indulgently. "Just—just like… mmhmm." You hover for a heartbeat, knees wide, belly cumbersome, letting the tip of the shaft kiss the place where you need it most, before finally sinking down.

The first blunt nudge nearly makes you sob in relief. Your hole is so puffy and eager that the head pops inside with barely any resistance, yielding instantly to the pressure. The beast is thicker than you remember, but deliciously so, the stretch a pleasant sort of burn as your body swallows it deeper.

Some deep, hidden part of you cries out in what can only be rapture. Finally, finally, you have what you've been missing. You're complete. And you'll relish every moment you can cling to this before it's torn away again.

So you drop your weight, making sure the werewolf can feel every inch of your slick, throbbing channel as you clench around its cock. Reminding it of what it gave up. "Bet you missed this hole," you whisper hoarsely, seizing the wolf's jaw in your hand and squeezing until its tongue lolls free. "Bet you spent the last eight months jerking off at the memory of how good I fucked you, how much you loved giving up control to a paltry human." Your thumb traces the black, shining lip of its snout. "Admit it. You're my bitch."

The wolf doesn't fight the accusation, nor does it shy away from your grip. It simply stares up at you, a heat in its eyes that's as much challenge as submission. There's an obvious threat of violence humming just under its hide, yet it lies still, utterly conquered and loving it. If it wanted, the werewolf could flip you, pound you into the loam, breed you again until your insides were nothing but its pups and seed. But all it does is whine, eyes fluttering with something both defiant and needy, as you mercilessly objectify it and ride it into the dirt.

With each rocking motion, your belly wobbles over the wolf's heaving torso, impossibly full of the offspring you created together, your arousal spiking at the sight of this once-terrifying beast reduced to a whining, compliant mount. The edge of your teeth digs into your lower lip as you take another inch of its cock, then another, your body rippling around the intrusion with greedy delight.

"All that strength, all those wicked teeth, and you'd rather lie there and let me use you. How pitiful can you be?"

The werewolf's hips begin to move in time with yours, its cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. Part of you wants to snap at it, to make the wolf go still again so you can treat it as nothing more than a toy, but the extra movement is rubbing up against something divine that makes you keen with delight. You can feel the base of your monstrous lover's shaft swelling, its knot ballooning in anticipation of the coming finish, and that knowledge only spurs you on.

"This is what you hoped for, isn't it, mutt?" Your hips move in frantic circles while you soak the wolf's fur with your juices. "You wanted to feel your pups kick while I rode you into the ground."

The claws at your hips suddenly clutch tighter, not with a need to control but with a stabilizing tension, anchoring you to the shuddering, panting form beneath. A few months ago, you'd probably have slapped those hands away, but now it's a welcome aid to steady your unwieldy form. The werewolf's restraint is palpable, every muscle stiff as it lets you lead, lets you bear down on its thick, pulsing shaft, lets you use it as you please.

The awareness leaves you ravenous.

Your back arches, both to accommodate your distended belly and so you can lever yourself ruthlessly onto the wolf's cock, taking it deeper, letting the ache in your thighs and the squelch of your own arousal drive you closer to the brink. Each time you drop your full weight in this brutal rhythm, you can feel the way the wolf's knot continues to swell, threatening to breach you entirely. Every thrust brings you closer to the moment when it will plug up your greedy, clutching passageway and lock inside, leaving you truly, savagely, full.

So close. So godsdamned close.

"Inside," you snarl, gyrating with increasingly mindless voracity. "Knot me, you needy little hound. I want it. I want it so fucking bad—"

The wolf's ears flick, its breath coming in harsh, fevered pants, and then it obeys. Haunches flexing, muzzle splitting in a near-silent growl, the creature rolls its hips and drives upward with a force that almost knocks you off your perch. The fattening bulb of its knot, engorged and searing hot, punches relentlessly at your opening until something inside of you ultimately gives.

You bare your teeth and cry out, unable to keep up even the pretense of composure, as that inflated knob finally forces its way in.

There's a snarling howl, then you feel the throbbing of the wolf's shaft and a torrent of what can only be seed pouring into your body.

So full.

Your vision whites out at the edges, until all you're left with is pulsing, blissful ecstasy.

When you finally come back to yourself, you're slumped on your side in the dry leaves, cheek pressed into the warm, surprisingly comforting fur of the wolf's neck. You're shuddering, every nerve ending ablaze, with one of your legs slung across the wolf's waist. Your hole is stretched wide, still locked around the throbbing mass of the beast's knot, each weak twitch sending aftershocks while you clench and spasm.

Neither of you speaks, not even when you notice the paw splayed across the surface of your belly, heaving with each breath, tight and sore from all of the recent jostling. And that's fine, of course. It isn't like this is anything other than a random… thing.

Time passes. The knot eventually deflates, releasing the pressure and fluid it had kept locked within.

But rather than immediately taking leave of one another, you find yourself gathered close. The wolf curls around your exhausted body from behind, enveloping you in radiating heat, and you find yourself burrowing closer before you think to question why. An arm, massive and shaggy, remains slung over your middle, claws spread wide and protective—almost venerating in their unexpected gentleness. The strength that you once ground beneath your heel now forms a cocoon to shelter your fertile, well-fucked body.

You're not sure when you last felt so completely and utterly satisfied, now that you think about it.

You ought to be angry (at the wolf, at yourself, at the universe for setting you up like this yet again), but right now, you're too spent to feel much of anything besides tired. Maybe later, once your body stops thrumming in the afterglow and your hole stops leaking, you'll let the indignation surface. Give the damned werewolf a piece of your mind, and a good scolding for all its months of silence and the way it has rutted you to ruin.

For the moment, you're content to let your mind drift on a current of blissful exhaustion, your skin flushed and sticky, listening to the slow, steady breathing of the monster curled up at your side, while a litter of werewolf pups squirms within your womb.

You'll worry about reclaiming your dignity—and your hatchet—later.