Stiles didn't know how long he was out. There was a blindfold over his eyes, and he was strapped down tightly to a chair. His mouth was free of a gag, surprisingly, but he thought it was a bad idea to shout for help at the moment, seeing as he was pretty sure he was naked. There was a damp smell hanging in the air, like old soda had been spilled and never cleaned up. He could see light coming from his right, but he couldn't tell if it was daytime or just some sort of light source on the inside.
There was movement off to his left, sounding like someone was walking passed the room, two men talking in low voices. A heavy, rusty-sounding door swung open, and the thud of their footsteps surrounded him. He tried to feign sleep, staying loose and limp, but it didn't do any good. A strong hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. "Hello, darling."
Stiles spluttered. "Peter?!" He rattled the chair with all his might, but Peter's hold kept him from tipping over. "What's going on? Let me out of here."
Peter chuckled. "Not yet, sweetheart," he said, his hand sliding along the back of his shoulders. There were more footsteps happening around him, and Stiles was past the point of asking Peter for help. It was obvious that he had something nefarious up his sleeve, and he couldn't be trusted. "You're here for a little bit of... readjustment. I need you here for the moment, and my friend over there," he paused as if Stiles could see something, or where he was pointing, "Is going to keep you nice and occupied."
Stiles rolled his eyes, even if it only served to satisfy his sense of indignation. The other man was coming closer. Cold, smooth hands started moving along his chest. Peter stepped away, presumably to let the other man work. He had nothing to work off of, he needed more information. "Really, Peter? Is this necessary? I'm fucking naked for Christ sake!"
"It's very necessary," Peter assured. "I don't want you getting caught in the crosshairs. When the smoke clears, I hope it'll just be you, me and my friend here."
Stiles swung his head over to where he approximated the other guy was. "And you're okay with this? What's in it for you?"
"Oh no, no, no, Stiles," Peter said from a distance. "You aren't getting out of this with your quick tongue. Once everything settles, I think you'll really like your new place in the pecking order."
"If you fucking touch anyone, when I get out of this-"
"Yes, yes, you'll do all sorts of awful things to me and kill me, tell me something I don't know." The door opened and slammed shut, leaving him alone with this stranger.
He didn't make a sound as he moved about the room. He was placing things on Stiles' chest, strapping something circular right over his nipples, tightening it around his back. Some mechanics started whirring to life. The man gripped his jaw, forcing him to keep his mouth open as something was forced inside, a gag with a tube going all the way to the back of his throat. He coughed as the man released him, trying to push the thing out with his tongue, but it was too wide once it was in. It was a solid mass and the tube wasn't very flexible, there was no way he was getting it out until he had use of his hands.
The man left him alone for a moment, but then he was back, pouring something that smelled like organic milk down the pipe. Stiles had no choice but to swallow. At least if he got it down fast enough, he wouldn't have to taste it. It left a tacky film at the back of his throat, and there was nothing he could do to get rid of it.
Just as the last of it was gone, there was a click off to his left, and the whirring increased. The things on his chest started to pull, like they were a vacuum. He jerked forward trying to alleviate the strange sensation, it felt like someone was pinching his nipples. The suction got harder and harder, like they were trying to tear away at his skin. When he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, the power decreased, until it was only a slight tug, but then it started all over again.
The man stood behind him, pulling at his shoulders until he was straight against the chair again. His hands lingered, this thumb rubbing against the sensitive skin on his collar bone. Stiles tried to shake him off, not wanting any reason to like this guy, but he held firm.
Stiles sighed and chose to focus on that instead, it was much better than thinking about the uncomfortable... whatever it was, happening on his chest.
Peter twirled the keys around his finger as he walked down the dark hallway of the factory. Deaton had been very busy this past week making the place more habitable: taking out the old metal working machines, having people install lighting and fixing broken windows. He had obviously taken care of the back offices, where their new charge was.
Back when he had brought Deaton to Talia, saying they met in college, she had taken to him with open arms. The only stipulation of him being their Emissary that he had taken issue with was that he couldn't continue his home business. Peter, on the other hand, had no qualms with the supernatural creatures Deaton liked to keep around. It was something he could handle, especially with how close of an eye he planned on giving it.
The issue that presented itself today was Stiles. Stiles, who was fiercely loyal to the wrong people, was the only thing that Peter was willing to keep when he finished with this hostile takeover. He was such a beautiful creature, full of bright intelligence and snark. Even if he was just a Spark, he wouldn't be a threat, but he had a cunning that could match his own, and he couldn't just let that be. He decided to kill two birds with one stone. After all, the new animals would need something to feed on, why not make Stiles the trough?
What Stiles needed, was something to crave that Peter could provide. Right now, what he wanted more than anything was the validation from his friends. Peter was hoping he could replace it with something more carnal.
As he got closer to the back, he could hear the sounds of the process taking place: the soft whirring of machines dying down. He opened the door to see that the boy was alone. Stiles didn't seem surprised to be walked in on, and didn't try to engage him. Deaton had been insistent that he not be identifiable until the whole ordeal was over. Stiles was obviously aware of his presence, but couldn't tell who he was because of the blindfold. The mattress they had put in the corner was all roughed up from use, and he was glad to see that Stiles was clean, clear signs that Deaton had been taking care of him despite how busy he was.
The boy’s arms had been moved to behind his back, presumably to keep them out of the way. There were two clear suction cups strapped to his chest, and they were going to town. His nipples were puffy, noticeably swollen, and no doubt sensitive. The small black box next to him was revving back up, pulling the skin taut under the unyielding plastic. Stiles arched his back toward it, his voice rising loud and clear, a scream filled with confusing emotions, like he didn't know whether he was in pain or rolling in pleasure.
Peter was perfectly happy just watching. He saw, after tearing his eyes away from the lovely sight of his chest, that there was another line running from the machine. It ran out of sight behind Stiles, so Peter slowly moved around the room, taking in the boy's heaving chest, his skin on display, shiny with a little bit of sweat. The chair he was strapped to only supported his shoulders, and the rest of his back was exposed. The wire ran down his spine and disappeared into his ass. His thighs were quivering sporadically, and his body seemed to be rolling into the motions like his hips were grinding down on something.
He reached over to the machine and switched it off. Stiles made a confused sound as he relaxed into his seat. Peter moved the suction cups down and out of his way, and started working those cute little buds, twirling his fingers around them lightly. Stiles' breath stuttered, turning his face halfway, as if doing so would give him a better look. The dark leather really did compliment his pale skin and reddened lips. "P-Peter?"
"There's my smart boy," he cooed in the boy's ear. "How has my friend been treating you?" he pinched the right nipple gently, pulling it into a peek as Stiles moaned.
"Please," he whined, pushing into the touch despite himself. "Stop this, I..." He cut off in a moan as Peter played with the other. "I can't take this."
"You can, you're strong like that," Peter said. "You can handle this, besides." He moved one of his hands lower, trailing it along the hairs on the boy's stomach. He reached that wonderfully flushed cock, standing out and away from Stiles' body, jumping as his muscles flexed. All it took was one stroke upwards with his finger, making it come with that single touch. Stiles convulsed in his restraints, letting out a sound that resembled a sob as come coated his stomach. He collapsed back, his head resting on Peter as he tried to catch his breath.
Peter made a sympathetic hum. "You were holding that in for quite a while, weren't you?" he said, pitching his voice low. "Tell me, was it that nice comfy vibrator working away at you, or was it me playing with these beautiful little nipples?" Stiles didn't give an indication either way.
Peter chuckled as he straightened up. He could hear familiar footsteps coming up the hallway. Deaton poked his head inside, taking in the sight, and realizing what Peter was doing. Peter gave him a winning smile. "This seems to be coming along well," he said, patting the side of Stiles' face. "Everything is running its course on my end. We should be good to go in another week."
Deaton simply nodded. He moved about the room, reaching out to the stand that was holding the machine and taking out a jug of the potion he was using. It was a nice lavender color, but it smelled awful. Peter couldn’t understand how something made out of succubus milk could be so foul. Stiles obviously could smell it as well, but he leaned forward all the same, probably because this was the only thing he had been allowed to eat in a week. Deaton tilted the jug gently and Stiles swallowed without hesitation. He even licked his lips when he was done, but then he said. "Peter, I would literally kill someone for a cheeseburger."
Peter laughed, the sound echoing in the sparse room. "We'll see about that later, sweetheart. For now, just be a good boy and don't scream too much."
Stiles was going mad, he could feel it. It felt like every waking moment was spent with that insistent tugging on his chest, and the never-ending vibrations in his ass. It went on for so long it felt like nothing, the nerves in his hole going numb. He wished the same thing was happening with the suction cups, but the pattern always changed, from alternating to constant pressure to only tugging on them one at a time. At first, it was painful, but now it was a sensation that was getting dangerously close to something he couldn't comprehend.
He wanted to enjoy the time when the man turned off the machines, but it seemed like after a few minutes he would fall asleep, only to wake up to another pattern. Like this moment. The machines had started up again. Every new session felt fresh, the vibrator so long that it pressed just under his prostate. He grinded down on it to get direct stimulation, and soon he was fucking himself on the thing. It wasn't enough to push him over the edge, but at least he was doing something, and maybe if he tried hard enough, he could come and go to sleep for a little while.
Just as his hips were getting tired, something happened to his chest. It felt like something was being pulled out of him. There was a sort of wetness that lingered on his skin before being sucked away. Stiles felt his eyes go wide at the feeling, his whole being seemed to zero in on his chest, even as his body kept moving. It had to be sweat right? He was just exhausted and needed to sleep. Even as he slowed down, he felt the wetness being pulled out of him, he couldn't deny that, even as he held stock still it kept coming, a slow torturous collection of something.
He jumped when he heard the door open, crying out. He had been able to recognize the man's footsteps before he came in, but his focus was becoming hazy, like he couldn't concentrate on anything that wasn't his chest. The pulling feeling was starting to take on a new, hotter sensation, something that was seeping into the rest of his body. Soon, he felt like he was on fire and he squirmed under the heat, unsure whether he liked it or not.
The man wasn't in a rush despite Stiles' obvious distress, every footstep seemed like an eternity, but he slowly reached out to examine Stiles' chest, running his fingers along the skin outside of the cups. Stiles heard a faint hitch of breath, the first sound Stiles had ever heard from his mouth, and it was barely a hum. The footsteps circled around him, and those soft hands fiddled around with the wires laying against his spine. There was another distinct click, and Stiles screamed as he felt the vibrator start to move. The head started to thrust right up into his prostate, punching moan after moan out of him. It felt like forever and at the same time an instant until he was coming. It felt like it was ripped out on him, just like whatever was coming out of his chest.
The machines were turned off, and he was just sitting there, his head resting against the guy's chest as he tried to catch his breath, but no matter what he did, the fire in his body wouldn't go away. It seemed to be coming in waves, and even though his chest was being left alone now, there was an ever-growing itch there, centering right on his nipples. The skin under the cups felt tight and swollen. He felt tears slip down his cheek as they were caught by the man's warm hands cupping his cheek. He wiped them away with this thumb, and it lingered by the side of his mouth.
"Please," he said, feeling the fabric of the man's shirt press into his cheek. "I don't know what to do."
The man merely pushed his finger over Stiles' lips, clearing just wanting him to be silent.
He flipped on the machines again, and there was a hint of relief before the pleasure hit him again.
After two weeks of endless cat and mouse, Peter was finally done. He had pushed everyone who had stood in his way either out of the state or into a grave. He had worked so hard for it, he was ready to move on with the rest of his life. His new life, with his old partner and a new little pet to keep him company.
The old factory now looked almost brand new. The parking lot was still empty and cracked, but now it seemed like nature was trying to take over. The building itself was looking pristine, even the rust stains on the corners had been cleared away. Still, the place was devoid of people, but the old machines were replaced with large fenced off areas. The big workrooms were the perfect place to keep large, nonsentient pets. Peter couldn't wait to see this place filled with animals. It would make for excellent experiments. Deaton's ability to house so many creatures had always been impressive, and now he would get to see it first hand for years to come.
He found the vet in one of the smaller side rooms, his hands busy putting together a large device with lots of tubing and cuffs. There was already an identical machine set up behind him, one Peter knew was a milking machine. "Why do we need more than one?" he asked.
Deaton rolled his eyes. "Because we will need more than one milker," he explained like it was obvious.
"Not right away though, right?" Peter clarified. "It's not like we can keep taking people without drawing suspicions." They still had the law to deal with. Peter wasn't one for anarchy, and the humans could police themselves, as it were, so long as they didn't get in his way.
Deaton smirked. "I think we will be fine for a while, at least until we get up to half capacity." He stood up and brushed his hands off on his jeans. "He started lactating three days ago. Would you like to see?"
"Literally nothing would please me more right now." They both walked further into the building, Deaton murmuring out a list of things he still needed to do. Peter could hear soft whining as they got close to the offices, but nothing else. Deaton opened the door and allowed him to step inside first.
The machines were off as it turned out, Stiles was sitting with his arms again strapped down in front of him. His chest was heaving, making the cups shake on his chest. His panting mouth was wide open, his lips were redder now, full and plump, just waiting to be fucked. Succubus milk had that effect on a Spark. Really, though, the true beauty was concentrated in his lovely nipples. They had grown double in size in these last two weeks, and the cups had made them long as well as fat. With the machines turned off, they just lay flat, looking swollen and begging for attention. Peter was sure he had never seen a more perfect sight.
Peter stepped closer to get a better look. "Well, good morning, darling," he said.
Stiles whined, high and needy. "Peter, please," he begged. He pushed into Peter's touch when he ran his fingers over his shoulder, letting out a litany of 'please.'
Peter could see from this angle that his nipples were leaking. Even as the vacuum was resting, thick, cream-colored liquid was dripping down to the bottom of the cup. Deaton stood beside him by the switch. He unplugged the wires for the suction cups and unstrapped them from his chest. Stiles let out a distressed squeak, like he couldn't articulate what he wanted.
Peter replaced them with his own hands. He was pleased to feel the skin around his nipples tight from the pressure of the milk built up inside. He had come a long way in a week. "Oh, these must hurt. Do you need them pulled on?" He could see Stiles' cock coming to attention just from the mention. He flipped the switch so that the dildo started moving inside of him. Stiles arched his back, crying out loudly, his breath coming quick and short. His pale thighs flexed as he tried to ride the vibrator's rhythm. His cock instantly went to full mast, flushing a pretty delicate pink. Peter flicked at his nipples, enjoying the loud and unbridled reactions.
Stiles became taut as a bowstring, his muscles shivering under the strain. "You still need more, don't you, pet?" he cooed. Stiles nodded frantically, puffing up his chest in invitation. Peter circled back around to stand in front of him, leaning forward to lick at the skin his hands had been playing with. He teased around the nipple itself, listening to Stiles' moans pitch higher and higher in anticipation. He took pity and wrapped his lips around the bud, and even the gentlest tug sent Stiles over the edge. As his milk flowed easily into Peter's mouth, his come shot up to his chin, making a mess of the boy's stomach.
Peter pulled off once his new tit was empty. It didn't take long "I think you broke him," he said, flicking at the other nipple to get a response from the boy. His cock twitched, starting to get hard after only minutes of refractory time. Hopefully, he would learn how to come just from his nipples being played with, that would make him much easier to handle in the long run.
Deaton rolled his eyes. "It's just what happens when you leave a succubus wanting." He turned off the machine, making Stiles whine at the loss. It didn't seem like he'd registered Deaton's voice, which was probably why he wasn't concealing it anymore. The boy was too far gone now, no matter what they did.
He slowly unclasped Stiles' hands, who instantly started feeling around his head, fumbling with the buckles of the blindfold. His eyes were crusted over, and he had to blink several times before he could keep them open for longer than a second. Peter had expected, with the way the bottom half of his face had changed, that his eyes would have as well, but they were exactly the same, except that they seemed to glow now. Like the magical being he had always been.
"Oh, gorgeous," Peter said, awestruck. He cupped the boy's face, brushing away some crusties. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, as Deaton undid his legs. He helped Stiles to his feet, leaving the vibrator stuck to the chair, pleased to see that his legs weren't cramping. Stiles seemed to be taking everything in at half speed, his gaze roaming over Peter like this was his first time seeing him. He braced himself on Peter's shoulders, and slowly started exploring, squeezing at the muscles on his biceps and chest like he was looking for something. Peter allowed the touches, amused at Stiles' seemingly naive wonder.
Stiles honed in on Peter's crotch, his pretty lips falling open automatically. Peter smirked, his own hands going to his belt and zipper, seeing as Stiles was so dazed now. The boy's fingers moved along the small amount of fabric revealed, hovering over the tent of Peter's boxers. He cast his eyes over to Deaton, who had come to stand beside them, sharing a moment of satisfaction of a job well done. "Stiles," the man said, jolting him out of his trance, if ever so slightly. "I can take you to get something to eat, or perhaps get you a proper shower...?"
"Yeah," Stiles replied dazedly. "Yeah, just... hold on, one sec." He started pushing Peter over until he was laying flat on his back, the boy on his knees above him. He tried to pull down Peter's pants on his own, but he took pity and lifted his hips, allowing his ass to lay bare on the cold concrete floor and his cock stood proudly. Stiles stared at it with abandon, a little bit of drool falling from the corner of his mouth. His fingers were no longer aimless, grasping the shaft tightly and positioning himself over it. His hole was still drenched with lube and gaping from his long stints on the dildo, so he slid down like a dream, all pleasant heat and soft velvety walls. The look on his face, however, was far more satisfying. It was like he was having an out of body experience, an epiphany and seizure all at once. A soft little "yes" escaped his lips as everything clicked into place in his mind. Peter wanted to commit it to memory, wishing he had a camera on hand to capture this perfect moment.
It took his entire being to hold his hips still as Stiles discovered the new sensations he was able to feel. His hips rising ever so slightly, his insides clenching and unclenching, making Peter's eyes roll in his skull. Soon he was rolling his whole body into it, riding Peter like a champ, like he had been doing it all his life. Peter tried his best to let him set the pace, his hands resting on the curve of his hips just to keep him steady, and just taking in the lovely sight of the boy falling apart above him, bring him closer and closer to completion.
His pace got more frantic over time. His breath became labored with his efforts, though he never faltered in his movements. Soon his face was pinched with frustration, his fingers clenched tight on Peter's abdomen. Deaton crouched down, examining Stiles' features impassively. "How does it feel?" he asked, his voice pitched low.
"It's so good!" Stiles practically sobbed. "Why isn't it enough?" He sped up his hips, squeezing down on Peter's cock, making him groan. The poor thing was at war with himself: his new nature battling against the training Deaton had put him through.
Fortunately, Deaton took pity on him, getting down onto his knees and wrapping an arm around the boy's back. As soon as Deaton's lips pulled at the beautiful little bud Stiles screamed with pleasure, slamming himself down to the hilt as he came, his come shooting out of him like his last orgasm had been years ago, not the ten minutes it had been.
Peter growled, picking up the pace, pushing into those fluttering walls surrounding him. He came watching Stiles' slack-jawed face, his glazed eyes, the way Deaton swallowed the milk as he kept going, a beautiful image to top a perfect moment. His come poured into the boy, who hummed pleasantly, probably feeling full. It was a lot for his first meal.
Deaton pulled off, licking his lips. Stiles stared at him, looking like a lost little lamb, he didn't even seem to register that he recognized him. "Do you like your milkings, Stiles?" he asked. Stiles hesitantly nodded, the motion moving through his entire body. His hand went to the neglected nipple, rubbing his thumb over the bud absently. Deaton pulled him up to his feet, come already oozing out of him. "Come along then."
Stiles gave a passing look down to Peter, still laying on the floor. He gave the boy a wolfish grin. "Go on now, precious. We're going to introduce you to your new best friends."