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A Craving for the Monsters

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Will Graham liked being choked. Not in a general sense: but here, now. Hannibal pinning him to the bed, tentacles slithering like silk around his neck. Like a bow, Will thought with a wheezy laugh.

In the shadows of the bedroom, through the blood beating in his head, he could see antlers, feathered wings, the crescents of raven-like talons, and the glisten of scales. He ached, he hungered. He writhed, gripping at the tentacles looping his neck, only to have another pair spread his thighs. He moaned softly.

Will loved feeling his legs forced open, Hannibal’s tendrils unbuckling his belt and then teasing the hem of his pants before undoing them. Will felt a warm, wet protuberance slide down his boxer briefs and then slither across his slit.

“Will,” Hannibal murmured, voice like the thousand echoes of bone shattering. “So wet.”

“Breed me,” Will gasped even as the tentacles around his throat tightened.

A pause and then the tentacles slackened, withdrew. Will sat up, coughing, pants undone, vision speckling dark and bright, head throbbing. The wings and tentacles and claws vanished and instead there was Hannibal in his perfectly accoutred human guise, clothed and sitting neatly on the edge of the bed.

Fuck. He had ruined everything.

“I didn’t expect our first date to be so . . . intimate,” Hannibal said. “Unless that was just bedroom talk.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Will croaked.

He felt loose, porous, ready to receive.

“I want to be bred, Hannibal. I want to be bred by you . Have been for months.”

Hannibal gazed at Will.

“Is that why you lowered your testosterone dosage?”

“Yes. So I would menstruate.”

“I smelled the change.”

“I was counting on it.”


“I guess I’ll go,” Will began redoing his pants.

He’d been hoping that Hannibal wanted to breed too. But apparently he didn’t.

Hannibal placed a hand on his stomach. It undulated and became taloned.

“I’ve wanted a mate to breed with,” Hannibal said carefully. “And you are ripe.”

The way he said “ripe” in that echoing voice made Will tremble with pleasure.

“So fuck me and fill me with your spawn,” Will said.

Hannibal made a pleased noise, a rumbling pur. And then shifted, like a shadow retreating on a summer’s day, revealing in the dark the outline of what he truly was.

Talons tore Will out of his clothes, including his boxer briefs and binder. They just grazed his skin, leaving not a mark. Will shuddered as the ribbons of his clothes fell, exposing him. Hannibal clambered onto the bed, his monstrous bulk hovering over him.

It was quite gentle by contrast to their earlier roughness: the feel of scales and talons against his own tender flesh. Hannibal’s pronged tongue ticklish against Will’s throat and breasts and belly. Will let his legs loosen, splaying wide, straining to cradle Hannibal. He shivered with delight as he touched the soft feathers and rippling muscles of Hannibal’s shoulders.

Then tendrils began to stroke his slit. Will felt them pulling him open, his cunt a gaping hole to be used. He arched into his monster as another tendril entered him, curling inside. The movements made him moan and he clutched Hannibal. But Hannibal shifted, sitting back on his heels. Another set of tendrils found his asshole and spread him there, and yet another one, slick and slippery, slid inside. And tentacles, tentacles wove around his arms and thighs, pinning him.

Will groaned.

“Yes, oh yes.”

“You like this.”

It was a statement of fact, but Will also heard some wonder in Hannibal’s voluminous voice.

“Breed me,” Will said. “Fill me with your cum.”

He couldn’t quite believe he was being so transparent, except that he wanted this so badly he tasted blood in the back of his throat.

He had wanted it since he was sixteen, still living as female, and found out his neighbor was like Hannibal. Had let that neighbor ride him until he was raw and panting and awash in cum. And ever since then Will had had a craving for the monsters.

He looked at Hannibal and needed. His need overrode his dysphoria, his transition, and passing. He didn’t care if their offspring came out misshapen, strange and eerie, half human, half monster. He cared for the grab and grind of a supernatural body against his, of feeling little spawnlings push against his insides as they grew.

Hannibal smiled again.

“I will fill you with my seed,” he murmured.

Tendrils stroked Will’s body. Will arced into the whisper of touch.

“Feel my breasts,” he said.

The tendrils curled against his breasts, rolling and then sucking on Will’s nipples, which sent a pleasant hum through his body. Then they began to wrap around Will’s breasts and squeeze. Will moaned, the pleasure gathering white and wet between his thighs.

A thick tentacle pressed into Will’s mouth and began thrusting in and out. Will hummed around it’s veiny girth, leaking a taste like damp caverns and velvet darkness. The tendrils retracted from his ass. He could feel what must be another tentacle: hot, thrumming, broad. It was saturated with some liquid and rubbed his entrance. Will would have spread his legs wider if he could move, and he would have exhaled if he was not happily taking a tentacle in his mouth, so that he could loosen. But the tentacle at his asshole pushed in and began thrusting with vigor, so wet the peculiar grainy feeling of anal sex was lost to a slick heat. Will moaned around the tentacle in his mouth.

The tendrils withdrew from his cunt and Will murmured around the tentacle fill me, fill me . A wedge, fat and dripping and ridged, ran its length over him, teasing him until Will bucked against his restraints. Slowly it sank in, and it felt like he had been deliciously cleaved in two. The cock, Hannibal’s cock, was so thick, stretching the edges of his cunt. Hannibal sighed when he was fully in, and then began to move in time with his tentacles and the tendrils still at Will’s breasts. That wide cock jamming into him, with the rough wave of ridges, made Will mouth more more more.

A tendril wrapped around his cock and began jerking him in time to the thrusts, sending jolts up his spine. He came, drenched in a wave of red, Hannibal still penetrating him in three places. His whole body felt like it would rupture and he didn’t care, he just needed more of this, more of Hannibal, more --

Hannibal came thrice-fold, first with a spasm in Will’s mouth, then his ass, and finally flooding his cunt. Blue-black cum dribbled from his mouth, out of his asshole, and down this thighs. At last the tentacles uncoiled from around his arms and legs. But Will couldn’t breathe, or move. Just feel his distended womb, full of Hannibal’s cum.

He wiped the tears of happiness from his eyes while Hannibal turned away. Hannibal shifted back into his disguise, antlers vanishing, wings folding, talons receding, scales ebbing. He was dressed, smelling like fine cologne and aftershave, and seemed docile, unthreatening. Almost.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Will said in a shaky voice.

Hannibal put his hand over the one Will had placed on his swollen belly. They were silent together, looking at one another.