Chapter 1: bestiality, public sex, exhibitionism, impregnation, consensual noncon
She had her knees spread, the small of her back tilting painfully as large hands pressed down on her waist, gripping her too tightly, yanking her back onto cruel thrusts. The monster’s pelvis was flush against the curve of her ass, leathery fur slapping furiously against her milky-white skin, an inhuman cock stretching her pussy wide. She had got wet despite herself, and it dripped down her legs, slickened the inside of her soft thighs. Her pelvis was aching, body pushed to its limit, a bulge hammering against the inside of her body, showing through her stomach. Her hands were planted on the ground, a plea for stability as she was fucked. The wolfman hadn’t even bothered to undress her, had just thrown her down and started fucking her, and the front of her shirt was pulled taut, full breasts swinging every time the monster forced himself deep.
She had known to avoid the woods. She had been warned.
But she’d been careless.
“Please stop,” she whimpered, words hitched and interrupted, the pace of the fucking too intense for her to draw a proper breath, “pl- please stop,”
There was a growl behind her, like the wolfman still had some semblance of his humanity left, like he could hear her words and understand them. But she didn’t get the reaction she wanted. He thrust into her harder, rougher, faster, skin slapping unnaturally fast. One hand abruptly left her waist, grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair, and pulled. Her back arched, neck aching, and she cried out, the sound mangled and helpless.
“Stop! Stop it, please stop…!”
Overhead, the full moon glowed. Her mouth was open wide, lips glistening with chapstick, pink like the flesh of a strawberry, begging for a cock to be shoved down that throat. Her green eyes were bright and clear, made all the more pretty for the tears that beaded in her lashes and spilled down her flushed cheeks. Her suffering was so beautiful. And as she was fucked, a pathetic litany of, “no, stop, please, please” weaving through the air, other monsters watched.
The wolfman had bitten, clawed, fought, and fucked his way to the top of the food chain. He dwarfed her, gigantic by comparison, his cock at least the size of her forearm, his torso thick with muscle and covered in hair. The king had his prize, and the other monsters salivated at the sight of his conquest, hungry for her bouncing tits, for her juicy pussy, for her whimpers and her womb. It wasn’t often that they had visitors, because most humans knew to stay away.
Maybe they would get an opportunity later. In the meantime, they kept their distance, waiting, watching. From where she was being violated, body rocked by thrusts, she could see them. Glowing eyes, wide and manic, flashes of saliva-wet teeth in wide jaws. She sobbed, wishing she’d never come this way, wishing she’d stayed home, wishing there wasn’t a cock splitting her in half. She wondered if any other humans would wander by this place, whether anyone would see her, whether they'd witness her being raped in public by a hideous monster.
“Pl- Please, I won- I won’t tell anyone, if y-you just stop-”
He yanked her around like a doll, like a fucktoy, growls humming deep in his sinewy throat. He got tired of pulling her hair, took hold of her hips once again to really give it to her.
She screamed at his renewed vigour, falling forward, hands bunched up under her face, cheek pressed against the dirt.
He just kept going.
She didn’t know how long it’d been. Sounds kept falling from her mouth, a helpless string of uh, uh, uh, uh, but she wasn’t present any more. Her eyes were glazed-over, lips parted in unconsciousness, hair falling about her face. He’d torn at her clothes after a while, ripping clean through her shirt, shreds of fabric clinging to her poor abused body. Her tits were pillowed against the ground, porcelain skin marred by dirt, the buds of her nipples rubbed pink and raw by the fucking.
Time became liquid, unknowable, confusing. Her mind was broken. Warped by the violence of this wolf mating her. Eventually, she realised something had changed. The monster had slowed, but become more brutal, driving deeper, hungry groans building in his chest.
No, no, no, he can’t, he can’t,
She didn’t have the ability to protest, a groan punching out of her as the wolf started to come, his hot seed flooding her, filling her up. She writhed, trying to get away, but only succeeded in forcing herself further back onto his cock. She could feel the liquid gushing inside her, and if she’d been able to press a hand against her torso, she’d have felt her skin swelling. As it was, she was pinned down, crying pathetically, as he fucked the last of his come into her. It spilled out between her legs, dampening her ass, sticky on the ground. By the time he was done, it was a puddle.
She fell limp. Finally, it was over.
Then, his big hands were on her again, furred palms under her ribcage, lifting her. She whined brokenly, trying to plead for it to stop, trying to beg, please, no more, no more, but then her head was hanging, breasts naked to the open air, as he slung her over his shoulder.
He took her away. Other monsters watched, hungry now, a dozen cocks unsheathed and dripping, as the limp girl hung from the wolfman’s grip.
She awoke on a soft bed, the mattress embracing her tired back. Her pussy had been washed clean, tattered clothes thrown into the bin, a fresh dress buttoned tidily over her bruised body. A fireplace filled the cottage with warmth, and the moment her eyelids twitched, her boyfriend was attentively leaning close. His dark fur and hardened skin had fallen away to reveal tawny hair, concerned eyes, and a lightly freckled face.
“Babe? You okay?”
She smiled sleepily. Yeah, she was okay. It’d been a risk, fucking her boyfriend during the full moon, but it’d been worth it.
“I’m okay, baby,” she murmured.
He took her hand, pressed a loving kiss to the back of her knuckles. She was exhausted, but a flash of warmth sparked in her groin at the thought of doing this again next month.
Chapter 2: bestiality, public sex, voyeurism, impregnation
Daryl was an old-fashioned guy, okay. He liked hunting, fishing, and fucking. He lived alone, drank too much, couldn’t hold down a relationship, and worked for a logging company. His walls were covered in the mounted heads of his conquests, glassy eyes watching him as he shuffled around his cabin, but they weren’t enough. He needed to bag a big motherfucker, needed to take down something more impressive than a bear or a deer. He knew all the rumors about what lurked in one specific forest, knew to avoid it, knew that a bloodborne disease ran rampant in townies, men creeping off to the woods once every month so they didn’t kill their wives when they turned.
It was the perfect opportunity.
Daryl was hungry for it, bloodthirsty, itching to place the muzzle of his gun against the sloped forehead of a wolfman and pull the trigger. The bigger the prize, the better. He had been preparing for months. Traps. Rifles. Camouflage. Night vis goggles. Everything he could possibly need to take down one of these mutant beasts.
So, this night, he was dressed from head-to-toe in cleverly concealing attire, military-grade camo, scent obscured with a specialty musk that messed with wolfman brains. Thankfully, he wasn’t the only insane bastard out there looking to go on a suicide mission, so other hunters had done some of the prep work before him, usually by getting killed and proving by elimination what did– and definitely did not– work.
The night was silent. The wolves moved without sound, unless they were fighting, feasting, or fucking. Daryl regulated his breathing, stepped light, took care to avoid the snapping of sticks or the crunching of leaves. Adrenaline filled him, pumping hot through his body, his dick hard as a rock. This was literally life-or-death. He might die tonight. The danger turned him on.
He could hear low, rumbling tones, humming ominously like an oncoming storm. Occasionally, the swish of a tail, the muscular angle of an ape-like arm, moonlight catching on the broad planes of gigantic backs. He moved slow. Almost standstill. Army training had taught him patience that civvies would never know. He knew how to survive, and he knew how to adapt.
Then something happened.
Something he hadn’t expected.
A shock of red moved in the distance, a blur of fabric. Padded footsteps, light and hurried, high-pitched gasps for breath. When he turned to look, he was dumbfounded.
A fucking girl, running through the woods, wearing a bright red blouse like she wanted to be caught. She had a loose skirt on, and it flapped against her bare thighs as she fled, tits bouncing due to the pace she was running. Daryl noted, being the man that he was, that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The top two buttons of her shirt had come undone, and he almost felt like an animal himself, the way he stared at her shapely chest, concealed here in the darkness while this sweet, delectable damsel in distress ran through a maze of monsters.
He snapped out of it, realising what was happening. Shit, she’d die if he didn’t get her out of here. He began to advance forward, thinking that maybe she’d be grateful for the rescue and he could get his dick wet later, but he was frozen still within a second of making this not-so-selfless decision.
A huge shape, a hulking body, leapt from the darkness. It collided with her back, knocking her down.
Her scream sliced through the silence of the forest.
Daryl expected showers of blood, the rip and tear of intestines, the execution that would last no more than a few minutes. But his horror at the situation was, very quickly, replaced with awe at what the wolfman did next. He reached under the writhing woman’s body, grabbing her hips and yanking them into the air. Her skirt was pushed up above her waist, and Daryl could see white panties, even from this distance.
“No! No! Stop!”
The wolfman reached a clawed finger under the flimsy fabric. He yanked his hand in a brutal gesture, exposing the curve of her ass to the air. The shredded panties fell to the ground, soiled by the dirt.
“Let me go! Stop!”
He threw her down again, snarling, muzzle drawn back into a ferociously excited expression. He held her legs open, thrust his hips forward. She yelled, flailing, trying to hold her hands over her pussy, but it was obvious he had missed anyway. This was animalistic. Brutal. Visceral. He was too fucking aroused to concentrate.
Daryl felt himself getting turned on. He knew he should stop it, but he didn’t want to.
He could see the monster’s cock as it was thrust between her shaking legs. It stretched at least from her pussy to just below her sternum, the leaking tip of it bumping up against her tits, smearing thick semen against her shirt, leaving damp splotches. The wolfman drew his hips back again, angled his thrust upwards this time. The girl’s struggling intensified, became violent with terror, as that huge veined cock found the wet entrance of her pussy. Those lips parted around the shape of it, and her struggling only made matters worse.
“No! No! No!”
Daryl couldn’t move. He was too entranced.
The wolfman pushed forward, into her. Her screaming grew louder, back arching in agony, breasts jolted by the force of his lust. Daryl wanted to get his hands up under that shirt, grope her as she was raped. Nearby, monsters jostled and hissed, and Daryl knew he wasn’t the only one enjoying this, knew that– in the end– he and these animals weren’t so different. They were all lurking here, dicks dripping, aching to have a piece of the action.
“Take it out! It’s too big, stop! Stop! Take it out! Pleas-”
Her plea was interrupted when the wolfman forced himself deeper. Halfway in, now, and she was already taking more dick than Daryl had ever seen a human woman fit inside her. He could see, where her skirt and shirt were riding up, the bulge showing through her stomach, the press of an animal’s dick. So disgustingly sexy. Shit. Daryl was standing here, watching a woman being mated by a wolfman, and he couldn’t even bring himself to lie about how hot it was.
“Stop! Stop! Stop it! Take it out! Take it out of me!”
The wolfman thrust forward again. And again. And again. She was helpless against him, too weak to fight back. Daryl wanted to reach into his pants and jerk off, but he couldn’t risk being discovered by the crowd of salivating wolves that were watching too.
So he stayed still. Breathed slow.
Eventually, the wolfman was all the way inside. She was panting with it, that perfect ass marred by pink blemishes and the imprints of giant palms, sobbing on all fours. When the beast started fucking her where she was sprawled, she wailed louder, and Daryl blew his load.
His knees shook. The wolfman, unaware of the effect he was having on his enraptured audience, continued. Faster. Faster. Faster. Her tits were swinging, wet sounds rapidly squelching, skin slapping, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders.
“Please stop,” she sobbed, “Please, pl- please,”
Daryl couldn’t leave now. He’d already come, but fuck, he’d never get to see anything like this again.
So, he stayed.
He watched the girl getting fucked.
It took over an hour for the wolfman to finish. When he did, impregnating his human prey, come leaking out from between her legs and spilling thick from her stuffed pussy, Daryl was lightheaded. This was too much all at once. Too fucking sexy to watch.
The wolfman pulled his cock out, slow. The slide of it was incredible to watch, his length slick and glistening. It just kept going. It didn’t seem physically possible, that all of it had been forced inside her small, human body.
It sprung free with a wet pop. A gush of white seed poured from her as she lay there gasping, her eyes unseeing.
The wolfman picked her up, took her away. Daryl watched them go, noting how rigid that giant cock still was, certain that the wolfman was taking her away to rape her someplace else. He took a slow, deep breath, awe-struck.
What a goddamn evening this had turned out to be.
Chapter 3: tentacle rape, eggpreg, impregnation, public sex, swimsuit
She should’ve suspected this would happen.
When you fucked with one monster, you eventually fucked with them all. Her boyfriend’s wolf scent had filled her up, come dripping down her legs, fertile womb accepting his seed. She was marked, now. Owned. And that would’ve been fine, but wolves weren’t the only monsters out there, and every creature of sentience was now out to claim her too.
The first time it was a real problem was only a week later.
She was at the beach, stretched out on a towel, sun-warmed and languid. Her hands were limp by her sides, head tilted, lips parted with relaxed breaths. She looked as tempting as Christmas dinner, laid out like a treat, tanned skin smooth and unblemished, bikini top doing little more than cover her nipples.
She’d showered this morning, stepped out into the kitchen wearing a skimpy black bikini, and her boyfriend had gotten that look in his eye. She’d smiled in response, willingness evident, and then he’d pushed her down onto the floor and fucked her silly. Come was still hot between her thighs, leaking from her pussy, sticky on the inside of her swimsuit panties. It was hot, to be in public after being defiled on the floor. She liked being a slut, liked that she was dating someone who didn’t judge her for it. He respected her boundaries, treated her rough when she wanted it, provided affectionate aftercare later.
Life was good.
The waves crashed softly against the sand, the sunlight streaming down onto her, and she began to feel sleepy.
She let the world fade away.
Her sleep was heavy, unnaturally so. A veil of immobility that gripped her, forcing her mind to the deepest depths of slumber. She hovered on the edges of consciousness for a while. It felt like she was swimming, but that couldn’t be possible, because the towel was still under her back. A physical presence undulated around her, more tangible than water, and a part of her mind realised that she was completely surrounded by limbs.
Her arms had been pulled above her head, hands secured, a muscular grip encircling her slender wrists. Something moved beneath her bikini top, circling her nipples, sucking on them– and even in the state she was in, she knew this was wrong, knew that she was in danger.
Sensations bled back into her awareness, but she couldn’t budge where she lay, eyes closed, helpless. She could sense that something was moving her. A stab of pain, of pleasure, of fullness.
She was being fucked.
Cocks pounded into her, shaking her limp body on the towel, but they weren’t like any cock she’d felt before. Her boyfriend’s human cock was smaller than these things, and his wolf cock was different too. These cocks were slick, smooth, long, and seemed to have a mind of their own. And there were at least three inside her. She didn’t understand how three monsters could make this work, could find the right angles to all fuck her pussy at once, and then she realised what was raping her.
They had slithered beneath her bikini, found her already wet, and slipped inside while she was still asleep. The rapidly thrusting limbs moved alongside each other, reaching deeper inside her than anything else ever had, and as she began to regain consciousness, panic grew.
Her eyes flew open. Outlined against the warm blue sky was a hideous monster, a huge octopus-like being, its soulless eyes gazing down at her. She gasped, struggling now, arms unable to gain purchase as she was pinned down harder. Her nipples were hard from stimulation, her body warm and pliant as it had made way for the violation.
“No! Stop it! Someone! Someone, help me!”
Her ankles were seized, the thing taking hold of her even tighter than before. The tentacles moved faster, the sex sounding even wetter and more filthy than any sex she’d ever had before. She screamed as loud as she could, throat straining.
The thing towered over her. It fucked her harder, another tentacle prodding at her already-stuffed pussy.
“No! No! It won’t fit! Stop! Stop! Stop!”
A fourth one thrust into her, alongside the others. Her shriek could be heard for miles across the beach, and she didn’t know whether there was anyone watching, anyone who could help.
“Stop it! It hurts! Stop it!”
It kept going. And going. And going. Slime dripped down from its inhuman face, thick and viscous. She threw her head to the side, sobbing as the liquid pooled over her tits. The tentacles had pushed the bikini bra down, and she was humiliated by the bounce of her breasts every time the thing fucked into her. She was powerless, and eventually stopped begging, crying pitifully.
Then something changed.
All but one tentacle pulled out. She felt some relief, drenched in bodily fluids and thoroughly-fucked, thinking that perhaps it was over. Then the base of the tentacle swelled, a lump moving past her pussy lips and inside in a cruel push, and her screaming began anew. It was putting something inside her.
“Take it out! Take it out! Stop it! Stop!”
She writhed, tried again to escape, wailed as the knowledge of her situation overtook her. The thing was laying eggs inside her. Breeding her.
The first one nestled inside her, heavy. She could feel it in her body, see it when she lifted her head to look. Then the base of the tentacle swelled a second time, and she saw the long bulge of eggs filling the inside that limb, all lined up to be pumped into her like she was cattle, nothing more than a warm cunt to fill with offspring.
“No,” she begged, “No, no, no, please, please-”
It didn’t listen. She didn’t even know if it could understand her.
Nobody came to save her.
Her stomach swelled with the monster’s young, heavy and unbearable, slick overflowing from her pussy as the monster tried to fit as much inside as physically possible. Her head lolled limply with every intrusion into her body, nothing more than a puppet, her tits exposed to the warm sun, come drying on her skin.
The monster pulled out of her. Returned to the sea, satisfied that it had successfully procreated, that the survival of its young was guaranteed. The eggs pressed against her, filling her up in ways she hadn’t ever thought possible. She felt weird. Distant. She’d just been raped by a monster– or an alien, or whatever the fuck it had been– and her brain wasn’t working right.
She felt around for her phone. Wiped slickness off the screen. Dialled her boyfriend.
“What’s up, babe?”
She licked her lips, tasted sweet liquid, thought about her boyfriend seeing her fucked-out and pregnant.
“I need you.”
Chapter 4: pregnancy, egg laying, exhibitionism, medical
Please note: this fic, as stated before, is pure fantasy. It’s utterly unrealistic and removed from reality. In actuality, recovering from sexual assault is a lifelong and exhausting process, and I am not disregarding the seriousness of those experiences. I do not condone sexual assault or violence. For more information on why rape fantasies do not equal a desire to be literally assaulted, see this article. Most studies into rape fantasies are cis-centric and heterosexual, but I can promise that LGBT+ people also experience a range of darker sexual fantasies. As long as you are exploring kinks in a safe space with a partner who respects you, your fantasies do not disturb or upset you, and you have no plans to assault or hurt anybody, then you needn’t worry.
This chapter contains totally unrealistic medical practices. Once again, not a reflection of reality at all ;)
Her boyfriend took her to a specialist clinic, the same place that had prescribed him suppressants for his monthly condition. The advantage of living in a world populated by humans and monsters alike was that her situation, while unpleasant, wasn’t unusual. There were experienced professionals who could handle this. The doctor greeted them with a sympathetic smile, his wise face crinkling kindly, his hands gentle as he escorted her into a private room. She was walking unevenly, steps small and shuffled, boyfriend holding a blanket around her naked body.
She reclined back on a padded table, legs spread, pregnant stomach bloated beyond her normal limits. The stiff medical gown they’d given her sat oddly against her fertile body, bunched up in her lap as the doctor pushed it out of the way. Her pussy was exposed to the fluorescent lights, slick oozing onto the table and leaving a humiliating puddle. Her boyfriend held her hand, stroking her forehead tenderly. His face was tight with concern, and she could see the spark of anger there too, the protectiveness of his wolf side itching to go make calamari out of the monster that had impregnated his mate.
“We’re going to induce a form of labour,” the doctor informed her as he briskly pulled on a pair of gloves, “We’ll remove all the eggs and incubate them. They’ll be bred in captivity. I’ve informed the coastguard of your experience, and the creature itself will be captured, too.”
She nodded. The doctor slid a finger into her pussy, latex smooth and moistened, and she whimpered. Her boyfriend gripped her hand tighter in response.
“Will it hurt?” She whispered.
The doctor peered at her vagina, humming to himself quietly. “No. You’re very wide open, due to how recently the mating occurred. We’ll inject you with a synthetic hormone that will kickstart the birthing process. We’ll also give you painkillers. I’m sorry, but,” he straightened up, grinning apologetically at her from between her legs, “you will still feel the eggs coming out, though it won’t be painful.”
“Can’t you just sedate her completely?” Her boyfriend asked, his voice strained with worry. “If that’s what you’d prefer, babe?”
“I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible. It’s too unsafe to have a patient unconscious during a birth.”
“It’s fine, baby,” she smiled up at her boyfriend, feeling unafraid now that he was with her, now that these eggs would be emptied out of her body, “I’ll be okay.”
They made her undress so that she was totally naked, exposed to the bright clinic lighting. They wanted to make sure that all the eggs would leave her body, and that required seeing the full expanse of her torso. She looked fit to burst, a round bump protruding from just below her breasts to the base of her abdomen, thoroughly bred by that damn sea monster.
Laying there, she found herself getting wet. Her boyfriend was with her, looking so concerned and protective. A team of strangers were circling her defenseless naked body, and the meds they’d given her were starting to kick in, making the lights blur and the ceiling spin. She was the only naked person here, the subject of everybody’s rapt attention, like an object, like a living sex exhibit. Fuck. She really ought to go see a fucking therapist or something, deal with her issues. She just loved being a slut. She loved being vulnerable.
Her mother had been a succubus, but she’d always assumed that she was human, taking after her father’s genetics. She’d not presented at age sixteen, had developed as normal, so the doctors had announced that her mother’s genes skipped a generation.
She was starting to think that maybe they’d been wrong.
The eggs in her stomach started to shift, the doctor’s hands reaching into her pussy, coaxing them out. She moaned, arching her neck, writhing at the sensation. They must have thought she was in pain, because one of the doctors murmured a calm command, and then she was being strapped down, leather restraints around her ankles.
“Do you have to do that?” Her boyfriend snapped. “She’s been through enough.”
“We have to keep her still, or she risks injury.”
She panted, eyelashes fluttering, nipples hardening. Yeah, she was turned on beyond understanding. She shouldn’t have been, yet she was. Maybe she’d have to make a return visit to this clinic, get them to test whether she was a late-bloomer of a succubus. Maybe that was why every monster wanted to fuck her lately. Maybe that was why strangers on the street glanced at her twice, men forgetting their manners, hands grabbing her ass without permission. She’d thought it was just because her boyfriend had mated her, and the scent made her a target, but no. It was something more than that.
The first egg came out, rolling smoothly into the doctor’s palm. The sensation of it widening her pussy, popping out, and her cunt smoothly tightening again once it was gone, made her tremble. It was like being fucked in reverse. Jesus Christ, she really was a whore.
“You’re okay, baby,” her boyfriend reassured her, stroking her hair, “I love you so much, you’re doing so well.”
She nodded, not telling him how arousing this was. Another egg came out, lathered in monster semen and her own slick, strings of moisture between its shell and her pelvis. She cried out, and the sound probably appeared pained to those around her, but no, it wasn’t.
She was about to come.
The whole process took less time than she’d expected. When the last one popped out, she was empty and shaking, cunt loose from the births, mouth open wide, tits heaving as she gasped. Her boyfriend was kissing her forehead, cooing so sweetly, promising her a long weekend of relaxing baths and safety. She orgasmed, right there on the table, whimpering. Nobody seemed to notice what had happened. The doctors were gathered around the eggs, discussing them, and her boyfriend just thought she was in pain.
They unstrapped her. Took the eggs away. They lowered her, with shaking legs, into a wheelchair, fit a lopsided hospital gown around her. Her pussy was pouring so much juice, tits hanging heavy under the gown.
“Get her home and take care of her, son,” the doctor told her boyfriend kindly.
“I will, sir,” her boyfriend promised, “thank you.”
Chapter 5: romance, roleplay, daddy kink, bestiality, impregnation
Her boyfriend drove her home, showered her, and put her to bed. She slept for days.
He fed her hearty soup, creamy hot chocolate, candied fruit, and all manner of delicious food. She almost felt guilty, laying recumbent in silky sheets while he worked to pay the bills, coming home every evening to feed her dinner and check up on her vitals. But she enjoyed it, his devoted overtures of romance, loved that he cared so much. And he needed this, too. He needed to feel that he was doing something useful, needed to know that he was making a difference after such a traumatic event. And she should have been traumatised. Most women were.
But she wasn’t. Physical exhaustion aside, she was fine. And her boyfriend started to notice this, too.
“I thought you’d be more… upset,” he hedged one afternoon, leaned back in a chair by her bedside, “You seem… okay, and that… kinda worries me.”
She licked her lips, looked up at the ceiling as an excuse not to meet his eyes. “I have something to tell you,” she admitted shyly.
“What is it?”
“I think I’m… Well, I told you about my mother, yeah?”
He thought about it. “You told me she was a monster. A succubus.”
“Yeah. I thought I was human. But, lately, I… I think I might be like her. I don’t feel upset by what happened, I just… I would’ve liked a warning, before the mating happened, but I… It feels like what I’m supposed to be doing. Fucking. Mating.” She smoothed both hands over the sheets, nervous. “Obviously, I only want to be bonded to you. But I think… From what I remember of my mother’s experience, things will probably change for me, now that I’m presenting. I won’t have much of a choice when, and where, I have sex… Or who I have sex with. For succubi like me, it… It just happens. I think that was why I… Why I liked it so much, when we were playing rough, when you were taking me in the woods. Because it feels natural to me. To be a whore.” Her cheeks heated with a blush. “To be a slut.”
Her long, rambling explanation had petered out into a whisper by the time she was done, and the confession was met with silence. Too anxious to meet her boyfriend’s gaze, she continued speaking;
“I don’t want to be with anyone else, for me sex isn’t like that. I only want to be with you. I just- I need to fuck, I need to be fucked, it isn’t a choice-”
“Babe,” he said softly, sitting forward, “look at me.”
She did, teeth sunk into the fullness of her bottom lip, worried about how he’d react. But he was smiling, affection in his eyes. He’d met her kind before. He knew that this wasn’t something she could change. But he did need to make sure she knew who she belonged to. He took her hand, held it tight.
“Tell me you love me.”
She smiled, relief slackening her features, frown smoothing out into a beautiful smile. “I love you.”
He reached over, stroked her cheek. “Tell me you need me.”
“I need you, baby…”
His hand moved, sliding beneath the sheets. Fingers dipping beneath the lacy edge her bra, grabbing her breast. She moaned in surprise.
“Tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had.”
“You’re… You’re the best I’ve ever had.”
He stood up, toed off his boots. Then he got onto the bed, straddling her waist. She stayed where she was, head resting atop a plumped pillow, blonde hair spilling around her shoulders. He took off her panties, lifting her legs to pull them free, but left her bra on. He liked the way her tits bounced when they fucked, especially when she was partially clothed. Something about it made her even hotter.
He unzipped his pants, not breaking eye contact with her.
“Tell me I’m a slut,” she whispered as he took his cock out, words edged with breathlessness, “Force me. Tell me I’m disgusting.”
She was anything but. Milky white skin, full breasts, golden hair, pink lips, bright eyes… she was a fucking Playboy model, angel, schoolboy fantasy, and porcelain doll all in one. He loved her intelligence, her wit, her kindness, and her affection for him, but he also fucking adored her body. He had never expected that this goddess would look twice at him, had been stunned when she said yes to their first date. His hunger for her almost always pushed him to the brink of transforming, a love so ferocious it was criminal. He wanted to ruin her. Worship her. Give this goddess what she needed.
And if this goddess needed to be defiled, he would gladly comply.
“Tell me your safeword. Before we start.”
“Cranberry,” she replied.
He nodded, closed his eyes briefly as he got into character. When he opened them again, his gaze was dark, his smile was gone, and his softness had disappeared. He took two fingers to her pussy without asking, relished her shocked whimper.
“Is your cunt ready for me?” He asked, voice dipping into a low murmur, bordering on a growl. “Or are you still fucked-out from that monster?”
She crossed both arms over her bra like she was some innocent little girl, ashamed of her body and nervous about losing her virginity, but all the action did was push her tits up and make her even sexier. Her breaths hitched, pretend fear tightening her features.
“I… I don’t know if I want… I’m still sore, please don’t…”
He drove his fingers deeper. She gasped.
“Wait, please, I… Daddy, stop…”
He blinked, cock twitching as she whined that word. Shit, it’d been a while since they played that game. He fucked her with his fingers, heard wet noises as her body quickly responded. It made sense, now that he was thinking about it, that she would be a succubus; she was healing way faster than any human woman would, and truly hadn’t been lying when she said the beach incident hadn’t left her traumatised at all. She really was a sexual being. A creature made for fucking.
“Does my little girl like fingers inside her pussy? Huh?”
She shook her head. “No, no, it feels funny.”
“Funny is good. You’ll like it, I promise.”
“I don’t… I don’t think I do like it…”
Poor little red riding hood, shivering in a wolf’s bedroom, being violated by a monster. It was a fantasy they both loved. He could barely believe that, before they started dating, he’d exclusively had vanilla sex, never exploring this darkness with anybody. She’d liberated him. Changed him.
He pushed down his jeans, just low enough that he could fuck her. He took himself in hand, fingers gripping the base of his cock. He pressed the tip against her pussy, and she jolted in surprise, hands flying up to hold his shoulders, as if she was really trying to stop him.
“No, daddy, stop, I don’t want to-”
“Just the tip, baby,” he cooed, “You’ll like it, it won’t hurt.”
He didn’t wait for her to give permission, just pushed forward. She wailed, throwing her head back, hands clasped over her mouth. He thumbed her clit for a bit, then continued his advance into her wet cunt, immediately met with a scream from her and renewed flailing to try and stop him.
“Daddy, you said just the tip! Daddy!”
He forced himself all the way in, breathing hard, until he was fully inside. She was crying so prettily.
“My baby girl feels so good.”
He fucked her hard and fast, cock pistoning in and out, the bed frame slamming against the wall, the alarm clock on the bedside table tipping over and clattering to the floor. She sobbed like she hated it, but they both knew better; she had a safeword, she would use it if things became too intense, if she wanted to stop for any reason. This was all for her. This was her fantasy, more than his.
Then something went wrong.
The heat beneath his temples burned, pulsing and growing, until he realised his pace was too fast, his muscles were aching, and the gums of his teeth were starting to burn. Fuck. This had only happened once before, he hadn’t been prepared for it, and certainly hadn’t been taking his suppressants since his girlfriend enthusiastically enjoyed being fucked during the last full moon. His dirty talk devolved into rumbling growls, the bones in the back of his hands cracking as his palms widened, fingers lengthening. His shoulders jerked and twitched, muscles becoming more pronounced, hair sprouting on his skin, the seams of his jeans straining and then tearing, fabric sliced in two. He was transforming. And, for a while, she didn’t notice, until the cock inside her started to expand too.
She opened her eyes and gasped, the face above her contorting and melding, a snarl tugging at previously-human lips. Oh, fuck yeah. This was a fucking gift.
“Keep going,” she breathed, “I want it, baby. Give in. Pretend you’re forcing me.”
With what humanity remained, he concentrated enough to nod, to hum out a gravelly agreement, before the thrusts amped up in intensity. His cock pushed further and further into her, a bulge in her body, the pressure inside almost unbearable. Almost. But she wasn’t a human, was she? She was built for this. Engineered to be the most resilient sexual partner in the world.
“Daddy, what’s-” She choked as he thrust forward, hyperventilating like she was truly caught off-guard by this, like she was a horrified victim. “Daddy, what’s happening? It hurts, daddy- Daddy! Daddy, stop it! Daddy!”
He fucked her harder. The bed groaned beneath the pressure, the mattress dipping, sheets torn by his claws. She was yanked higher as he grew in size, hips lifted into the air, tits bouncing back towards her face as she was dangled like a sex doll. She gripped the pillow behind her head, crying, pussy being pounded with all the intensity of a sex machine turned up to maximum.
He didn’t last long. Spontaneous, non-lunar transformations were hard to maintain.
“No, daddy! You can’t! Stop it! You can’t come inside me! Daddy!”
He pushed forward one final time, hot come bursting inside her, tipping his head towards the ceiling and howling triumphantly.
They lay side-by-side on the ruined bed, her bra askew, one nipple showing, her pussy ruined. He panted as his body returned to its natural state, pointed teeth receding, sweat dripping from his face. She took his hand, and they both tried to catch their breath, gazing at the ceiling, too tired to cuddle.
“I really do love you,” she breathed, “so fucking much.”
Chapter 6: medical kink, dubcon, impregnation, sex toy
The clinic invited her back, to be seen by an incubus who specialised in the diagnosis and treatment of their kind. His name was Mr Williams, and when he opened the door to his office, he looked utterly unassuming. Brown hair shot through with streaks of grey. Steady hazel eyes. An unimpressive body. But there was an energy about him, a stillness, that spoke of his sexual superpowers. She’d never met a male of her kind before, only ever seen her mother, a female of the species.
“You must be young Annie. Please, come in.”
She did, thanking him quietly. She’d been at a loss as to what she should wear today, and had opted for a patterned sundress that was hemmed just above her knees, with a neckline that wasn’t too revealing. She had no idea what a succubus diagnosis examination would entail.
She put her handbag down on one of the seats, and went to sit down herself. The doctor stopped her, fingers gently gripping her shoulder.
“No, please remain standing, my dear.”
She did, confused.
“Hands by your sides, please.”
Again, she did what she was told.
The doctor stood back, resting his weight on one leg, hands clasped in thought. He looked her up and down, eyes lingering on her breasts, her waist, her delicate features. She didn’t look away, though she was mildly uncomfortable; the air between them was heavy with meaning, two kindred creatures meeting for the first time, and she felt that this doctor could see her in ways nobody else ever had. That was an intense thing to realise. She toyed with the edge of her dress as her cunt became slick. He was looking at her like a science experiment, fully aware of how perverted and sexual she was, and she enjoyed it.
The doctor nodded. “Hmm. Remove your dress, please.”
“I… Are you sure that’s necessary?”
“I need to conduct a thorough examination.”
Thorough. Her heart thudded in her chest when she saw the calm intent in this stranger’s eyes, the complete control that filled his words. Oh, fuck. What was he going to do to her?
“I have a boyfriend,” she said, “He’s… very protective. A werewolf. If you… He might know, and he might…”
“…be possessive? You’ve told him about your situation, I assume.”
“Then we have no problem. He will have to accept that this is your life now. So will you.” The doctor gestured to her body. “Remove your dress.”
She reached up, took hold of the dainty straps that were holding her dress in place. She slid them off her bare shoulders, pulled the dress down her slender body. It pooled over her feet, and she stepped out of it. She pressed her thighs together, ashamed of the wet patch that was visible on her panties.
The room was silent for a long moment.
“Remove your underwear, too.”
She wanted to protest, but couldn’t think of an excuse to refuse him. She did want to be diagnosed. And she was, despite herself, aroused. Her condition was making itself known, and he was completely aware of the effect he was having on her.
She reached behind her back, unclasped her bra. Hunched as she took it off, shoulders curling inward. Her breasts hung when she leaned down to drop it next to her dress. Then, she took hold of her underwear’s waistband, and tried not to hesitate before exposing herself completely.
When she straightened up, clothes all on the floor, she was entirely naked.
The doctor stared at her.
She waited for him to speak, hands by her side, pussy wet.
After a while, he stepped forward, cupped her breasts as if he were weighing them. She swallowed thickly, the hollow of her throat tightening, able to feel his soft exhalation due to how close he was standing.
“Have you experienced sudden growth in your breasts? Mild pain, increased nipple sensitivity?”
“…I think so.”
He took her right nipple between two fingers, pinched it. She stiffened, shocked.
“Tell me if you experience pleasure when I do this.”
“I… I do. Why- Why do you have to do this?”
“To gauge your sexual responsiveness and your presentation.” He let go of her breasts, hands moving down now, feeling her body as he went. His fingers eventually found her pussy, and she gasped, clenching her hands into fists by her side. But she didn’t push him away. He curled one finger up into her, pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit, making her tremble. The overhead lights made his skin glisten where it was moistened by her juices.
“Very responsive. Your scent is also typical of a female of our species,” he observed clinically, massaging her, “Do you experience pleasure when I touch you like this?”
She was starting to breathe heavier, almost dizzy with the intensity of this moment. “Are you- Are you allowed to do this?”
“But you’re,” she stifled a moan, “You’re a doctor, this is-”
“You’ll need to get used to this, my dear. Our kind was created for sex. A full mating session is the only way to properly confirm your diagnosis, and since this was a rushed appointment, and I have not seen you being sexually active, I will need to perform the act today.”
She blinked, absolutely dumbfounded. “But you- You can’t do that. You can’t just… You’re…” her voice became small, almost frightened, “…You’re going to fuck me?”
He smiled, eyelids hooded, expression clever and unashamed. “I am, sweet thing.”
Annie trembled, his hand still molesting her pussy. She liked it. Oh fuck, she liked it. She couldn’t even deny it. But she was somewhat overwhelmed, knowing that this was her whole life now, that this was the beginning of her new self; and maybe he could see that, because the next thing he did was take hold of her neck, stroking her cheek tenderly with his thumb.
“This is for the best. You’ll be alright, I promise. With my help, you can manage your condition safely, and maintain a healthy relationship with your mate. We just need to get through this examination. I’ll be gentle with you.”
She couldn’t exactly refuse him. She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded, hoping her boyfriend wouldn’t be too angry.
The doctor took hold of her shoulders, turned her around to face the wall. She braced herself there with two hands, shocked that he was doing this so abruptly, that he wasn’t even going to bother providing a bed for her to be comfortable, or lube to ease the way.
“Wait,” she said, slightly panicked by the sound of him undoing his pants behind her, “Wait, shouldn’t we…”
“The experiment must commence immediately. I have more appointments after this.”
Annie felt his cock press against her pussy. She squeezed her eyes shut as he pushed into her, gripping her waist. The moment he was fully inside her, he began thrusting, perfunctory and composed about it, his breaths unhurried. Like this was just another doctor’s appointment. Meanwhile, her heart was racing, her breasts jolted by his movements, gasping where she stood.
“Your responsiveness is good. Very classic of a succubus your age.” He fucked into her calmly, skin quietly slapping. “It’s unusual that women present later in life, but it does happen. When did you first have sex?”
She panted, feeling delightfully humiliated, being fucked like a stranger like this. She couldn’t concentrate.
“My dear, I need you to answer the question.”
“When I… I was eighteen.”
He continued, pace unchanged. “Tell me about your sexual partner. Were they male or female?”
“He… He was my dad’s friend, he… ah… he saw me, and he… he crept into my room at night, and…”
“Was it a pleasurable encounter?”
“…It shouldn’t have been, he was thirty years older than me, he…” she lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle a moan, “…He was taking advantage, but I… I liked that he was so much older than me, I- ah-”
The doctor took her hand, pulled it behind her back. He took the other one too, held them both still, increased his pace. Her shoulders were tugged back by the angle at which he pinned her hands, and it made her tilt her neck upward, gasping.
“I need to observe your complete responses. Do not cover your mouth or hold back. Continue telling me about your first sexual encounter. What did you like about it?”
Annie whimpered, hair falling in her eyes, come dripping down her legs. “I liked that he… wanted me… I…”
“Had you been seducing him? Tempting him?”
“I… I didn’t wear panties under my dress, I wanted him to see…”
“You wanted him to fuck you.”
“Had you exhibited an aggressive sexuality at a young age?”
“Wh- What do you m- ah,”
“Being assertively sexually attracted to your peers during the early onset of puberty can be an indicator of our species,” he clarified blandly, “When did you first desire the sexual attentions of a male?”
“When I,” her voice was unsteady, words hitched and broken by the force of his thrusts, “When I was thirteen… My mother, she… knew, I think, she… kept me safe… away from m- men…”
The doctor thrust into her harder, his breathing still unhurried and even, fully clothed and calm as she trembled, shaking and naked against the wall. She suddenly wondered if people out in the hallway could hear them fucking.
“Stop… Someone might… hear…”
“It’s alright, my dear. This is a safe environment for the monitoring and testing of new succubi. There is no judgement here.”
He fucked her harder. She realised what was about to happen.
“Wait, you can’t-”
“The sexual testing needs to be complete for me to fully assess you. Stay still.”
He held her in place, hips moving faster and faster, body crowding her up against the wall, chest flush against her back. Her hands were crushed between them, held at an awkward angle, and she felt utterly dominated. His unassuming appearance had been hiding his raw power, the cold indifference of a incubus.
He came inside her pussy, forcing her to hold still as he did. When he was done, he stepped away from her, cock slipping out wetly.
She did as she was told.
He went to his desk drawer, took something from it, closed it again. When she felt something being put inside her cunt, she tried to push him away.
“Why are you-”
“You need to get used to being filled. It is your life now. This plug will help.”
Once he was done positioning it inside her, he took a towel, wiped the damp come from her thighs and ass. She slumped against the wall, feeling lightheaded. She didn’t resist when he turned her around, cupping her breasts again. He felt her up, touching and pinching her whole body until she was pink and flushed all over, wishing she could be annoyed at this turn of events, but unable to deny how right it felt to be mated by a stranger.
“Congratulations, Annie,” he began with a grin, “you are, indeed, a succubus.”
Chapter 7: public sex, gangbang, noncon, fisting, choking
She pulled her underwear back over her drenched pussy, the plug thick inside her, keeping the doctor’s semen from leaking out. Slipping back into her summerdress was the most erotic part of all this, and knowing that she was leaving this way, violated and damp with bodily fluids, made the whole experience utterly worth it. The doctor prescribed her suppressants to ensure she didn’t attract anymore unwanted attention, stressing to her that all manner of creatures would be hungry to mate her now. She had to be careful too, because after a while she’d start to gain other powers, and if unchecked, having sex could result in the death of her partners. Originally, succubi like her had mated for the express purpose of killing victims via fucking. It was a frightening thing to imagine herself doing.
She put the box of pills in her handbag, paid for the appointment, and got on the train home.
She gazed out the window, watching scenery flash by, standing and looking outward. It was a quiet night, only four other people in this carriage; three men and a woman, all looking at their phones. With every chug of the train, her dress swayed, and she pressed her legs together, a blush creeping up her neck and colouring her cheeks. Having been so recently undressed and forcefully fucked, the flimsy outfit she was wearing felt more revealing than usual. That jokey saying, we’re all naked under our clothes, felt insanely accurate right now.
The plug in her pussy shifted deeper when the train rocked to the side, her staggering step moving the foreign object, and she bit her lip hard. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the window, trying not to moan. Her long hair fell down her shoulders, grazing the top of her breasts. The shape of the sex toy was perfectly designed to get her off without even vibrating. The doctor had done this on purpose. She was beginning to suspect that the whole appointment had been more about providing an induction into succubus life.
There was the scuffed sound behind her, the distinct clack of a businessman’s shined shoes. She was about to turn around, see what the man wanted, but then a hand landed on her ass. And not just that. The guy’s palm slid down between the backs of her thighs, following the curve of her pert ass, her dress bunching up against his wrist. He stroked her pussy through her already-soaked panties. She tried to push him away, but he slammed her against the window, causing her tits to press hard up against the glass. She struggled, but he held her still with the weight of his body, much in the same way that the doctor had.
“Let me go,” she craned her neck to the side as the man aggressively palmed her pussy, staring imploringly at another male passenger, “Help me! Stop him!”
The other man stood. He slid his jacket off his shoulders, rolled up his sleeves. Her heart sank as another man rose from his seat, depositing his belongings and turning his full attention to her. The other woman on the carriage stopped the work she’d been doing on her laptop, and walked over too. They all had hungry, lust-filled eyes, crazed by their need to fuck her. She whimpered, realising that she’d fucked up, that she should’ve called her boyfriend to come get her.
“Knew you looked like a slut,” the first man hissed in her ear, “Look at you, so fucking wet already, so eager for it.”
“No,” she groaned, pretending that this was wholly unexpected, pretending she hated this at all, “Please, stop…”
He tore the neckline of her dress, ripping the delicate fabric, yanking her bra down. His patience very clearly ran out with molesting her, and he undid the front of his trousers, taking out his cock. She jumped to the side, trying to get away, but ran straight into the arms of another man. She was wrestled to the ground, yelling in fright, forced onto her back. One guy held her hands above her head as she kicked and screamed, knowing that the train ride would last another two hours yet, knowing that nobody was going to come save her, knowing that any potential rescuers would probably just rape her too.
The first man got between her legs, movements violent and rough, tearing her panties away. He yanked out the plug and threw it to the corner of the train as she sobbed. Immediately, he shoved his cock in her pussy, and she wailed, trying to fight off the man holding her arms. She loved this, but they couldn’t know that. It turned her on just to play the game, to pretend that she hated it, to struggle.
“Please stop, please-”
“You fucking whore, yeah, yeah, fuck, feel so good-”
“Stop it, stop, please, get off me-”
“Shut up bitch!” He slapped her, palm colliding with her cheek with a vicious crack, her head thrown to the side. She gasped, body rocked by his rapid thrusting and the movements of the train, tears beading in her eyelashes, face burning from the impact of his strike.
“You’ll take what I give you, slut!”
They fucked her.
By the time the first man was done, she had fallen limp, given up fighting. Another man lifted her, positioned her ragdoll body on top of his, her tits pressed against his chest. Without any foreplay, he thrust his dick up into her. At the same time, another man got behind her, on top of her, the tip of his cock poking at her pussy.
“No,” she moaned brokenly, face tucked into the first man’s shoulder, “stop, it won’t fit, stop-”
He forced his cock in beside the other man’s.
When they were finished, her body overflowing with four separate loads of come now, the woman stepped forward. She flipped Annie onto her back, got down on her knees and straddled her face. Annie gave muffled protests, but could do little more than try to keep breathing as the woman rode her mouth, pussy shoved against her lips. It lasted a while, and the woman came twice, but still wasn’t done. The men watched as the woman got between Annie’s legs, fingers pounding into her cunt. Annie lay still, unresponsive, face dripping with come, until she felt the woman’s thumb slide into her pussy, followed by the rest of her hand, all the way up to her wrist.
“Stop it, stop it, no, no- No! No, stop! Stop it! You’re hurting me! Stop-”
She was cut off by a hand on her throat, the woman seizing her in a ruthless grip, fingers cutting off her airways. Annie convulsed as the woman fisted her, pounding her pussy relentlessly, punching deeper than any of the men had thrusted. Choking, Annie flailed, batting at the woman’s hands as her vision greyed out.
The woman fisted her until Annie was barely even awake, her face reddened from oxygen deprivation, gasping helplessly, eyes watery with tears, lips shining from all the abuse and come. Then two of the men were ready to go again, and they fucked her pussy, the other guy abusing her throat with his dick, pressing her face right up against his crotch. She couldn’t move, couldn’t resist them, broken in ways she’d never been. She loved it, warmth pumping through her, a dirty whore filled with come on the floor of a public train.
When they arrived at her station, the conductor got out, curious to see what all the noise was. He told the four strangers to leave, threatened to call the cops. Annie gazed up at him listlessly, panting, her tits splattered with come.
The conductor left, and locked the doors of the train. He came back and stood over her, and she knew what would come next. She wanted it. She wanted to be fucked again.
Still, she pretended.
“Help me,” she whimpered pathetically, letting her voice break into a sob, holding two hands over her pussy, “Please, mister…”
His eyes were bright with intent. He started undoing his belt.
Chapter 8: ageplay, manipulation, shapeshifting, oral sex
A minor warning: in this chapter, our succubus protagonist seduces a sexual predator with the intent of killing him. Though this in itself is pretty par-for-the-course, readers should be warned that she uses his underage fantasies to manipulate him into having sex with her. She basically poses as a victim and deceives him into thinking she’s a normal girl. It doesn’t warrant an underage warning because no actual underage sex occurs (and it’s written from her perspective so her adult succubus dynamic is always very clear), but if it’ll upset you, probably skip this one.
Annie blinked herself awake, early morning light streaming into her room, delicate curtains softly swaying with a warm breeze. She stretched her arms above her head with a long groan, hungry for coffee.
Without bothering to get dressed, she wandered out into the kitchen. Daniel, her boyfriend, was out on an extended stay for work, meaning she had been alone a lot over the past few weeks. He called every night, checked in to make sure she was doing okay, and they’d even gotten dirty a few times, exchanged lude fantasies over the phone while they jacked off in different countries. And she liked it. It was nice.
But it wasn’t enough.
She made herself a foamy latte, settled down with her mug cupped between her hands, naked body folded into the corner of the couch. She turned on the television for background noise, and reached for the pill box that now sat on the coffee table, gazing at it with no small amount of distaste.
True to the doctor’s word, he had prescribed her medication which perfectly managed her condition. There had only been a few side effects– indigestion, nausea, hormonal swings– which she hadn’t minded, and all those had faded now. No, what really bothered her was the fact that the pills were functioning at all. She had to work herself up into a frenzy just to get wet, had to concentrate on a filthy fantasy to get things going, and hadn’t been fucked since Daniel left. It was practically smarter to be taking these, and she knew that it was probably more faithful to wait until her boyfriend returned to have her pussy filled with cock, but her nature demanded more. She wasn’t a human. She was a succubus. And these pills may have worked for newly-presented succubi, most of them in their early teens when suppression was absolutely necessary, but she was a grown goddamn woman. And Daniel had told her that he wouldn’t mind if she fucked around. He’d been very open to the notion, as long as she stayed emotionally exclusive.
She tapped the side of her mug, biting at her lip. Thinking this through. What worried her most about ceasing treatment was the fact that she would develop lethal abilities, which would drain the life of most sexual partners she encountered. The doctor had reassured her that werewolves were strong enough to withstand such impacts, but he’d also stressed that humans wouldn’t be so lucky. Looking back now, Annie had realised that was the reason for her parent’s divorce. Her mother had loved her father, which had always been confusing, because she’d demanded the marriage end. To save his life, Annie realised in retrospect. To keep him from falling prey to her lust.
She looked at the pill box for a little longer, and then an idea occurred to her.
One that would change everything.
It took two full days for the medication to wear off. Annie stayed inside during this time, working through the mild withdrawal symptoms, and she awoke on the third morning with a loud gasp, her cunt already wet. When she reached down to touch herself it was like she’d never masturbated before. The sensitivity was incredible. She came in minutes, whimpering quietly, alone in the bedroom. Heat boiled in her chest, power soaring through her veins, something hungry and unnamable overcoming her. She had a plan.
She knew how she could make this work.
It didn’t take her long to find her target. Her nature was to be a huntress, to use her body as a weapon, to manipulate the hearts and minds of humans for her own ends– so, finding a pervert who deserved to be drained of life was an easy task. She dove into news reports, followed trends of disturbing events and declining grades among female students, the occasional teenage pregnancy that had been quietly aborted and never spoken of again. The trail, plucked by her expert hand from the obscurity of barely-reported incidents, led her to a school a mere hour away. She staked the place out one sunny Wednesday, wore a pedestrian pantsuit, dampened her attractiveness so that she could fade into the background as easily as any other soccer parent.
She had her phone out, talking incessantly into it, checking her watch every now and then like she was waiting for a stubborn child to come get into her family-sized minivan. But her attention was directed elsewhere.
The principal was out of his office, amongst the students, all those girls with their innocent smiles and modest uniform dresses. He shook hands with their parents, patted them condescendingly on the head, touch lingering just a little too long, but not long enough that any other observer would envision that grip tightening, holding those little girls’ heads still while he did unspeakable things to them. He looked so normal. Average. Bland, boring, passably attractive in a middling way, nobody you’d notice even if you looked twice.
Annie held her phone tighter. A feeling was beginning to seep through her, some kind of supernatural instinct bright in her veins like the burning of an unreal sun, blooming and boiling, simmering like the most sinful temptation. She was going to kill him. She was going to hurt him.
And all she needed to do that was her body.
She got back into her car. The windows were tinted, and she continued to dull her allure, pressing back on her invisible, soundless mating call until it would be most opportunistic. She was unseen, like this. Concealed among the humans. Now that she had a grip on her abilities, it was easy to manipulate. Deceive. Lie. The incident on the train would not be repeated, as delicious and shocking it had been to play that game. She was in control, now.
Annie undressed quickly and efficiently, cramped into the backseat of her car. What followed was nothing short of a transformation.
She replaced her lacy adult lingerie with a training bra and pink-striped panties. She slipped into a formless dress, the same design and fabric that the girls outside were wearing. It wasn’t just that she was wearing the clothes; her body was changing, morphing faster than could be observed, her broad hips slimming, her breasts shrinking smoothly down as if she was only just approaching her womanhood, hands dainty and small as she did up the buttons of the dress. By the time she reached up to tie her hair into pigtails, there may as well have been a sixteen-year-old girl perched prettily in the back of that very car. She caught her own gaze in the rearview mirror, wide blue eyes that knew nothing, pretty eyelashes that fluttered above lightly freckled cheeks.
She was thrilled that shapeshifting had come as naturally to her as she’d hoped it would. What better way to capture a pervert than by making the bait as enticing as possible? She was the epitome of his fantasies, his disgusting nymphet obsession, the far less romantic reality of Lolita.
She was the predator now. Little red riding hood, arching beneath the wolf, knife embedded in his side, her pretty smile full of blood. Annie grinned, watched the girl in the mirror reply with a beaming expression.
She was hungry.
It was time to feast.
Annie got out of the car, steps flouncing with obvious enthusiasm, pigtails bopping cutely. Still invisible to those around her, she walked right up to that principal, craning her neck upwards now so that she could look at him.
“Mister,” she said imploringly, a stranger’s voice falling from her lips, high-pitched and youthful, “Can you give me directions?”
He looked down, at first disinterested, then he froze. A deer in the headlights. A target of her influence. His gaze slackened as she sent the full force of her power slamming into him, taking hold of his mind, igniting every spark he had to work to keep under control, every instinct that whispered filthy thoughts about his underage students. She smiled brightly at him, and when he smiled back, it was apparent that he had made a decision. His inhibitions were gone, and Annie felt viciously pleased, exhilarated by the knowledge that all the girls at this school would soon be saved, and she was the savior.
“Of course I can,” he said, kneeling down in front of her like a loving father, his attention focused entirely on her, “Where do you need to go?”
“To the principal’s office, sir,” she explained, clasping her hands politely, “My daddy says I’m to start school here tomorrow, but my enrollment has gone all wrong. I have to speak to the principal.”
The man’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe his luck. This delicious creature with golden blonde hair standing before him like a gift-wrapped present, his every foul wet dream manifested in a short dress and pigtails.
“Well, you’re in luck, I’m the principal of this school!” He smiled, reaching forward to take her hand, grip encircling her tiny palm. “How about you come to my office, and I get this mess sorted out, hmm?”
She nodded excitedly. “Okay! Thank you, sir!”
He stood, still holding her hand, and led her away, thinking he was in control.
He took her to his office, locked the door behind them. His heart was hammering rapidly in his chest, the nervousness of whether he could follow through on his darkest dreams, the things he’d told himself he didn’t want. She could smell his fear, his arousal, his exhilaration. She could taste him in the air, like a vampire could taste blood for miles, sense every shift and change in his mood. She perched on a chair, kicking her legs, hands folded in her lap, appearing to be nothing more than a girl. But she was a monster. A demon. A killer. Her pretty smile hid teeth that could break his skin and tear his flesh, and those big eyes were the last thing he’d see before he died.
He sat down at his desk, smoothing his tie, trying to calm himself. She watched him as if ignorant of the internal argument he was having with himself.
“Okay, how about you tell me your name, and I look it up to see what’s going on with your enrolment,” he told her in syrupy and patronising tones, “then we can get all this sorted out, okay?”
“Okay! My name is Lanie Smith, mister.”
He pretended to type her name into the system. “Is your daddy coming to pick you up today, Lanie?”
“No,” she chirped, “My daddy has to work. I’m catching the bus home after this.”
The principal nodded. Trying to stay calm, trying to keep his excitement from showing. “It seems your name’s not in our system. I’m sorry, but I don’t think you can attend school tomorrow.”
Her face fell. The scared face of a little girl who wanted to make her daddy proud.
“But… But daddy said that I was enrolled here…”
“Your name isn’t here. You’ll have to tell him there was a mistake.”
“But daddy,” her voice broke into a sharp inhalation, tears blooming in her bright eyes, “Daddy gets so cross when things go wrong. I don’t want to tell him, I…”
The principal sat back in his chair. “There is probably one way we could get you enrolled. A favor you could do, for me.”
She blinked at him, eager. “Yes, please! Anything!”
He was sitting very still. Hardly able to believe he was really speaking these words. Really doing what he had imagined himself doing for so long. Annie watched him from inside Lanie, inside the persona she’d adopted, hungry for his weakness, for his perversion, for his sickness. She was going to use it against him. Give him the death he deserved.
“Stay in your seat.” He stood, taking off his tie.
She looked up at him, lips pouted, a curious expression on her face. “Why?”
The principal looked down on her. Without explaining further, he reached for his belt, sliding the buckle free. She watched his hands, confusion evident.
“What… What are you doing?”
“You said ‘anything’. This is the favor you must do for me. You want to be enrolled, don’t you?”
He unzipped his jeans. Tugged down the front of his underwear.
“Yes,” she replied, voice small, “I do, but…”
He took out his hardening cock. At the sight of it, she tried to stand and flee the room, but he forced her back down into the chair with a firm hand on her shoulder. She had begun to cry again.
“Mister, I don’t want to-”
“You will call me sir, you little whore,” he hissed, “Open your mouth.”
Sobbing, she did. He shoved his cock into her mouth, relishing the way she choked, pink lips so luscious and young. He grabbed her pigtails and immediately began fucking her throat, the back of her head slammed against the back of the chair, her legs drawn up against her chest, hands flailing out to press against his thighs, try and hold him back, stop him.
“Fucking slut, yeah,” he groaned, “yeah, fuck,”
He let go of her hair, reached down and felt up under her dress, those small tits in that training bra. She squirmed, uncomfortable with being molested, gagging on his cock.
He kept going, thrusts vicious, faster and faster, the deviancy of his desires overtaking him. He’d wanted to do this for so long, held himself back so patiently, and now she was here. His dream, his fantasy.
But she looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears, cheeks hollowed around his cock, and something changed. He couldn’t look away from those eyes. There was a sound humming in his ears, a ringing, a piercing note that deafened him, pounding the inside of his skull, chipping at bone. Yet he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t make his hips stop thrusting. She looked up at him, the whole world fading away except her eyes, and he could swear he felt her arch into the grip of his hands, suck hard on his cock.
Sucking the life out of him.
The noise grew louder. Louder. Wetness in his ears, spilling down his cheeks, as his ears began to bleed. A heat was burning him from the inside-out, exploding, churning his guts, boiling his blood, eating away at his sanity like rat poison.
He fell to the ground in a convulsing heap.
Annie watched him gag and seize, cock softening now. Her dress was askew, buttons ripped, pigtails tugged loose by his large hands. For all the girls he would have hurt, and those that hadn’t been able to escape him, Annie watched him die. She felt his life force seeping into her, the taste of come salty on her tongue.
Then, he was dead.
Chapter 9: public molestation, implied gangbang, minotaur
Shedding the identities was just as easy as adopting them. The lies fell away like gossamer, nothing left to cling to her or mar her perfect skin, eyes shining bright without guilt or worry to distract her. If she had to kill, if she had to fuck and dominate and use her body as a weapon, best she do society a favour too.
“I hear you’ve been busy,” her boyfriend noted one day on the phone, “The police are reporting on mass deaths among sex trafficking suspects.”
Annie smiled, delighted. “Awesome, isn’t it?”
She was met with silence.
“Look, baby, it… It is awesome. I love the fact that you’re using this for good.”
“So you’re not jealous?”
“Jealous? No. No, it’s… You need to be careful. That’s all.”
Annie had frowned to herself, confused by the genuine worry in his tone. “Why’s that?”
“You’re a succubus. Deadly to humans, but not to other monsters. Not every wolf out there is like me. Not every monster is sub-human. Some are just… feral. And, if they find you…”
She had thought back to the ocean monster, waking on a beach, body rocked by thrusts, cocks filling her, molested and gasping. The perfect incubator for its young. The perfect cunt for breeding.
“I’ll be more careful,” she lied.
Electronic music blasted from the club’s speakers, pounding the floor and shaking the walls, bodies dancing so tightly together that it was almost claustrophobia-inducing. Annie swung her hips from side to side, arms semi-raised, dancing without a care in the world. She was wearing a white singlet that clung to her body and emphasised her breasts, every curve accentuated, and mini denim shorts that may as well have been panties for all they covered. They rode up into her ass as she danced, and her singlet was just see-through enough that her black lacy bra could be seen through it. Her hair was up in a loose bun, strands framing her face and sticking to her sweat-moistened skin, cheeks flushed with exertion and alcohol. Just another helpless girl, young and pretty, ripe for the taking.
Or, at least, that was what everyone else saw.
She had done her research on this place, hunted down newspaper reports of girls going missing around here, snagged by smooth-talking pimps and coerced into the sex trafficking business. Annie staggered to the side, pushed and jostled by the crowd, a hand grabbing her ass. She gasped, trying to push the man away from her, but he gripped her from behind, one hand reaching around to palm her pussy through denim, the other molesting her tits. People continued dancing around them, unaware what was happening.
“Hey, stop it, stop it,” she whined, words lost to the thumping music, writhing and trying to escape him, “Get off me,”
Another man appeared in front of her, pulling her away from the stranger protectively. She hunched into his side like she was oh-so-grateful for her rescuer, looking up through long eyelashes as the molester held up his hands in defeat, slipping away into the crowd. A classic play. Pose as the hero, have your business partner pretend to be the bully. Another pimp, most likely. They’d probably both be fucking her soon.
“Thank you,” she breathed, looking up at the middle-aged man who had “saved” her. He smiled, a mischievous edge to his grin that would have been missed by anyone who wasn’t looking for it, and escorted her towards the bar. She went along, stumbling and clumsy, pretending not to notice the guy looking down her singlet top, checking out the goods.
The music was quieter by the bar, and he bought her a drink. She swayed on a stool, eyes fluttering closed like she was too tired to notice the man’s hand move over the rim of her glass, a fizzing pill immediately falling to the bottom and dissolving into the liquid. He handed the drink to her, gentlemanly façade in place.
“Here you are, darling,” he said smoothly, “so sorry about that awful man.”
Within an hour she was walking out of the club, slipping out the side door like a shadow, pussy dripping with come, the inside of her shorts soaked, singlet over her bare chest. A group of men had fucked her in a back room, each one collapsing onto the floor as their hearts stopped beating, every subsequent man oblivious to the fates of his comrades. All they could see was her, legs spread, lips parted invitingly. When the last one shuddered himself into immediate cardiac arrest, Annie stood, retrieving her clothes from where they’d been thrown. She was absolutely satisfied by tonight’s conclusion, glad that her boyfriend’s prediction of danger had gone unmet.
She walked calmly away as chaos erupted inside the club, her luscious silhouette outlined by flashing police car lights. The night swallowed her up, and she disappeared, welcoming the obscurity of darkness as a friend.
Her bare feet made soft sounds against the gravel road, steps dainty and light, footfalls that would have gone undetected by any human observer. But her observer, who watched her so silently, was not human.
His eyes roamed the sodden material of her singlet, loving the way it clung to the curve of her breasts, nipples bouncing with every step. He watched the sway of her hips, the jiggle of her ass beneath the hem of cum-stained denim. Her blonde hair was undone and, despite the abuse from greedy hands, shimmered beneath the moon. She looked like a victim, a poor helpless human woman who had been through an ordeal, but he knew better. He’d lured her here, outsmarted the predator- who was, herself, hunting predators. The right tips leaked at the right time, the right names exposed, and she’d ended up right where he expected her to.
Human women were fine. They had been used by his people for pleasure and food since the simplistic origins of his species. But he was bored of the humans. As primal and raw as he was, he had intelligence beyond what his physical form indicated, and he had great respect for the succubi race. He didn’t intend to kill Annie. That would have been a waste of her talents, and he intended to repeat this encounter in the future.
He stepped from the shadows, beneath the bridge where he’d been so cleverly concealed. The moment his heavy hoof collided with the asphalt, loud and final as the strike of stone against metal, her head whipped around to investigate the source of the noise. Her eyes widened as she took in the full extent of him; his gigantic form, thick veined hands, thighs as large as tree trunks, muzzle pulled back from sharpened teeth into a hungry snarl, horns pointing upwards like the Devil, a unbelievably huge cock hanging between his legs.
She knew she couldn’t run. Small and afraid, eyes wide, she backed up against the bridge wall, off the side of the path, grass and dirt staining her bare feet. He advanced towards her, not yet growling, seeing no need to display dominance when she hadn’t attempted to escape him.
She licked at her lips, that rosy pink mouth still sticky with the semen of human victims. She was wasted on those lowlifes. The Minotaur intended to make full use of her body and abilities, whether she liked it or not.
“Please don’t hurt me,” She begged, voice small and childlike. Trying to appease him. He smiled, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek. She didn’t flinch away from him, but it was a near thing. Two of his fingers just about equalled the width of her arm. He salivated, just imagining his cock forced up that sweet cunt. He wondered how much he could stuff inside before she broke. He wondered how she would cry. Many succubi and incubi had bent for him willingly over his long life, but there was no time for a loving courtship. No, this was to be something far more brutal.
“No need to pretend for me, young one. I know of your kind. I have met many before. I do not intend to kill you.”
She exhaled sharply at his answer, an amount of relief in her expression. But she was still cornered with no means of escape, shivering in her almost-naked state as the night settled around them, craning her neck just to meet the gaze of this beast.
“What do you want?”
Her tone was more settled, this time. Afraid, yes, but not full of fake temptation. He preferred her this way. Honest. It would be better to conquer her that way, than as one of her many pretend faces.
His hand wandered. Down, to brush the backs of his fingers against her breasts, so small by comparison. She trembled, shoulders hunching.
“I will fuck you.”
Annie shook her head. “No. Please.”
“You do not have a choice. Your only choice is how painful you wish for this to be. How much you will resist. I can leave you alive, if you choose. Or I can destroy your body.”
His voice rumbled through the cavernous space, a gust of wind whirring by, making Annie shiver more. She was terrified, but the fact that this monster was discussing this with her at all was a sign that perhaps he was telling the truth.
“Time moves fast, little one. Decide, or I will decide for you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She glanced down at his cock, which was at least double a werewolf’s in size, and felt her mouth go dry.
“Speak up. I have no tolerance for simpering girls.”
“It won’t fit,” her voice wavered, but she tried to keep from sobbing in order to appease him, “Please don’t try to put that inside me,”
“I won’t, not entirely. I will spare you my full girth, if you do not fight. If you resist, I will force it inside. And you will perish.”
Her head swam. She felt dizzy, like she was going to fall over. She felt come drip down the inside of her legs, and almost slid down the wall in defeat, too frightened to think. But she had to say yes. She just had to. Or he would kill her.
Chapter 10: bestiality, minotaur, inflation, manhandling, noncon, size difference
If you're gonna leave a comment, apropos of nothing, asking that I fulfil your specific kinks in a future chapter, keep in mind that I never gave any indication that I take prompts. A comment blatantly demanding that I update will not be met with a response. I'm putting this stuff out on the internet for free, I have no obligation to keep writing. If you like this fic, feel free to say so, I'm touched whenever people take the time to leave an actual comment. That's the stuff that keeps me writing.
The moment that fateful word fell from her lips, she knew she was done for. The monster’s eyes narrowed with delighted intent, and he raised one giant hand, palm outstretched. The air seemed to ripple around him, an invisible force billowing out from his gesture, and she sensed some kind of intangible barrier settling around them. Sounds of traffic were silenced, distant sirens immediately gone, the whole world separated from them by a form of old magic.
“Nobody will disturb us,” the Minotaur informed her in rumbling tones, “Until I am done, you will not leave this space. Undress yourself now.”
Her lips quivered with a sob she only just managed to suppress, tears blurring her vision. She unzipped her shorts, tugged them down her thighs, kicked them away. The night air was cool against her wet pussy, soft thighs still itching from the bites and smacks of human molesters. She took hold of her singlet hem, lifted it, crossing her arms over her head. She threw the shirt aside, gaze downcast, naked now.
The Minotaur took hold of her body. Threw her down onto the grass.
Sprawled on her stomach, she gasped, shuddering from the impact. She parted her legs and tilted up her ass because she knew she would be commanded to, and fighting was useless, but all she wanted was to curl up on her side and cry. When the pad of one massive finger pressed against her cunt, it was at least as big as the werewolf cock that had split her open in the woods. A corrosive mix of emotions was swirling in her head, messing with her brain, the enormity of her rapist pushing her beyond the brink of insanity.
“You’ll kill me,” she whispered listlessly as his finger breached her, pushing up into her pussy with a wet noise, “You’ll break me apart…”
He began fucking her with his finger. The presence of him looming behind her was horrifying. His shadow engulfed her tiny form. She had never felt smaller. Just the movements of his hand caused her hips to rock back and forth, knees pressing into the dirt, tits swaying.
“You ought to have more faith, little one. I said I would not kill you. If you provide no resistance, if you do not fight… I will do nothing more than fuck you.”
She could feel him inside her. Violating her body.
This didn’t feel like mercy.
He added another finger. And then another. And then another, until all his giant fingers were pounding her dripping cunt, slick pouring down the inside of her legs, her body shaking from overstimulation and the force of his touch. She had lost her mind, she was sure of it. She’d tried to hold back, stay silent, survive this with as much of her dignity intact as possible, but it was a hopeless venture. He ignored her as she begged, ignored her when the broken string of ah, ah, uh, oh, oh, uh, turned into screams, helpless sounds that echoed off the underside of the bridge, ear-splitting in volume. He had clearly expected her composure to fracture, and didn’t seem bothered by it.
He grabbed her hips, flipped her, slamming her back down onto the ground. He wanted to see her face when he penetrated her.
She panted hollowly, arms splayed, fingers curled limply on the ground. Her blonde hair was dirtied by mud, green eyes empty, but when he pressed the huge tip of his leaking cock against her cunt, her instinct for self preservation kicked in. Apathy bled from her expression and was rapidly replaced by alarm. Terror filled her beautiful eyes, just the sight he’d been waiting to see, the pure fear of a victim who could do nothing to resist him.
“Please stop! Please! I’m not ready! Anything, I’ll give you anything, I’ll do anything, just not yet, not yet, just don’t…!”
He began to inch his hips forward.
“No, stop it! Stop it! It’s too big! It’s too big, you’re going to kill me, stop it, stop it!”
He kept pushing. She was sobbing now, shaking her head wildly from side to side, but he knew she’d enjoy this eventually. She was a succubus. All she needed was for the fucking to begin, and she’d adjust.
The bulge of his cock began to show through her slender stomach, the fleshy trunk of him lined up to fill her until she couldn’t breathe with it. Still, he kept going. Eventually, her pussy had stretched to accommodate his impossible size, the head of his Minotaur penis inside her, so large it almost appeared she was pregnant. Still, he kept going, fascinated by the pull of skin over her hips, the distortion of such a perfect form. Unlike the human women, she wouldn’t be tarnished by this. Her body would not be ruined. She would remain the perfect mating bitch.
Halfway inside. Just like he promised, he wouldn’t force his full length into her pussy. That would take training, years of magic that would rebirth her as his sexual slave, and there was no reason to irreversibly damage a perfect angel like this one with hasty mating sessions. He looked down at her, the blonde succubus who had now fallen silent, eyes unfocussed, plump lips parted, whole body wrapped around his cock like a sleeve, trembling.
He reached down to stroke her face, a tender gesture in the midst of this violence. She didn’t react, and he smiled fondly, amused at the youth of this girl. She would learn. This was the way of the monsters, the rite of ownership that had been reduced to mythology.
He began to fuck her.
Chapter 11: impregnation, bestiality, minotaur, inflation, noncon, size difference
He held her body with both hands, grip encircling her torso completely. Her head hung back, neck loose on her shoulders, mouth open wide, eyes closed. Her arms and hands were swinging wildly every time he ploughed into her, legs dangling on either side of his monstrous cock, a toy for him to use however he liked. This was barely even fucking. This was masturbation. He was using her tiny body to jerk himself off, the bulge of his cock barely even fitting inside her pussy, far bigger than a fist or an arm. When he pressed his thumb against her belly, he could feel the pressure on his cock, through her poor flesh.
He pounded her harder.
"Please stop, pl- please,"
The dim light of a nearby streetlamp shone, colouring the blackness of night, touching upon her sweat-moistened skin and her open mouth. Those lips were perfection. The slant of her face, the arch of her neck as she dangled limply from his grasp, her full bouncing tits, the sullied beauty of her shining blonde hair… She made the Minotaur think of ancient days, of succubi in sweeping robes, reclining on beds of silk as they were fed exotic fruits. Once, her people had been kings and queens, emperors and lovers, ruling whole armies by way of lustful hypnotism. She had that power within her. The Minotaur felt privileged to be a part of her story.
“Soon,” he grunted, the base of his cock tightening, ready to unleash an explosion of come into her, “You will no longer be daunted by challenges such as these.”
Knowing she was new to this life, he took pity on her, did what she lacked the presence of mind to do herself. She could enjoy this. He need only teach her. He pressed a finger against her pussy, swirling it, stroking her into arousal as he continued to plough her. A full-body shiver moved through her, a helpless blip of voice escaping her throat, eyelashes fluttering. She was so fucking pretty.
“That’s it,” he praised her, delighted by her reaction, “There is pleasure to be had, little one. You need only embrace it.”
He continued to stroke and pinch her, fucking her faster now. God, how he wanted to engulf his entire cock in her sweet, supple body, bury himself so deep she would never recover. But he was a monster of his word, and she was too beautiful to kill. She pushed weakly against his hands, trying to stop him from touching her, the slap slap slap of their brutal fucking made even wetter by the slickness that was starting to leak from her body.
“No, stop,” she begged.
“You are not very convincing,” he replied evilly, huffing out a laugh between thrusts, “Do you not feel the change?”
“No, please, stop, it- it hurts,”
"Does it? Are you sure?" He reached a hand beneath her head, cradling her body so that she had no choice but to meet the gaze of her attacker, his figure demonic in appearance, horns framing his huge head. She moaned helplessly, never having felt anything like the push and pull of something this big, his cock beyond anything she’d ever had forced into her cunt. With half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, drugged into senselessness, she looked into his dark eyes. It was clear that he could continue fucking her forever, and never tire.
He ignored her. She could feel a warmth blossoming in her pelvis, heat filling her veins, something primal sparking within her. Everything was slick and full and smooth, and she realised there was no more pain. He was moving so fast, the world lurching and slamming to a halt every time he forced her up and down his cock, but she liked it. She liked being used. She liked being forced by monsters. Having realised that this would not kill her, the rape was becoming pleasurable. It was twisted. Wrong. Had she been anyone else, a monster of any other variety or just an average human, she would be traumatised beyond understanding, mind fractured by this assault. But she loved it.
“Stop it, please,” she whined, desperate that he not know, “Stop it…”
He tipped his huge head back, groaning loud, bestial features contorted with violent enjoyment.
"Stop it, enough, please- Please-"
He began to pull out of her. She wailed at the sensation, such a huge thing being removed from her body, her insides sliding back into place as her stomach flattened. A mixture of her slick and his pre-come poured out of her in a gushed wave. He threw her to the ground once more, her body landing heavily in a puddle of viscous white liquid. He forced her onto her front, patience abandoned now, that giant cock pressing up against her cunt from behind. He pushed inside, the angle different, pressure stabbing at the inside of her belly as he jerked his hips determinedly forward, the bulge of him hammering against where her breasts were pillowed on the ground.
"Stop it! Stop it! It hurts! Stop it! STOP IT!"
But she knew he wouldn't, and even as she screamed, gagging on come when he pushed her head down, she knew what was coming next. Faster, faster, faster, until she was insane with it, unable to believe a creature could violate her so thoroughly. A roar shook the underside of the bridge, cataclysmic in nature, vibrating through her whole body, and then- then he was filling her with his seed, more liquid bloating the inside of her body than she would ever have thought possible, belly swelling from the amount. It exploded out of her, splashing between her legs.
A blissful emptiness overtook her. She slumped down onto the ground. She didn't feel the slow slide of his cock being pulled out, didn't feel the way her limp body was lifted by the motion, didn't feel her pussy gaping wide, a steady stream of white pouring from inside her and onto the ground. The Minotaur rolled her onto her side so that she didn't suffocate from the liquid. She offered no resistance, pliable and unresponsive. Her face was painted with white, her chest heaving with gasps for air, tits dripping wetly.
The Minotaur was satisfied.
Chapter 12: oral sex, size difference, manipulation, riding
She awoke in a room of silks and marble, laid out on a huge bed. It looked to be the inside of a palace, gilded edging decorating the bedposts, rosy lengths of glimmering fabric draped about the place, threaded through with extravagant hues of colour. Polished rose quartz stones were cluttered around, witch hazel and bluebells displayed in polished ceramic vases, slowly smouldering incense filling the air with exotic fragrances. Pillars held bowls of fire, the room lit by flickering orange.
In the centre of the room sat the Minotaur, a dark hulking mass in the midst of this opulent chamber, hair braided back off his sculpted face, emotionless eyes watching her. He was dressed in a loose robe, white fabric contrasting with his deep brown fur.
She sat up, and the silk sheet fell from her body, naked breasts exposed to the monster. She drew both arms across her chest, blushing.
“Your shyness, though I find it endearing, is not necessary,” the Minotaur told her, his rumbling voice not unkind, “Do not hide your beauty.”
Annie swallowed thickly. The Minotaur lifted a plate of fruit from where he’d been cradling it in his lap, offering it to her. She remembered those hands gripping her body, his cock inside her. When she shifted, she could feel an ache inside, but was surprised by the softness of it. It was no worse a feeling than the morning after being fucked by her boyfriend. The puddles of salty come, the bulge showing through her stomach, the jolt and shudder of her body as she was manhandled– it all seemed like a distant dream.
“What did you do to me?” She asked in a scared whisper. “I should be…”
“…in pain? No, my dear succubus. I admit my conquering of you was brutal, but you are stronger than you know. Now,” he nodded to the bowl, “Come, eat.”
“Where… Where are we?”
He sighed. “You are a guest in my home. The door behind me, it will take you back to your world once we are done. In the meantime, I insist that you eat.”
She watched him, unspeaking.
Anger curled in her gut, vicious and white-hot, a bubbling, seething sensation that overcame her, nestling itself between her legs; the righteous fury of a succubus, the biblical rage of Leda after her violation. Power surged within Annie, and she rose from the bed, propelled by a force she couldn’t name even if she’d wanted to.
She walked from the bed, gloriously naked, firelight dancing against her smooth skin. The Minotaur watched her, pleased, thinking her to be under his spell.
She lifted a peach from the bowl, not speaking. Her white teeth broke the lightly furred skin of the fruit, juice wetting her lips, dripping down onto her breasts. Sticky droplets moved down her skin, beading against her nipples. The Minotaur placed the bowl down on the floor, hypnotised by her. Blonde hair cascaded down, past her shoulders, framing her face; the very picture of loveliness.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
Annie climbed onto his lap, knees spread, tiny against his chest. She dropped the peach on the floor, petulant and childish, daring the beast to say anything. When he didn’t, offering an amused grin in return, she reached down between the folds of his robe, small hands curling around the girth of his cock.
He inhaled sharply.
She touched him as much as she was able, fingers not able to wrap fully around his giant penis, slender wrists moving sinuously with the motion. He played with her tits for a while, then got impatient, taking hold of her hair and yanking her head down.
“Enough playing,” he growled.
She pouted her lips against the tip of him, and even with her mouth stretched wide, she was unable to suck him properly. Waves of hair brushed her cheeks, obscuring her sultry eyes. He molested her breasts as she sucked at him, knowing that he would only allow this for a short while, then he would force her down onto the floor and fill her body with come once again.
She whimpered when his hand wandered down, two giant fingers pressing against her cunt. But the whined, breathy gasp turned to hitched laughter, muffled by the skin of his cock. She continued to suck, arching her body into the motion now, grinding against his fingers.
The Minotaur, so unused to discomfort of any kind, owing to his immortally powerful form, was shocked to feel a pull of nausea, the spin of a building headache. Every touch of her soft lips became an explosion of pain, agony so sharp and disarming that it sliced through him cleanly, no barrier left that could protect him from her. She looked up at him through curled eyelashes, tongue painting a wet stripe over his cockhead, and he realised he’d made a mistake. This wasn’t a succubus of old, wasn’t the kind of seductress to be willingly conquered now that she'd realised her power.
She was a new breed.
"Stop," he tried to say, the word getting lost in his panic.
Annie lifted herself up off his fingers, guided his huge cock inside her. In one swift motion, she slid down onto him, his impossible girth and length filling her body. Unable to move, he watched with horrified amazement as she rode him, the outline of him pressing up against her belly.
This should have been impossible.
She swayed and arched, tits bouncing, mouth open, gasping loudly. She felt her breasts, touched herself, used his body for her pleasure as he lay immobile, life bleeding from him.
An explosion of sensation built into an all-encompassing crescendo when she cried out, tipping her head towards the ceiling, body filled with the life force of a Minotaur as she orgasmed. He twitched, one final exhalation falling from his mouth, and she achieved utter bliss, colours and symphonies painting her mind with euphoria.
Eventually, she stood up, letting his cock fall from her, limp now that she'd drained him completely. His eyes were glassy, mouth slackened. She stared down at him, come moistening the inside of her thighs, and waited to feel regret. But she didn't.
She felt powerful.
Daryl was seated on his front porch, bent over a wooden table as he carefully constructed fishing lures. Rain was falling softly, tapping against his metal roof, and for once he felt pretty calm. He’d gotten clean recently, quit the booze, and his aim had gotten better with the rifle. He figured it was time to try his hand at fishing, the traditional way, now that he probably had the patience for it.
He was wearing a battered flannel and well-worn jeans, boots laced loosely up his shins, not dressed for company. He hadn’t expected to be seeing anybody today, and as he continued tying lures, cursing quietly when his hands slipped, his ears picked up the snapping of branches nearby. His head snapped up, immediately alerted to the presence of an intruder on his property, hands itching to grab a gun.
The lure that he had been holding, so precariously and gently between his fingers, clattered to the table.
Standing there, in the rain, was the girl who had been fucked by the wolfman.
The rain cascaded down her naked body, sluicing over her every curve, trailing from the angle of her bare collarbone, over her tits, down between her legs, and past her thighs. Her hair was darkened by water, plastered down over her face and neck, sodden strands clinging to her shoulders. She was shivering, hands folded against her breasts, peering at him with such pitiable desperation.
“Help me,” she pleaded, quiet voice getting lost in the downpour.
Daryl rose from his seat immediately, yanking off his flannel. He ran out to her, wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Come inside,” he said as comfortingly as he was able, trying to hold his gruffness at bay, totally unused to interacting with other people, “Quick, before you catch a cold.”
He made her a hot chocolate, sat her down on his lounge, got her some clothes. He couldn’t deny that he liked seeing her in his overlarge clothes, the fabric of his shirt settling loose over her tits, but looking didn’t feel the same now. He’d jerked off messily almost every night since that incident in the woods, but had felt guilty about it, worried for the girl’s wellbeing. Now that she was sitting here, curled in on herself in his cabin, he wondered where she’d been all this time.
“Are you…” he cleared his throat, unsure how to even begin broaching the subject, “Are you alright?”
She gazed at him blankly, water beading on her lashes, moist lips parted.
“Miss,” he tried again, “You’re… You had no clothes on. Have you… Did someone…?”
The girl placed the mug of hot chocolate down on the table, rose to her feet. Daryl went to stand too, but she held out both hands, palms against his shoulders. He settled down against the lounge, against his better judgement, when she lowered herself down onto his lap.
“Miss, you’re not well, you shouldn’t be…”
She lifted one single finger, placed it on his lips. He stared at her, unable to believe this was happening, that he could feel the warm press of her ass in his lap, the curve of her breasts through his borrowed shirt.
“I saw you,” she whispered, the first time he’d heard her voice since that night in the woods, “You liked watching me get fucked by the monster. You liked how I pretended to struggle.”
Daryl felt a pulse of shame move through him. He looked off to the side, but she cupped her hands around his jaw, turning him back to face her.
“I liked it,” she confessed, breathing the words against his closed mouth, “I liked you watching me.”
Her lips were so young and soft, and Daryl wanted her so badly. This was some kind of ludicrous sex fantasy, it couldn’t possibly be real– if Daryl hadn’t been sober he’d have been certain this was a hallucination. She moved in his lap, swivelling her hips, wet hair falling into her face. Despite his reservations, he reached up and brushed the strands back behind one ear.
She was so beautiful this close, and Daryl was so lonely.
“You want me?” She asked him, her sweet voice liltingly innocent. “You want me on all fours, like that beast had me? You want to hurt me? Hear me scream for you?”
Daryl looked at her. Felt her weight against his denim-covered cock.
And he thought about his daughter, who he had lost so many years ago to a car accident, and couldn’t do it. Couldn’t touch her the way that monster had, even though he wanted to. She was too close, too real, too young. He wanted to pull the clothes off her, slam her down onto the floor, and fuck her senseless. But he couldn't do it.
“I can’t,” he told her brokenly, more emotion breaking apart his words than he usually allowed, genuine emotion softening his grizzled façade, “You need to go. Or I’ll call you an ambulance. Whatever you want, just… Just not that.”
She stared at him, face unchanging. When she did eventually blink, she seemed genuinely astounded.
“You don’t want me,” she observed flatly. She stood, breasts swaying with the motion, frowning deeply. Daryl watched her from where he was hunched on the lounge, his cock straining against the crotch of his jeans. He felt old, broken, and tired, and thoughts of his daughter were filling him with regret.
“I’m sorry I didn’t help you,” he whispered, “That night in the woods, I should’ve… When I thought you were...”
The rain continued to fall outside as she watched him, an impossible presence in his usually-empty home, this angelic young woman. Daryl wanted to keep talking, but didn’t know what to say, especially as it retrospectively seemed that she had consented to the wolf mating. So he just stared at her, at a loss, waiting to see what she'd say next.
The confusion on her face eventually faded to reveal some kind of understanding, a soft compassion in her eyes, the touch of a smile against her lips. She stepped towards him, reaching out to press a small palm against his cheek. The gentleness of her touch, the affection in her eyes, hurt him in ways he couldn't explain. He had a gin-soaked heart, the hardened attitude of a widower, and nobody had shown him kindness in a very long time.
“Guess you’re a better man than I thought," she said.
Annie left the hunter slumped in his lounge, deeply asleep, dreaming of summer days spent with his wife and his daughter. She walked through the woods, still dressed in his clothes, cloaked by the darkness of night. She was amused by what had just happened. She'd left the Minotaur's world and come right here, hungry for more, the intensity of the monster's life force only making her stronger, more lustful. She needed a victim, and soon. She'd been sure the hunter would be the one to sate that need, but he apparently had more heart than she'd expected.
No matter, she thought, He was only a human. Wouldn't have been that satisfying.
Annie had two days until her boyfriend came back from his extended work trip, and she intended to make the most of that time. She needed a monster, she needed several monsters, that she could consume. She needed a group of assailants to pounce on her, claim her, fuck her pussy wet, so that she could lay back and moan like she hated the violation. She needed a target that had ferocity beyond anything else.
Annie stopped walking, freezing still. Behind her, accompanied by the hush of shifting branches, she heard a sound. A rumbling sound.
Her pretty lips curled up into an eager smile, the points of her canines showing.
This one got surprisingly emotional, huh. What can I say, Daryl ended up being a softie. Lotsa werewolf fucking and monster gangbangs in the next chapter, tho ;) Stay tuned, pervs. As always, please leave a comment if you have a spare second!
Chapter 14: bestiality, monsters, gangbang, size difference, inflation
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Deep within the woods, surrounded by his brethren, lounged a creature of immortal power and cruelty. He appeared human in all respects, leaned against a tree as he slowly sharpened his knife, white t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans. Around him, hulking masses moved, the furred bodies and giant limbs of countless other monsters. All the werewolves, all the orcs and the goblins, kept their distance. For all their might, their salivating ferociousness and their unbelievable physical vigour, they were nothing compared to their master.
He hadn’t needed posturing or any dramatic shows of strength to claim his place here. No scent clung to his body, and there was no blood pumping through his veins; his very presence was inconceivable to the other monsters, a blank space in their perception. His footfalls were silent, his flesh white and cold, no pulse ticking away below his skin. A walking corpse, eternally undead, ancient beyond the rise and fall of so many civilisations.
A werewolf had challenged him, only once. The dog had been feral, vicious, and insane. Its human nature was utterly lost. Upon the vampire’s recent arrival in the woods, it had tried to attack him, jaws closing around the immortal being’s neck with enough force that any other animal would have been crushed as easily as paper. The vampire had not even budged. The wolf’s body had collided with him, folding and collapsing like a car ramming into a street pole, struck dead by its own speed. Its bones shattered, one last whine falling from its throat before it fell to the ground, a limp pile of fur and flesh.
Since that day, the vampire had ruled these woods.
He was the king of all monsters, and no victim was taken without his permission.
On this night, he was patiently sharpening his knife, the ancient blade made razor-sharp by the edge of his whetstone. All was quiet. The woods creaked and settled, trees stretched high like wooden hands embracing the full moon, all the birds and smaller animals hidden away for fear of the monsters who ruled this place. The air was heavy with danger. All living beings knew to stay away.
Which was why the vampire was pleasantly surprised by the next development.
Thudding footsteps approached him and his army, the crowd of creatures around him beginning to hiss and growl with excitement as the crying of a human girl sounded in the distance. The vampire lifted his gaze, and was greeted with a pretty sight.
One of his orcs walked forward, naked and with an unsheathed cock that betrayed his excitement, a human woman draped over his shoulder. She was still dressed, kicking furiously in a futile attempt to escape, and the vampire was pleased to know that his underling had not fucked the woman without permission. Very good. That warranted a reward.
“Let me go! Let me go!”
The orc pulled her off his shoulder, and then deposited her on the ground. She lay there for a moment, dazed by the impact, gasping. She was magnificent, and the vampire was surprised to feel a pull of arousal deep in his gut. He didn’t want, didn’t desire. Not since he had been turned, many centuries ago. Men, women, those that were neither, other monsters… Nobody appealed to him. But this beautiful girl, lying helpless in the midst of all these beasts, made him remember what it was to feel.
He mediated on this for a moment, as the girl slowly sat up, trembling, breaths coming faster and faster as she realised the severity of her situation. Wolves growled and paced, and orcs stroked themselves, apparently just as hungry for her body as the vampire was.
She peered fearfully around, crying. “Please let me go, please…”
The vampire smiled. He met the lust-maddened gaze of the orc who had brought him such a delicious prize, and nodded. Giving his permission.
The orc grabbed her feet, hoisted her into the air. She screamed, dangling upside down, flailing about.
“No! No, stop it! No!”
His huge fingers grabbed at her clothes, ripping them cleanly off, discarding them without care. The moment she was completely naked, he straightened her up, pulling her body around like a ragdoll. Before she could even offer a coherent protest, the head of his massive orc penis found its mark, pressing between her smooth thighs. He yanked her whole body down, cock filling her completely, stuffing her absolutely to the brim.
The monsters rushed about excitedly, small fights erupting among them as they became territorial, knowing that– provided she survived long enough– they’d be mating her after the orc was done. The vampire ignored their growling and yelping, fascinated by the girl’s violation, the way the cock inside her stretched her belly. The orc pulled her up, tugging his cock almost out, grunting with satisfaction.
“It hurts! Let me go!”
The orc yanked her down again, and she continued to scream. The fucking began in earnest, huge green balls slapping against her tiny ass, her tits bouncing with every brutal thrust.
“Stop it! STOP IT!”
Her every cry was a blessing to the vampire’s ears, her defilement more magnificent than any he had seen.
“Stop it, please, please, please-”
She was so gorgeous, intended for carefree summer days and gardens of leisure, an angel gifted to him on this dark night. Such a perfect body, flawless and creamy white, the pink softness of her pussy further reddened by the stretch of this abuse, tempting mouth open wide as she begged.
“Take it out! Take it out! You’re hurting me!”
Tears spilled down those perfect cheeks, more precious than diamonds, and the vampire was beginning to feel something he never before had. He wanted to see her broken. Ruined. Utterly destroyed. He wanted to see her pinned beneath the weight of all these monsters, fighting to break free, slender wrists held to the ground by gnarled claws, tits bouncing with every jolt and thrust. He wanted it to go on for hours, days, however long it took for every one of these creatures to fill her cunt with their seed.
He wanted these beasts to destroy her.
More nasty to come, folks. (Heh, get it. Come.
I'm not funny.)
Chapter 15: bestiality, monsters, gangbang, size difference, inflation, impregnation
Because this fic is getting a wider readership as I continue updating, I’d like to repeat something: dark kinks and rape fantasies are common among many folks, but that doesn’t mean the individuals themselves actually want to be assaulted. Victim blaming and assault is NEVER okay. I write this stuff because I’m a kinky, sex-positive, horny, bisexual bastard, and I love people (especially women) fulfilling their sexual fantasies. That’s why Annie is the one driving this story; because, despite the nature of this fic, I wanted to give her agency. THE POINT IS that I know the difference between fantasy and reality, and I’d be happy to help a woman explore her darkness, but only with explicit consent. I sincerely hope everybody who is reading understands this, too. As long as your moral compass is intact, please do continue reading this smutty fic with no hesitation! Always remember: consent makes it sexy, folks. Fantasy fics are one thing, but actual BDSM and roleplay has rules you MUST follow. Thank you to everyone who has left a comment so far!! Y'all legitimately keep me writing.
The orc came inside her, slamming her body down onto his cock, roaring as she screamed. He stayed inside until she was trembling with it, panting for air, body nearly crushed by the grip of his hands, hanging limply where she was held. When he pulled out, his come gushed from her, much to the humiliation of the girl. He put her down on the ground, and she immediately slumped over, collapsed into a heap. The orc wandered off, satisfied, while the vampire regarded her with interest. He was spellbound by her bruised beauty, amazed that she was still alive. In all his centuries of immortal travel, he had ceased to be surprised by anything. She was achieving the impossible, in so many ways.
He placed his hand against the flank of a werewolf. It had won the fight for dominance amongst its brothers, other beasts slinking away to wait their turn, and the vampire intended to reward strength.
“Take her,” he ordered quietly, the command of his voice leaving no room for disagreement, “but do not kill her.”
Hearing this, the girl sobbed, shoulders heaving with despair. The vampire itched to take her away, wanted her all to himself, but he desired her ruination first. Not only did he need to know she was a survivor, he also wanted this. The destruction of something beautiful. He wanted to be a voyeur to her suffering. The wolf leapt forward, strong legs carrying it to her in one smooth motion. It stood over her, snout exploring her body, tongue licking at the come and saliva that glistened against her skin. The beast had never lived among humankind, having been raised by monsters. All it knew was power and dominance, the morality of sex utterly irrelevant. Perhaps it had once been a man, a filthy child of these woods, but those days were long since gone. The girl could not plead with this monster, could not reason with him. It was going to rape her, and she could not stop it.
The vampire was deliriously excited by the prospect.
“Please, no more, no more, no, please,” she was begging, barley able to hiccup the words, hands pressed over her pussy in a futile attempt to stop the wolf from tasting her, “Stop it, please, no,”
Her protestations were weak, throat rubbed raw by screams, body already thoroughly violated by the orc. When the wolf placed a large paw on her chest to keep her still, she simply lay there and cried. The wolf forced its cock into her cunt in one violent push, growling with pleasure, the hideousness of its huge animal body only made more apparent by her loveliness. Its fur was matted, its teeth yellowed and jagged, leathery skin scarred by a lifetime of violence. She was a porcelain doll, a perfectly formed victim with shining blonde hair and delicate features. Such exquisite prey. That smooth skin, those bouncing tits, her tiny body dwarfed by the wolf’s form… The vampire could watch this forever, and never tire of her.
She was perfection.
As the wolf fucked her, her belly rose and fell, its length forced up inside her. The vampire imagined her pregnant, imagined the seed of these beasts flowering inside her, what infants she would birth. He liked the idea.
“I shall keep you,” he murmured, “I shall see you swollen, still taking these beasts inside you.”
She didn’t reply, lying helpless as she was fucked.
The wolf filled her up, too, howling triumphantly as it did so. The girl did not react, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed, her hands curled limply on the ground. Her head lolled from the impact of the wolf’s thrusts, and when it pulled out, she simply let come spill from her pussy, not even flinching.
The vampire walked to her, laid a hand against her slender neck. Still alive, still breathing. Oh, how he ached to taste her, to bite her, sink his teeth deep enough to find bone. He wanted to tear her apart.
But not yet.
He stepped away from her, waving a crowd of monsters forward. They pounced on her, a writhing mass of crazed bodies, her legs spread and outstretched to make way for those who would rape her, huge hands gripping her thighs, a cock shoved between her lips, the fucking commencing without hesitation. The sound they made was obscene, wet sounds of sex combined with the rabid insanity of bestial lust. He could barely see her for all the monsters, but that didn’t matter. He leaned against a tree, resumed sharpening his knife.
He would see whether she survived long enough to deserve being tasted by him.
Twilight crept upon the night, the fingers of sunrise creeping through the woods and brightening the landscape, exposing the consequences of the girl’s trespass onto monster territory. The orcs, wolves, ogres, and beasts had all fucked her, but she still wasn’t free. Goblins, human-sized beings who went about the woods unclothed, were fucking her holes with wild unrestraint, driven crazy by their waiting all night. They cackled and shrieked with delight as they defiled her, and she took it without resistance, barely even conscious now.
The vampire had grown bored.
Thankfully, he had patience beyond mortal understanding, so did not have much longer to wait before the goblins were slinking off, elated to have had their fun.
She was curled on her side, belly bloated from come, whole body shining with fluids, all the more beautiful now that she had been adorned with this violence. Her closed eyes fluttered in sleep, her poor lips puffy and abused, begging to be kissed. Her breasts had been groped and tugged, cocks sliding between them, come splattered over her chest. The vampire went to her, laid a hand on her head, delighted by how silky her hair remained. Her eyelashes, fine and thin as wheat strands, enticed him. She deserved praise, worship, admiration, paintings in her honour, armies of soldiers to fight for her attention… And her goddess-like existence only made her abuse more spectacular.
The vampire smiled, inhaling her scent. He was hungry.
And now, he would feast.
Chapter 16: daddy kink, consensual noncon, swimsuit, impregnation, choking
This chapter contains breathplay, which should only be explored with experienced partners, and in very carefully controlled situations. Restriction of oxygen can be dangerous, and many BDSM professionals advise avoiding breathplay altogether. To read more about breathplay, please see this link.
That day, everything changed.
The vampire had dominion over his army, a psychic grip on their minds, an eternal link that would trap them in servitude for as long as they lived. His presence was tangible, a looming aura that could always be felt, no matter where he was. But after he carried the victim away, her limp, fragile body cradled in his arms, the wind changed. His shadow upon the landscape, his unending reign, was abruptly ended. His faithful beasts, his bloodthirsty monsters, were all freed from his control.
With bated breath and alert ears, they all ran to the corner of the forest where he had carried the girl. Where the beasts had expected to find the prone body of a human female, drained of blood and lifeless, they instead found the marble-white remains of their master. Beside him, she stood.
Their new master.
She was naked, as they had all left her, but she was no sobbing victim. Her chin was tilted up in an arrogant, cold, righteous posture. Her eyes were shining, an otherworldly strength emanating from her body. The wolves, the orcs, the beasts, the goblins, the ogres– they all knelt and lay before her, foreheads to the ground, heads bowed. They knew what had happened, what she had done to their ruler.
They knew it would be done to them too, if they didn’t submit.
Daniel worked as a diplomat, mediating international werewolf-human relations. Now that lycanthropy was becoming more understood, attacks were less frequent, and he was fighting to get laws passed which would ban the hunting of his community. His argument was that, if governments wouldn’t subsidise suppression medication, then wolves couldn’t be blamed for the risks they faced on a monthly basis. If they were functional members of society every other day, that was worth something. They couldn’t be blamed for how they were born.
It was exhausting work, but somebody had to do it.
He arrived home, back at his and Annie’s house, generously tipping his Uber driver. He was fucking glad to be back here. He wholeheartedly believed in his mission, he really did, but Annie helped him stay true to himself. He’d only been able to control his condition once he could occasionally blow off steam by deliberately transforming. He didn’t need the suppressants anymore. But he couldn’t tell anybody that, because that would be legal grounds to oppose progress. He’d be painted as a danger to society, and probably forcibly separated from Annie.
“Annie?” He unlocked the door, discarded his keys on the front mantle. “Annie, you home?”
He went to the kitchen, switched on the kettle, dropping his duffel on the kitchen bench. When Annie did emerge out into the kitchen, he froze still, immediately aware that something had changed.
Annie didn’t look real.
She was wearing one of his overlarge shirts, and nothing else. Her hair was undone, long and blonde, silky like she’d just stepped from the glossy pages of a magazine. He was hypnotised by the shape of her face, the curve of her breasts beneath loose fabric, the way his shirt settled against her cocked hip. She’d put on a little weight since he’d been gone, cheeks rounder, thighs thicker, breasts larger– and he liked it. Fuck, he liked it. She looked like a goddess. An angel. A dream. This was more than just appearance, more than just a beautiful woman; he was looking at a fully-realised succubus, a disrobed queen, the kind of woman who could have started wars and ended dynasties.
“Annie,” he breathed, “You’re…”
She smiled somewhat self-consciously, the expression magnificent beyond description. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, ducking her head down. Daniel watched her, absolutely lost for words.
“Danny, I… I have something to tell you.”
They sat on the couch, and she explained everything. All the lives she’d taken, the monsters that had tried to subdue her, the power she now possessed. Hundreds of beasts, prowling and lurking on the woods, unable to refuse whatever whim or demand she sent their way.
“Obviously, I don’t want this to change us,” she whispered, “You and me, we’ve always been so good, and just because I’m like this doesn’t mean…”
He reached out, slid his hand onto her thigh. He could feel it, feel the power humming beneath her skin, the life force of a Minotaur, the centuries of strength that had bled from that vampire’s body into hers. He inhaled slow, resisted the urge to bow down to her, the wolf instinct that said she was his ruler now.
Well, he supposed it had always been this way. He’d always loved her. He’d always done everything she wanted, and she’d never abused that gift. He fucked her hard because that’s what she wanted. He held her down and bruised her wrists because she liked it. He cuddled her afterwards, kissed her deep, because he wanted to be close to her, know she was alright.
“Annie…” he began quietly, meeting her eyes with a grin, “This doesn’t change anything.”
She blinked at that, surprised. “But babe, I’m…”
“You’re what? Powerful?” He shifted closer to her, hand wandering up her thigh, fingers stroking beneath that t-shirt, caressing the dip below her hipbone. “You think that intimidates me?”
She watched him carefully, as if waiting for a lie. When she clearly didn’t see one, her expression relaxed into a smile, relief softening her features. He loved her so much.
“You’ve always been more powerful than me,” he whispered, “What kind of man would I be if I minded that? I like that you’re so strong, baby. I want you to be your own woman. That’s who you’ve always been. You’re…”
She took his face between her hands, and kissed him. It was a gentle peck, a tender press of lips, the most sincere touch.
He ached for her.
They hovered there for a moment, breathing each other in, overcome by their mutual devotion. When Annie shifted closer to him on the couch, Daniel took hold of her waist, deepening their kiss. She licked into his mouth, tongue silky and hot.
After a while, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a trapped bird, Daniel felt himself getting hard. Annie slid her hand down the front of his shirt, feeling his chest, palm curling around the bulge in his jeans. He touched her, too, feeling how wet she already had gotten.
“I love you,” she told him, such a sacred sentiment paired with the press of her hand against his dick, “I love you so much, baby,”
“I love you too, Annie, god,”
“Show me, baby. Please, I’ve been thinking about it the whole time you’ve been gone,” she arched her hips towards him, driving his fingers deeper into her cunt, “Please, I need you to,”
“Yes, fuck,” he breathed, “Anything for you.”
His hand was pressed hard against her mouth, broad palm silencing her cries for help, muffled wailing swallowed up by the hush of the still-running shower. She was wearing only her black swimsuit, made sodden by steaming water, clinging to every curve and dip of her young body. He held her in place using his body weight, pushing her up against the shower wall, her tits pressed against glass. He kept one hand wrapped around her mouth as she frantically struggled, the other darting down to grasp the crotch of her swimsuit, tugging it to the side. As much as he wanted to grope and molest her, feeling up her breasts and pussy, he didn’t have time for that. He needed to get his cock inside her.
He grabbed the base of his dick, angled it towards her cunt. The moment she felt it touch her, she thrashed wildly, arms flailing, smacking against him without much aim. Frustrated, he let go of her mouth and grabbed both of her wrists in one hand.
“No, no, no, please, no-”
“Stay still,” he breathed, words whispered against her ear with delighted perversion, “It’ll hurt more if you struggle, pretty girl.”
She whimpered, writhing but unable to escape.
“Please don’t, please don’t, please…!”
Her voice rose in pitch, frightened pleas that turned him on, as he started to push into her. He wasn’t careful or gentle, jabbing his hips forward cruelly, thrusting into her hard. Every time he did, her body was swayed by the motion, breasts pressing against the glass. On an impulse, he reached around her body, grabbing the straps of her swimsuit and pulling them towards her sternum, tugging the seams down past her breasts. Now she was exposed, tits and pussy out while he raped her.
“Take it out, daddy please, take it out-”
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he groaned, pumping his hips aggressively, “love the way your pussy feels, baby girl, you’re so good for daddy,”
“No! No, no, no, daddy stop, please,”
He kept fucking her, harder than he’d ever fucked anybody. She cried and begged for him to stop, but her tears were lost to the shower’s steady stream, and he couldn’t fucking believe how tight and perfect she was. Her plump hips banged against the glass, swimsuit pulled tight between her ass cheeks, and he wished he’d set up a fucking camera, wished he could see her breasts banging against the steam-moistened glass from the other side.
“Such a fucking whore, yeah, fuck, feel so good,”
“It hurts,” she sobbed, “Daddy…”
“It’ll feel good, baby girl, I promise,”
“No, no, no-”
“Shh. Shut up. Just listen to daddy, yeah?” He crooned the words with false affection, hips still hammering at a brutal pace. “Just give in, you’ll like it, you’ll like it- fuck yeah, god yeah, fuck,”
“Daddy, no! Stop!”
She struggled again, managing to get her hands free from his grip. She lurched to the side, trying to escape, pushing the shower door open. Furious, he grabbed her waist, sending them both tumbling onto the ground, his body weight slamming her down against the tiles. She gasped, still for a moment. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, breaking character;
“You okay, babe?”
Annie smiled, cheek pressed against the floor. She was delirious with arousal, thrilled that this roleplay scene was going exactly the way she’d asked. “I’m good, baby. I’m good. Fucking rape me, please…”
He kissed her, briefly, unable to keep from expressing his affection. Then he straightened up, romance over. He shoved his cock in her pussy again, pinning her down, trapping her where she was sprawled. She screamed, reaction so extreme anybody else would have thought she was in genuine distress.
“Stop it! Please, daddy, stop! You shouldn’t be doing this, daddy-”
“You asked for it,” he hissed, “Walking around in that fucking bathing suit, what did you expect daddy to do?”
“No, no, daddy,” she wailed, “I just wanted to be pretty, daddy, please stop,”
“Shouldn’t look so sexy if you didn’t want to be fucked, you whore,”
“Stop it, daddy!”
He fucked her hard, grabbing at her tits now that he didn’t have to hold her against a wall, copping a thorough feel as he thrust his hips wildly. She was heavenly, truly the best cunt he’d ever fucked, slick and warm and soft.
“Daddy’s wanted you for so long,” he groaned, “Baby, I won’t last, gonna fill you up, gonna come inside you,”
“No! Daddy, you can’t! Please don’t come inside me!”
“Feel so good, baby, fuck yeah,”
“Stop it! Stop it!”
He thumbed her nipples, groping her plump breasts, thrusts becoming erratic as he lost more and more control, dizzy with how good this was, how much he wanted to spill inside her perfect young body.
“Yeah, fuck, getting all loose for me,” he panted the words against her cheek, fucking her hard, relishing the squelching slickness of her pussy, “Hear that, pretty girl? You’re so wet, so wet for me, such a fucking whore,”
“No, daddy, no,” she sobbed, “Please don’t come inside me, I’m just a little girl…”
“Just a little girl, yeah, fuck, you want it so bad,”
“No! No, don’t!”
“Yeah, you want it, you want it, you want it-”
“Stop it! Stop it! Please, daddy!”
“Fuck yeah, fuck,”
“Take it out!”
He straightened up, grabbing her neck with both hands now, fucking her so hard that her ass was bouncing, his pelvis slapping against her skin. She tried to fight back as he choked her, hollow gasps and bitten-off whimpers, words swallowed by the pressure on her throat. Her cheeks became flushed, such a pretty pink, head lolling as he thrust into her body.
“Fucking helpless little bitch, can’t even fight back,”
Her eyelids were dipping down, lashes thick with tears, eyes unfocussed. She’d never been more beautiful.
“Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come inside you,”
He squeezed her neck as his hips stuttered to a final, brutal thrust, fingers tightening until he was white-knuckled. She choked out what could have been a protest, but could do nothing further than twitch as he filled her with hot, viscous come. He stayed inside her, yelling and grunting, pounding the last of his seed directly into her womb.
When he did pull out, it spilled from her. He let go of her neck, satisfied now, and she gasped desperately for air, trembling, limp on the bathroom floor.
He washed her clean with a damp hand towel, cleaned her body lovingly, carried her back to their bedroom. He lit her favourite candles, delicious orange-scented ones that he'd bought her last Christmas, and they settled down into bed. She curled against him, wrapped up in a fluffy dressing gown, snoozing peacefully. He stroked his fingers over her shoulder, idly playing with the gown's woolly fabric.
"Mm," she replied, groggy and half-asleep.
"Can I ask you something? Why do you... Why do you like that sort of stuff?"
"What," she mumbled, face pressed into his shoulder, "Daddy kinks?"
"Not that specifically, just... domination. I know we've talked about it before, I'm just curious."
She sighed, cuddling him closer. He kissed her forehead in apology.
"If you don't want to talk about it..."
"No, it's okay," she murmured, "It... feels good to let go. I trust you, so I can show you that side of me. No games, no... succubus stuff... Just raw, primal connection. Vulnerability."
Her voice was becoming steadily more and more slurred, her tiredness evident. Daniel wrapped his arms around her, and settled in to sleep.
Everything was peaceful.
Chapter 17: trans man, swinging, phalloplasty
The next few chapters will feature two dudes having sex, one of whom is a trans man. If this isn’t what you’re into, feel free not to read it, but don’t fuckin complain that I’ve included an FTM guy, or say anything else gross. Leaving transphobic comments is a quick way to guarantee I will stop writing, so just think twice before you decide to be an asshole. There are plenty of bodies and sexualities out there, and porn is for everyone. If you don't want to read this, then don't.
THAT ASIDE, if you’re interested in trans male sexuality, see this interview. Ash’s experience isn’t the same as all FTM experiences, but he offers some pretty good insights. If you’ve never been told this before, there is scientific evidence to explain transgender experiences, and multiple groups have proved that trans people have gendered structures in the brain that are contrary to their bodies. And yes, trans men can have cocks.
Daniel couldn’t decide whether everything had changed, or stayed utterly the same.
In many ways, Annie was the same girl he’d fallen in love with. She was as kind, communicative, gorgeous, and horny as ever. They bickered over the small stuff, like all couples do, but otherwise had a peaceful home with very few disputes. Daniel was relentlessly busy emailing, phoning, and writing letters, constantly advocating for his people and arguing with anti-lycanthrope politicians. Now that she had her condition under control, and had been sated by the creatures she’d consumed, Annie went back to work too. She worked two jobs, waitressing at a café and re-shelving books at the local library, and it was so easy to pretend they were a normal couple.
In reality, they were anything but.
Annie could suppress her abilities through sheer force of will, hiding in plain sight, as if she were just a normal young woman earning a paycheck. She was gloriously attractive, uninspiring uniforms doing nothing to dampen her shapeliness, but other than that she went largely unnoticed by customers. Locals would hunch over coffees, whispering about the mysterious creature that had tamed every beast in the woods, not knowing that the pretty blonde pouring their refills was far more than she appeared.
When they went grocery shopping, they seemed like any other couple. Daniel, with his tawny curls and freckled face, tucked into a knitted sweater and well-worn jeans, appearing about as inoffensive as any man could. Looking at him, no person would ever imagine him morphing into a furious beast, teeth sharp enough to snap bone, claws biting into the flesh of victims. And the girl that walked beside him, arm looped casually through his, seemed so normal too. A tad more beautiful than many, but normal nonetheless. Nobody could have imagined her in the woods, legs elegantly folded as she sat atop a faithful wolf’s back, crowds of monsters waiting devotedly for her commands. The monsters ate, slept, fucked, and fought when she ordered them to, with delighted willingness every time. Attacks on local humans had decreased almost into non-existence, and any monster caught violating this decree was made a swift example of.
People from neighbouring towns began to disappear. People that nobody would miss. Repeat offenders, found lurking around schools, were whisked off into the night by a doe-eyed girl with pigtails, lured back to the woods where they would meet their deaths. Drug-dealing pimps who laid hands on innocent girls were abducted, beckoned into stolen sportscars by a curvaceous model wearing a low-cut singlet and mini shorts. Her victims were fed to her army, the population of criminals thinned drastically.
Annie wasn’t just a succubus, wasn’t just a seductress.
She was an assassin.
Daniel figured that, maybe, he should be bothered by this. But he wasn’t stupid. He’d always known what kinds of people succubi were, the long history they had of silently, carefully, and fatally influencing human behaviour. The moment Annie confessed her heritage, he’d known she would be a killer. But it didn’t matter to him. In fact, he’d rather she be a superior succubus, as opposed to a helpless newly-presenting one, getting taken advantage of at every turn. Why she was developing so fast, he couldn’t say. Usually it took years for succubi to become this strong. But he preferred this to the alternative.
The first time he’d taken a life was at the age of twelve, when he’d seen a friend being bullied by some older kids, and lost his mind to rage. His father had needed to take him away, move him to another town, have him put on a strict diet of suppressant pills and hormone therapies. That hadn’t been the last time Daniel had killed, and many subsequent full-moon nights had vanished to total amnesia. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d woken up, gasping, covered in somebody else’s congealed blood.
He might have been a campaigner for lycanthrope rights, and he definitely hoped that future generations wouldn’t have to go through what he did, but part of him was convinced this was just what being a monster was like.
So, no. He didn’t mind that he had wound up dating a person capable of murder. Annie used her abilities for the betterment of society; she preyed on pedophiles, rapists, abusers, and unrepentant criminals, so that innocent townspeople wouldn’t wind up as wolf chow. That was more than Daniel could claim to have done. His murders had been vicious, bloodthirsty, uncontrolled, and violent. Hers were calculated. Clever. Calm.
He almost admired that.
The sky was a warm, broad expanse of blue, fluffy white jets of clouds splashed across Daniel’s view, the sun piercingly bright. He was reclined on a poolside chair, sunglasses on, dressed only in a pair of black boxers. Work had been nagging at him, too frustrating to deal with, so he’d come out here, taken a quick swim in their backyard pool. It’d worked for him since he was young; the pull and ease of the water settling over him, dragging the tension from his every limb.
He was pretty indifferent about his body, all things considered. Annie liked it. He was naturally light-skinned, orange freckles splattered over his shoulders and collarbone, mostly hairless apart from a fine covering of blond on his thighs and chest. He would hardly compare himself to the male models on TV or the gym junkies downtown, but he didn’t mind how he looked. Being a werewolf meant that his body burned energy pretty intensely. He was lean, long-limbed, and the hard expanse of his torso tapered down into angular hips, interrupted by the hem of his underwear.
He knew he’d burn if he stayed out in the sun much longer, but wasn’t willing to move for now. Contentment weighed him down, heavy in his veins like liquid sunshine, and he was loose-limbed where he lay.
Just as he was starting to doze off, an alarm sounded.
Daniel’s eyes snapped open, and he was immediately alert. He craned his head towards the house, squinting, pushing up his sunglasses. Someone was ringing the doorbell, and the backyard alert was going off as a result. Having no idea who would be coming to visit, and so assuming that Annie had left her keys in their bedroom or something, he got up from his comfy resting place with a long groan. He supposed it was for the best. If he’d fallen asleep he’d be a sunburned mess in a few hours.
He walked through the house, barefoot, discarding his sunglasses on the couch as he went. He didn’t think to look through the peephole in the front door, because it didn’t even occur to his sleep-addled mind that their visitor would be anyone except his girlfriend.
“You’re home early-” He started to say, but then immediately ceased talking, shocked into silence.
There was a man standing on their doorstep.
He was a little shorter than Daniel, with a close-shaved head and a full dark beard, dressed in a red flannel shirt, faded jeans, and muddy boots. He seemed to be a few years older, too, with darker skin. He had the open, honest face of a man who worked with his hands, and deep brown eyes that were framed by short bursts of laughter lines. His chest was broad, clothes fitting snugly against his stocky form. A wide grin stretched across his face, the expression not unkind, and Daniel felt himself start to blush. Fuck, he was practically naked, standing here gawking at this lumberjack-looking stranger.
“Sorry to catch you off-guard,” the man said gently, “I can come back later.”
“No, uh,” Daniel cleared his throat, cheeks aflame, “Just let me- I’ll be a second, wait there.”
Before he closed the door, dashing off to find some clothes, he could have sworn he saw those heavy brown eyes roam his exposed skin.
He dressed quickly, pulling on some shorts and a loose t-shirt, self-conscious for reasons he couldn’t entirely explain. When he returned to the front door, swinging it open, the stranger’s smile grew. It crinkled the corners of his eyes handsomely, and he held out a steady hand.
“My name’s Brad. I came to meet Annie.”
Daniel frowned, shaking his hand tentatively. The man’s grip was strong and confident, though his hand was somewhat smaller, and Daniel was shocked by the thoughts that were rising, unbidden, into his mind. He liked the sensation of this stranger’s calloused, heavy skin. He imagined those hands against his body, and promptly let go, as if shocked by electricity. Shit, why was he so unexpectedly horny?
“How… How do you know Annie?”
“I know that she’s one of my people, and that she’s risen to power very quickly," Brad replied. If he’d noticed Daniel’s reaction, he didn’t comment on it. "I just want to meet her. Align myself with her. It’s become apparent that she’s in charge.”
Oh. Fuck, it all made sense now. No fucking wonder Daniel was half-hard, thighs pressed together, heat pooling in his groin from the mere touch of this man’s hand. He’d always been a little bisexual, but this was the first time he’d been so affected just by a man’s presence.
“You’re… You’re an incubus?”
“I am. And you’re Annie’s wolf mate, I take it.”
Daniel swallowed thickly, the hollow of his throat tightening. “Yeah. I’m, uh. Daniel.”
“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” Brad spoke the words softly, the cadence of his gravelly voice at odds with the imposing masculinity of his body. “I’ll come on back later.”
“Wait, why don’t you,” Daniel was speaking the words before he knew what he was doing, still blushing more than he usually did, “Do you want to… hang out here? Until she comes home? It’ll only be an hour or so. I’m just hanging by the pool, so, you’re… welcome to join.”
The incubus watched him, eyes heavily lidded, the barest amount of surprise showing at the suggestion. Well, that made two of them. Daniel had no idea what he was doing, only that he wanted this man to stay.
Eventually, Brad smiled, nodding. “I’d love that, kid.”
Brad toed off his boots at the front door, followed Daniel through the house. When they got outside, Daniel took off his shirt, but left his shorts on. They were loose and stiff enough that they hid his erection quite well, and when he settled back on his poolside chair, he appeared totally relaxed, and not at all horny. At least, that was his hope. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing, heart humming fast in his chest, but he knew that he didn’t want Brad to leave.
Brad pulled off his shirt, revealing a furred chest, thick with muscle. Daniel felt his mouth go dry as Brad dropped his shirt on the ground, hands moving easefully down to his belt, those thick fingers deftly unzipping his fly. Mostly obscured by that rug of body hair, Daniel could see dark scars, seared horizontally across his chest, beneath his nipples.
“You’re staring, kid.”
Daniel started, ashamed to have been caught. “Sorry, I… You’re trans?”
Brad laughed quietly, still taking off his pants. He yanked his belt free in one long, smooth gesture, the leather making a hushed sound. Daniel imagined that belt looped around his wrists.
“Yeah. That a problem?”
Daniel blushed an even brighter shade of pink, cursing himself for even having spoken at all. “No, I… Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,”
The rugged incubus shrugged, appearing unbothered. His belt clinked as he dropped it on top of his shirt, and– without hesitation– he pulled down his jeans, revealing black briefs, pulled taut by a very apparent cock. There was a rectangular scar on his thigh, testament to what this man had been through to live his most authentic life.
Daniel looked away deliberately, trying to appear nonchalant as Brad settled into the other pool chair. He’d met trans men before, but never seen their junk, because… well, why the fuck would he have, he hadn’t been dating any of them. He knew there were surgeries, procedures, medications… But he’d never seen a trans man’s cock. Or touched another man like that, really.
But fuck if the idea didn’t turn him on.
Annie had just agreed to take her friend’s extra shift when her phone rang, buzzing in in her pocket while she was in the middle of serving two customers. She finished up with them and dialled her boyfriend back.
“Hey babe,” she said when he picked up, assuming he was calling to see why she was late, “I’ll be home later tonight. Don't wait up, you'll probably be asleep by then.”
“Shit,” Daniel breathed, voice hushed over the phone line, like he was trying to stop someone overhearing, “You’re not coming home now?”
“…No. Tati wants me to cover her. Why…?”
“There’s an incubus here, he wants to meet you. Swear loyalty to you, or something. I thought you’d be home soon, so I invited him out back, and…”
Annie could sense an edge to his words, a nervousness beyond just minor social anxiety. He was preoccupied with something else, worried about her judgement. She leaned against the front counter, twirling a pen in her hand, a curious expression on her face.
“What else is wrong?”
“You sound distracted.”
There was a stretch of silence over the phone, a line of static as Daniel inhaled slowly.
“I… You remember I told you about…”
“You can tell me, baby,” she reassured him lovingly, “What is it?”
“Well I…You know I’ve been attracted to guys before, and…” Daniel’s voice became sheepish, like he was ducking his head and looking at the ground shyly, “He’s…”
He couldn’t speak the words, but Annie knew him too well to doubt the rest. She grinned, delighted by this development.
“You think he’s hot.”
“And you want my permission.”
Silence over the phone, again. Annie wished she could be there, wished she could see a man fucking her boyfriend. She couldn’t imagine anything hotter. But she had to work, and keeping up the façade of a normal young woman was important to her, among all these humans. She wished she could see another man’s thick cock splitting her boyfriend in half, see him writhing and groaning, cheeks pink while his body was rocked by somebody else’s thrusts. Maybe she'd caress his face, kiss him, cradle his head while he fell apart. God, it'd be perfect.
But some things just weren’t about her.
“You’re always taking care of me, baby,” she told him, unable to help how her voice dipped into a lustful murmur, “I’d been wondering when you might want someone to take care of you. I’m fine with it. Just stay safe. And invite him back, so that I can watch.”
After a beat, Daniel laughed, caught off-guard by that comment.
"Are you sure, babe?"
"Sweetheart, if I'm out here having fun, you should have some too. Besides, you belong to me. He'll know that. No matter what you do with him, you'll always be mine."
Chapter 18: romance, kissing, trans man, gay
Thanks to everyone who's left a comment. Even though I thoroughly tag all my fics in order to give people the opportunity to avoid reading if they'll be triggered, and I make it very clear that I know the difference between fantasy and reality, I'm getting hate mail. Suicide baiting, to be precise.
If you're reading this and you're about to spew hatred in the comments, just... don't. If you want to have a discussion about BDSM, consent, and how to explore things safely with someone else, then sure, we can do that. But I tag everything. I let people know what stories to avoid if they'll be upset. So please just leave me, and my kinks, alone. Telling strangers to commit suicide only makes you seem like a monster.
It's hard to get motivated to write when you're being bullied, so this chapter will be shorter than planned. I'll be introducing Annie's lesbian lover in the next chapter, if I get around to writing it.
Daniel hung up on Annie, taking a slow, shaky breath. He’d ducked inside to take the phone call, and was now standing by the kitchen bench, nervous as fuck. He and Annie had done some pretty adventurous stuff, where sex was concerned. They’d fucked in every room of their house, in the pool, in public, in the woods… He’d even fucked her in wolf form. But he’d never dated a woman that was okay with him exploring his bisexuality. And the fact that Annie was so confident and unbothered, so certain of their bond, that she would allow him to be fucked by another man… Christ, he was so lucky. Once, he’d been a repressed, lonely bastard, unable to admit the diversity of his sexual orientation. Everything had changed. She had changed him.
He put his phone down on the counter, the action somewhat symbolic. He hadn’t touched another person since his first date with Annie. She may have given him her blessing, but this was still going to be sex with somebody else.
Done stalling, he turned away from the counter, and walked back outside. Nerves made him shaky, excitement pumping through his blood, the adventure of trying something new. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss another man.
Brad was emerging from the pool.
His sodden briefs clung to his groin, the size of his cock left in no doubt. Water darkened his body hair, and it was everywhere; his shapely arms were covered in it, his defined chest and shoulders furred in ways Daniel’s body had never been. As the incubus wiped at his face, biceps rolling with the motion, Daniel found himself just standing there, mesmerised by the man before him. By his sheer presence, the masculinity of his body, the way he carried himself, his deep, powerful brown eyes…
He only realised his obvious staring when it was too late. He’d looked Brad up and down, eyes lingering in all the right places, his expression far too focussed to be mistaken for anything other than checking him out. Brad was out of the pool now, walking towards him, leaving wet footprints on the deck. Daniel was taller than him, but it didn’t feel that way; it felt like Brad was towering over him, pinning him down with his gaze, holding him still just through eye contact. Beads of moisture clung to his thick eyelashes, facial hair darkened by water, and Daniel almost wanted to crack a joke about Brad having more body hair than a werewolf, but couldn’t bring himself to even speak. Brad’s hips swayed smoothly as he walked. He moved with a confidence Daniel had never completely found within himself.
“What did your girlfriend say?”
Daniel cleared his throat, embarrassed to have been caught staring. “She, um. She said she wouldn’t be home until late tonight. She’s working, so.”
Brad nodded patiently, his expression not giving anything away. Without replying, he reached up, taking Daniel’s chin in his hand. Daniel inhaled shakily, shocked by the man’s proximity. Water dripped down onto his body, shivers dancing across his nearly-hairless chest.
“What else did she say?” Brad asked softly.
“I… She said that…” Daniel swallowed thickly, unable to look away from Brad’s eyes. “…You could… have me. If you… If I wanted. We could…”
Brad watched him almost curiously. When he smiled, there was a gentle kind of affection in his gaze, like he knew Daniel had once considered himself a straight man, like he could see Daniel for the virginal bisexual that he was. In all the aspects that mattered, anyway.
Brad’s hand slid around, following the line of his jaw, curving around the nape of his neck. Daniel felt tiny, inexperienced, and lightheaded. When Brad eased Daniel’s face downwards, Daniel’s lips parting with a trembling breath, their mouths met in a soft, almost chaste kiss. Daniel was no child, he’d obviously kissed before, but this was all new. He felt the scrape and press of a man’s beard, the certainty of the grip on his neck, hands that were harder and distinctly different to women’s hands.
Their kiss deepened, Brad licking smoothly into his mouth, the press of his tongue making Daniel’s breath hitch in surprise.
“You sure, kid?” Brad asked him, words hummed against Daniel’s lips. “You sure you want to do this?”
Daniel could feel the tips of his ears burning, his cheeks hot with a blush. Brad reached down and palmed him through his shorts, and Daniel groaned loudly in surprise, hips bucking into the warm press of his palm.
“No man’s ever touched you like this, huh.”
“No, I’ve…” Daniel began, his eyes closed. He rolled his bottom lip beneath his teeth, bit down, hands clenched by his sides, “I’ve never…”
Brad took one of Daniel’s hands, lifted it to his own chest. He was smiling, eyes creasing kindly.
“You’re allowed to touch me.”
Daniel laughed breathlessly. Brad’s chest was firm under his touch, water dampening his skin. Brad kissed him again, and this time Daniel pushed back, mouth opening eagerly.
Chapter 19: trans man, phalloplasty, lesbian, gay, kissing, oral sex
Thank you to everyone who left me a message of support!! I’m definitely continuing this series, I just needed to take a break. This update is super gay, so I hope y’all enjoy that ;) I don't have a Beta reader, as per usual, and I wrote this in one sitting, so I hope this chapter reads well.
For anyone who's lingering, waiting to be an asshole; don’t leave any hate. All sexual orientations, gender identities, and kinks have been tagged. If you’re reading this, it’s because you’ve chosen to. I’m a bisexual trans man, I don’t tolerate phobia of any kind, and I have no respect for people who spend their time trying to spread negativity. Let orgasms and love into your life, sweethearts. If you’re interested in more FTM smut, check out this fic, about Tony Sawicki from Orphan Black. He’s pre-op, but still dominant. I can promise that every FTM character I write will, undoubtedly, be a man. None of that fetishistic nonsense.
(Also, fun fact, this chapter is fully accurate. Trans men who have Phallo cocks can choose to get pumps implanted, which means their erections last as long as they want. They never go soft unless they choose to. Why don’t more fanfic writers make use of this, and write dominant top trans men? Hmm.)
When Annie emerged into the breakroom, Kayla was reclined on the single couch that their long-suffering boss had grudgingly provided her employees. Kayla had taken off her flat-soled shoes and was rubbing at the heel of her foot, leg folded across her other thigh. Her skirt was bunched up in her lap, pantyhose smooth against her dark skin, apron crumpled on the couch beside her. She was a gorgeous young woman. Her cream blouse perfectly contrasted against her brown skin, plum lipstick colouring her full lips, her afro lovingly and proudly maintained. She’d confided in Annie once, briefly, about her attempts to straighten and bleach her hair as a child, the whitening makeup she’d worn. Her mother had sat her down, told her she should be proud to be black. Since then, she’d changed. She exuded a brighter energy, her voice carried loudly, the gestures of her hands extravagant. She had discovered her pride, and she was exploring it with the delight of a reborn girl.
Kayla had also discovered something else about herself. She’d discovered the softness of women, the taste of feminine desire, the word lesbian and all it meant. She wore a little rainbow flag on a dainty chain, the necklace warm between her breasts, snug and secret below her shirt.
She picked her apron up off the couch when Annie sat down beside her. Kayla’s eyes were drawn to the curviness of Annie’s body, the way her waitress uniform settled tighter around her, breasts fuller and hips wider than they had been previously. Her blonde hair was tied prettily back, green eyes framed by lovely eyelashes, lips pink with moist chapstick. She was eating a pastry, biting down into it, making Kayla’s mouth water.
Annie groaned with satisfaction at the taste, swallowing the mouthful.
“Goddamn delicious,” she announced, the first words she’d spoken to Kayla since their break began.
Kayla smiled at Annie’s obvious satisfaction. Before she could overthink it, she reached over and drew her thumb gently across Annie’s lips, brushing flakes of pastry away. Embarrassed, she was about to apologise for being so brash when Annie replied with a grin, eyelids dipping down into a sultry expression. She looked like she was daring Kayla to push things further.
“You want some?”
“…No thanks,” Kayla replied, clearing her throat, “You look… different, lately.”
Annie laughed, delighted. “I am different. So are you, though.”
Kayla looked away, glad her skin was too dark to expose the heat of her blush.
“Just got news from Daniel,” Annie said, apparently changing the subject, “He’s having some fun tonight.”
Kayla frowned, confused as to Annie’s implication. “Fun?”
“Mm.” Annie took another bite of her pastry, licking at her lips like she was trying to be seductive. “He’s found himself a boyfriend.”
Kayla’s eyes widened in shock, a whiplash of surprise hitting her. “He’s… He’s gay? You’re breaking up?”
Again, Annie laughed, stunning Kayla with the boundlessness of her emotions. “No! No, nothing like that. We have an open relationship. We can both see other people, if we want. I own him. He owns me. So we can touch whoever we like.”
“You’re… You’re not afraid he’ll leave you…?”
Annie settled back in the couch, delectable in ways Kayla could barely even describe. She undid the clasp holding her hair back, shook it free. Fuck. Kayla wanted this goddess to hold her down and lick her senseless, step on her with heeled boots, ride her hard. There was no masochism as beautiful as what Kayla felt under the hands of a beautiful woman.
“No,” Annie told her calmly, “He’s mine. I’m his. No reason to stop him having fun, is there? Especially when I’m taking who I want in the meantime.”
Kayla swallowed thickly, the implication behind Annie’s words clearer than crystals. She’d been flirting ceaselessly with her coworker for months, prodding at her, begging with veiled hints, pleading for Annie to fulfil her desires. But she’d never imagined that Annie had gotten the message.
Annie looked over at her. Without breaking eye contact, she ate the rest of her pastry, wiping the crumbs off her thighs. She rose from the couch, standing over Kayla briefly before leaning forward- she placed one knee down onto the cushion beside Kayla, and then the other, straddling her lap. Kayla’s breaths were coming faster, her every fantasy manifesting in hyperreal detail, the curve of Annie’s smile closer than she’d ever imagined it would be.
Annie ducked her head forward, mouth hovering barely inches from Kayla’s. She draped her arms around Kayla’s neck. Her breath tasted like strawberry custard, the briefest brush of lips sending sparks dancing through Kayla’s body.
“I see you looking at me,” Annie murmured, “Do you want this, baby?”
Kayla nodded, but didn’t dare move forward, thrilled to act only at the command of this gorgeous woman. She lingered, aching for Annie’s mouth, heart beating frantically fast. Annie arched into her, breasts brushing Kayla’s chest, her warm thighs parted, skirt riding up. Kayla could feel the heat of her skin through the pantyhose. The breakroom door was wide open, customers eating and talking mere paces away.
Annie kissed her.
Kayla wanted to hold her hips and grasp her thighs, but she kept her palms pressed against the cushions, back flat up against the couch like she knew what was expected of her without even needing to be told. There was something about Annie, something Kayla couldn’t name even if she tried.
Annie tasted like sweetness and fruit, her tongue painting the inside of Kayla’s mouth, just as luscious as Kayla had always imagined it would be. When Annie did speak, her words were whispered into Kayla’s gasping mouth.
“Take me back to your place. I’ll make you feel so good.”
Daniel was pressed up against the bedroom door of the room he shared with his girlfriend, a man’s hands against his body, a man’s mouth against his own. Brad had reached beneath the flimsy waistband of his trunks, was jerking him roughly beneath his underwear, kissing him with equal amounts of aggression and finesse. He backed off when he knew it would drive Daniel mad, teeth tugging gently at Daniel’s bottom lip, bruises sucked into the pale arch of Daniel’s neck. An animal of lust. Daniel was trembling, aroused beyond belief, head spinning, clutching at Brad’s shoulders. With Annie, he felt like a man, a virile protector and a dominant partner. With Brad, he felt like a boy, a shaking virgin being led into lands unknown, his body kissed, bitten, and sucked into a frenzy.
“Please,” he breathed.
Brad slanted his hips forward, dragging his cock against Daniel’s crotch, the pressure almost enough to drive Daniel over the edge.
“Please, Brad, fuck…”
Brad laughed, his casual enjoyment of this contrasting drastically with Daniel’s whimpering eagerness. “I’m not fucking you today.”
Daniel whined as Brad continued to grind against him. “Wh- Why?”
“You’re not prepared for it. It’d hurt you too much.”
“Maybe,” Daniel gasped, “Maybe I want you to hurt me.”
Brad chuckled. “Oh, I can hurt you, if you want. Just not like that. You’d hate it. And you want your first time to be nice, don’t you, boy?”
Boy. Oh fuck, Daniel had a kink. He absolutely had a kink. And his kink was a strong, muscular, bearded man talking down to him like he was some kind of innocent morsel of a virgin, gravelly voice heavy with intent.
“How about this. How about I make you come, then you suck me off? That sound good, kid?”
“Oh god- oh fuck,”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, yes, fuck yes,”
Daniel swayed limply when Brad let him go, leaving him slumped against the door, loose-limped and exhausted. He only had a moment to collect himself before Brad was taking hold of his shoulders, pulling him towards the bed, throwing him down. Daniel landed on his stomach, gasping. Brad flipped him over onto his back, grabbed his shorts and yanked them clean off, along with his underwear. Daniel covered his face with his hands, embarrassed when his cock sprung free, leaking against his stomach. He knew who he was, when he was fucking women. He was only just discovering what it meant to be with a man, and it was almost overwhelming, how much he loved it. The visceral heat of this experience.
Brad took off his underwear, joined him on the bed. Daniel propped himself up on his elbows, moaning loud when Brad ducked his head down and– without hesitation– took Daniel’s entire length into his mouth.
It was fucking bliss.
Brad touched himself as he sucked the life out of Daniel, arm stretched down, hand between his legs. His cock was long and thick, length hardening as he massaged his balls. Daniel couldn’t have even imagined this man before transitioning, and trying just hurt his brain. Brad was as far from a woman as anyone could get.
Brad lifted his head, a string of come dripping from his lips to the tip of Daniel’s cock. He started to jerk Daniel off, the grip of his hand as close to heaven as Daniel had ever gotten.
“You wanna know something, boy?”
Daniel could feel his control slipping, the building intensity as his body shuddered its way closer to an orgasm. His chest was heaving with frantic breaths that didn’t reach his lungs. “I… What…?”
“I can stay hard for as long as I want. Cocks like mine are special that way.” Brad was gazing at him hungrily, the power of his stare pinning Daniel in place. “You know what that means?”
Daniel was losing his mind. “No, I- I don’t,”
“I can fuck you,” Brad leaned over him suddenly, hissing the words against Daniel’s cheek, “forever.”
“You want that? Huh? Pretty boy?”
“Yeah, I do, I- Please, I need to come-”
“Do it. Do it, that’s it,”
He was almost caught off-guard by the intensity of it, gasping hollowly as his body was shaken by trembling jolts, his neck arching up off the bed. He was lost in oblivion for a sweet, endless moment, eyes unseeing, white drips painting the inside of Brad’s hand.
When he did collapse down onto the bed, he felt emptied out, blinking sluggishly in the aftermath. A kind expression looked down at him, and then a kiss was being pressed against his slack mouth. The scratch of a beard on his face was new, but he knew this intimacy. The touch of someone he could trust. He was glad that this man, so recently a stranger, had been the first one to do this to him.
Daniel nodded, unable to form words.
“You wanna keep going?”
Daniel summoned enough energy to happily mumble back, “Well, I gotta repay you.” The response earned him a laugh.
Brad moved up the bed, kneeling beside Daniel’s face. When a broad, certain hand cupped the back of Daniel’s head, lifting his face towards Brad’s cock, Daniel felt a tired pulse of arousal move through him, the exhilaration of being used like this. He had always loved being dominant with Annie, but the reversal of roles was thrilling; the eroticism of submission, magnified by the newness of another man’s touch.
He opened his mouth when the softness of flesh met his lips, unfurled his tongue the way women had for him in the past. Brad began to pump his hips back and forth, not thrusting quite to the back of Daniel’s throat, which Daniel found himself grateful for. This was his first time, after all.
He lay there, still dazed, as Brad fucked his face. He wondered what he looked like, whether he would recognise himself like this. A flushed face, mussed hair, eyelashes dipped low over his eyes, pink lips spread wide as a man leaned over him. Brad was grunting and cursing, nearing the edge, and all Daniel could do was take it. Like a whore. A pretty, virgin whore.
Brad came with a growl, tipping his head back, face turned to the ceiling. He pulled Daniel’s hair hard, fingers tightening into a cruel grip. Daniel whined.
Eventually, Brad pulled back, cock falling from Daniel’s mouth. Daniel coughed, gasping.
“Sorry,” Brad panted, “You alright?”
Daniel nodded, smiling as he caught his breath. “Just not used to it.”
He hadn’t known what to expect now, was uncertain of how men acted after sex. Part of him had expected they’d be perfunctory and distant afterwards, but he honestly wasn’t sure where the assumption had come from. He found himself surprised when Brad flopped down next to him, pulling him close. How easy it was to curl against this man’s side, face tucked against his shoulder, both of them completely naked. Brad pressed a kiss to his forehead.
It was shockingly romantic.
“Thank you,” Daniel said shyly, “That was…”
Brad huffed out an understanding laugh. He held Daniel closer, the gentleness of his strength unlike any lover Daniel had ever been with.
“No problem, kid.”
Chapter 20: trans man, phalloplasty, gay, intercrural sex, daddy kink
Don't worry pervs, we'll be returning to good ol' monster fucking nastiness soon, after I'm done exploring Brad and Kayla. I'm thinking the sea monster will have another experience with our babe Annie!
By the way, check out this fic for heterosexual rough roleplay.
The world was warm and blurred, Daniel perfectly content to fall asleep against Brad’s shoulder and never move. The sky was darkening outside, vibrant blue replaced by the beginnings of twilight, but it wasn’t nighttime yet. He didn’t know whether it was because Brad was an incubus, built for hypnotism and seduction, but he felt safe here. Like he’d let Brad do anything to him, in this moment. The only thing that could possibly make this better was Annie, dressed in shined leather and latex, six inch heels that would tap so elegantly against the floor, her head inclined with superior arrogance as she watched her boyfriend getting fucked by another man. He would be on the floor, held down, gazing up at her as Brad towered over him.
Just imagining it, that delicious humiliation, had Daniel’s cock stirring. A pulse of arousal moved through him, causing him to shift and inhale shakily.
He should have realised that any attempt to hide his filthy daydreams would be futile.
Before he could protest, Brad was rolling towards him, moving on top of him in one easy motion. Fingers closed around his wrists, echoing the daydream he’d been hiding, naked hips pressed flush against his own. Daniel gasped, opening his eyes, meeting the gaze of the other man, still unused to the sensation of a hairy chest against his own. He was exposed, and could do little more than blush about it. His cock against Brad’s. His arms pinned against the sheets.
He flexed his hands and tried to shift his arms, just to feel the resistance of them being held down. It was a thrill unlike anything he’d felt. Annie had always been the one on display; on her knees getting fucked, on her back surrounded by monsters, knees spread as she rode a massive cock. Now, it was him who was being watched. He was the focus of this rapt man’s attention, the willing victim of his lust.
“You said,” Daniel whispered, words so loud in the small space between their mouths, “You said you wouldn’t fuck me today.”
Brad grinned, dark eyes filled with hunger. Without replying, he rose up off Daniel, leaving the impression of fingerprints when he let go of Daniel’s wrists. He grabbed Daniel’s shoulders, flipping him over, leaving him gasping with cheek against the pillow. Before Daniel could even draw breath to ask what would happen next, Brad was laying flat against his bare back, gripping the base of his cock and guiding it between Daniel’s legs.
“Press your thighs together.”
Daniel did, cheeks burning as he realised what Brad was doing to him. The deliciousness of this vulnerability, this humiliation, was almost too much to bear. His body trembled as he held his legs together; he was so loose, all tenseness melted from his body, lying limp and helpless in his man’s arms. Brad panted against his neck, growling like an animal as he fucked the space between Daniel’s soft thighs.
“You feel good,” he groaned, words hot against Daniel’s cheek, “You feel so good, boy.”
Daniel panted, his body rocked by the motions of Brad’s hips, by the thrusts that were met with supple, silky resistance of skin. His head lolled, mouth open wide, eyes half-lidded. He wanted Brad to fuck him like this, to take what he wanted without asking, to use him so intimately. He’d never been at anybody’s mercy before. He’d never been treated like this.
Brad’s hips stilled, thinking Daniel’s whispered plea was genuine. But Daniel arched his back, digging his knees into the bed so that he could push his ass against Brad.
“Stop it, daddy…”
Brad inhaled sharply as he realised Daniel’s true intent, the filthy fetish he’d just introduced into this moment. Heavy, strong hands seized his wrists again, harder this time, a touch that promised bruises. Brad fucked his thighs faster now, skin slapping, rutting mercilessly.
“You like this, boy? Hmm? You fucking whore.”
Daniel whimpered, the deep, rumbling tones of Brad’s voice awakening something he’d never before realised was inside him. He pretended to struggle, wishing Brad’s cock was buried deep inside him.
“Daddy no, please stop, daddy-”
Brad kept going, slamming his hips furiously against Daniel’s ass. It wouldn't take him much longer to come, both men overwhelmed by the spontaneity and filthiness of Daniel’s begging, his slender body no match for Brad’s superior strength. It didn’t matter that Daniel was a werewolf. Right now, in this bed, he was nothing more than a moaning boy.
"Please don't, daddy," Daniel begged, tasting the words with something approaching curiosity, fascinated by the sound of his own voice saying such taboo things. He was so used to ordering Annie around during roleplay, adopting the role of the aggressor, that he'd never really paused to wonder what it'd be like to switch. "Stop it, I don't want it..."
"You love it, don't pretend otherwise."
"No, no, daddy..."
"Gonna come," Brad groaned, the sound almost closer to a shout, "I'm gonna come,"
"Daddy don't, daddy...!"
"Fuck, gonna come, fuck,"
Absolutely overcome by the fantasy they were acting out, trapped between a heavy body and an unyielding mattress, Daniel came at the same time Brad did, shuddering himself into a silent climax, struggling to breathe. His cheeks were reddened, his eyes were unfocussed, the sheets were wet with come, and the insides of his thighs were damp. It wasn't often that he felt like an entirely new person, marooned eons away from the understanding of himself he'd cultivated over many years, but this was truly a new frontier of sensuality. Brad pressed a brief kiss to his cheek before rolling off him. The incubus was gasping for air, his furred body drenched with sweat, gloriously naked and utterly masculine, penis still hard between his legs. Daniel liked this. He liked being with a man. He could only imagine the new heights of sensation that this incubus could drive him to, and he wanted Annie to be there for every second of it. Watching him being taken apart piece by piece, orgasm by orgasm.
Brad looked over at Daniel, extended a hand to stroke his cheek. "Hey," he began, words edged with breathlessness, "You good?"
Daniel smiled, the expression listless and blissful. Brad laughed in response, turning his gaze toward the ceiling.
"I think we're gonna have some fun, kid."
Chapter 21: lesbian, cunnilingus, gay, trans, threesome, voyeurism, bondage, femdom
Kayla’s room was endearingly messy. Dresses were draped over the back of her office chair, lingerie dotted about the floor, her work uniform crumpled where Annie had discarded it. It was obvious she’d never been worshipped like this, never had a woman roll down her stockings with reverence and adoration, pressing kisses down her legs. She seemed ashamed, shy about her body and her home, murmuring apologies for the fact she hadn’t shaved in a while, words weighed down with pain from previous relationships, the expectations of straight men she’d forced herself to have sex with.
“You’re beautiful,” Annie told her. Kayla didn’t believe her. Which was fine, because Annie was determined to convince her that it was true.
She eased Kayla down onto the bed, taking hold of her knees and pulling them apart. Kayla gasped when Annie ducked her face down, wet mouth opened against her pussy, tongue lapping at her clit. A thatch of dark hair tickled her face, but she liked it, liked the purity of a woman’s honest body. This wasn’t some porno shoot, two heterosexual women scissoring each other and pretending they liked it, high-pitched squeals of false pleasure accompanied by acrylic nails and platinum blonde hair. Kayla was a true lesbian, and Annie was going to make damn sure she understood that womanhood was beautiful, that she’d never have to fake an orgasm again. She wanted to leave this apartment with the certainty that Kayla was a changed woman, that she’d go to gay bars and pick up whatever girl caught her eye, confident in her desires, in love with her own body.
“You don’t have to,” Kayla breathed timidly, “Annie,”
Annie sucked her clit hard, making Kayla shiver and arch her back, hands grabbing at Annie’s hair instinctively. Her breasts were gorgeous, soft and supple with dark nipples. Annie played with Kayla’s chest as she ate her out, loving the rhythm and dynamic of this tryst. She was dominant in this bed, every swirl of her tongue doing something indescribable to this magnificent woman. Annie hadn’t been with a girl for years, and fuck, she’d missed it.
Kayla’s torso seized and shuddered, Annie’s mouth as expert as ever, driving her very quickly towards orgasm. Stripping her down, dissolving all her defences, leaving her exposed in ways she’d never been. Kayla clutched the pillow by her head, crying out, one hand gripping Annie’s hair hard enough to make her scalp tingle.
Within no time at all, she was coming, hips jerking helplessly. It continued on for a while, until she was limp and gasping, more honest in this moment than she’d ever been. Annie laid next to her, propped up on an elbow, grinning. Kayla eventually met her eyes shyly, smiling with no small amount of coyness.
“That feel good, baby?”
“…Yeah,” Kayla admitted, “Yeah, it did.”
When Annie kissed her, she knew her lips were still coated in the taste of come, knew Kayla could taste her own pleasure there. She licked into Kayla’s mouth, smoothed a hand down her chest, caressing her breasts.
She stayed with Kayla until night had well and truly fallen outside, the young woman wrung out by orgasm after orgasm, her desires fulfilled in ways she had never expected. She’d grown so content with dissatisfaction, with the emptiness of her bed, with the touch of people she wasn’t attracted to; Annie had changed her life in one evening.
Now, Annie was headed home to see her boyfriend, who had been changed even more than Kayla. She hungered for the sights that awaited her, for the man who had touched her lover’s body, who would do things to him that no other man had. In the car, an idea occurred to her. She parked on the side of the road, took out her phone, and dialled Daniel. He picked up on the third ring, his voice airy and delightfully exhausted. She was wet, just imagining what had driven him to sound like that. What that incubus had done to him, to his body.
“Annie, baby… When will you be home?”
“Soon. I’m on my way. Is the incubus still there?”
“Yeah, he’s…” Daniel’s voice was brimming with awe, spellbound by lust. “He’s still here. Fuck, babe, I need you to see this, see me like this, I feel so different…”
“Oh, I will.” Annie let her voice dip into a commanding tone, the dynamic between them shifting and changing. “By the time I get home, I want you to be ready. He’s going to fuck you, and I’m going to watch. Have him bind your hands behind your back and gag you with a tie.”
The phoneline crackled with a burst of static, a hush of breath as Daniel inhaled. Annie felt powerful. Hungry.
“Okay,” Daniel replied.
This was a game they’d never played before. She’d never asked him to call her that before, never dominated him in that way. But she wanted this, and she could just tell, could sense in a way she’d never been able to before, that he wanted this too. Needed it.
“Okay, mistress,” he whispered, “I’ll be ready for you.”
Annie parked in their driveway. She took her time. She gathered up her bag and locked the car doors, walking slowly to the front porch. She knocked, rather than use her keys to unlock the door, getting into a mindset she’d never truly embraced before. She was in control. She would not do anything that somebody else could do for her.
The door opened. A shirtless man, with a chest of hair and a full beard, greeted her. She felt the air zap between them, the electricity of their shared heritage, incubus and succubus meeting for the first time. Like a lioness, she watched him, her gaze cold and dominant. He bowed his head and took one of her hands, lifting it to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. A display of obedience. He’d heard of her newfound legacy, the army of monsters at her command, and he wanted to show he was no threat to her.
“Thank you for allowing me to touch your mate,” he murmured, “I submit to you.”
She inclined her chin upwards. “Your name?”
He released her hand, straightening up. He had beautiful eyes, full of intelligence and kindness, exactly the kind of man she’d have imagined would be the first to take her boyfriend’s innocence.
“Brad,” he told her, “My name is Brad.”
She nodded. “Take me to him.”
He let her inside, closed the door behind them. He led her through the house, to the bedroom.
Daniel was kneeling on the bed. He was entirely naked, arms pulled back, hands bound just as Annie had instructed. She could see the wet shine of lube decorating the insides of his thighs, the blush on his cheeks that was a testament to what had been done to him, the defencelessness of being touched so intimately. He was panting, hair mussed by strong fingers, a curl dipping down to brush his brow. The very picture of virginity, his pale body littered with marks from the manhandling he’d been subjected to, mouth covered by silky black fabric, the gag tied against the nape of his neck. He looked like a virgin sacrifice, a pretty morsel of a boy.
Annie smirked. She took a seat in the corner of the room, folded her legs elegantly. Brad was lingering faithfully in the doorway, both men awaiting her orders.
“Get undressed.” She directed Brad, without looking away from Daniel. Her words fell with finality in the silence, and there were soft sounds as Brad pulled off his underwear.
“Kneel on the bed behind him.”
Brad did as he was told, crossing the room. The bed creaked quietly beneath his weight, Daniel shifting to stay upright as the mattress moved. The sight of this, of a man behind her bound boyfriend, ready to fuck him, was intoxicating. She wanted to touch herself, but refrained. This was about Daniel. She was to be a cruel, distant mistress, calm and collected as he shattered into pieces.
“Take your cock,” she murmured, “Put it against his hole.”
She could see the shiver of embarrassment that moved through Daniel’s body, his lashes fluttering as she spoke those filthy words. Brad spit in his hand and curled it around himself, slicking himself further with a few tugs. He placed one hand on Daniel’s ass, spreading his cheeks just enough so that he could press slightly inward, a blunt pressure that promised more. Annie hummed in approval. She watched her boyfriend tremble.
“Move inside him.”
Daniel sucked in a sudden breath, nostrils flaring, mouth covered by silk. He whined as Brad began to ease himself forward, violating him so slowly. Through taut fabric, she could hear his rasped breaths, his helpless keens as pain and pleasure melded into one confusing, wonderful sensation.
Brad filled him in increments, taking hold of Daniel’s slender hips for leverage. By the time he was fully sheathed, Daniel was groaning and gasping, a litany of ah, ah, ah muffled by fabric. His shoulders were curling inwards, face scrunched up in discomfort, eyebrows drawn together, sweat moistening his face. Such a pretty sight. Annie tapped consideringly against the armrest of her chair, licking slowly at her lips.
“Now,” Annie whispered, her voice rough with arousal, “Fuck him.”
Brad eased his hips back, drawing his cock almost entirely out, Daniel wailing through his gag at the sensation. His body was jerked violently when Brad thrust forward with a grunt, his answering moan hitched with surprise.
The incubus quickly found a rhythm.
Chapter 22: gay, trans, romance, showering, phalloplasty, eggpreg (briefly)
Annie is gonna get fucked real hard over the next few chapters, by the sea monster. Heterosexual sex and monster porn will be happening alongside gay and trans folks fucking, too. I like women, I like men, I like pussy, I like cock, I like monsters, I like everything. This is a fic for EVERYONE. So please don’t leave comments asking when I’ll stop including trans characters, or how many more chapters will include Brad. I’m the author, and if I want to have people like myself in my stories, just accept that. Guys like me don’t get to read stories we can relate to, so I'm partly writing this for all the FTM guys out there who are starved of representation that doesn't revolve around cutesy androgynous trans boys with pussies. I won't change what I write because someone leaves a comment saying they're not turned on by trans men. Just move the fuck on if you don't like it, lads.
For a visual representation of how Brad’s cock works, see this video of a trans dude with a Phallo cock.
Brad fucked Daniel as hard and fast as he could, grunting with the effort, the younger man whining and trembling beneath him. The tawny-haired boy could do little more than whimper when Brad hammered his release into that tight, perfect ass, shaking hands curling harder around fabric restraints. He was sweat-slick and sobbing, body flushed, drained and exhausted; he’d come quite a while ago, but Annie had quietly commanded that Brad continue fucking him.
The incubus pressed a kiss against the wing of Daniel’s shoulder blade, his movements intensely adoring for that one brief moment, a gesture of respect and gratitude that he’d been allowed to fuck this gorgeous young man at all. He eased his cock out from the warm grip of another’s body, committing to memory the way that Daniel twitched and gasped, shivering at the sensation of emptiness, the humiliation and intimacy of a cock slipping from his ass. Daniel lay there, gasping, eyes glazed and unfocussed, a gag still covering his mouth. His hair was plastered to his forehead by sweat, and his lashes were damp with tears, but he didn’t look distressed. He looked blissed-out, utterly fucked into submission.
For the first time since the sex had begun, Annie rose from her chair. Brad, naked and on his knees behind Daniel, watched her. It wasn’t unlike watching a lioness prowling in a cage, power in her veins, unmatched strength evident in every movement. She sat elegantly on the bed, curled a hand against Daniel’s cheek. He exhaled heavily, a happy whine now that she was close.
Annie turned her gaze to Brad, satisfaction apparent in her eyes.
“Go take a shower down the hall,” she told him softly, not needing raised tones or brutish insistence to prove her might, “You’ve done well.”
Brad felt the warm thrill of approval hum through him, the tingling recognition of her praise. She wasn’t just another succubus, a young seductress with mild ambition and a pretty face. She was a queen. And he wanted to serve her for as long as she would have him.
He thanked her quietly as he moved off the bed. She hummed in response, already turning her attention to Daniel. She stroked his face and touched him, and Brad quickly looked away, feeling that he wasn’t permitted to witness this. Fucking Daniel was one thing, but witnessing their romantic overtures was another.
The tiles were smooth and warm beneath his bare feet as he showered. Hot water cascaded down his back like a blessing, and he groaned with satisfaction, face turned towards the ceiling, eyes closed. Brad was a man of simple means; he very rarely used his abilities to seduce anybody, and– unlike many among his species– he hadn’t used his attractiveness as a means to acquire wealth. His home was small and unremarkable, bathroom facilities minimal, and he certainly didn’t own a shower this fancy. The water pressure was fucking incredible.
He reached over to a soap dispenser, and pumped a generous amount into his palm. He lathered up his hands and spread the lavender-scented foam about his body, rubbing his palms over his chest, washing his shoulders, scrubbing his beard, reaching between his legs. Lastly, he took a hold of his shaft, gripped it firmly. When he let go his cock had softened.
His body felt good, now. He was a man, just as he’d always been intended. As a young boy he’d fought with his mother, screaming in protest when she tried to force him into frilly dresses and girl’s clothes, hiding for hours underneath his bed to try and avoid going to school. His father, an incubus, had recognised what was going on, had seen his son for the man that he truly was. And now, years later, Brad was whole. His body was hairy, his cock was thick, his chest was male, and the exhausting process of blood tests and doctor’s appointments was long over. He’d emerged from the clinical desolation of hospitals and clinics, out into the warm, holistic reality of living as a man. He didn’t see himself as being in a state of metamorphosis, not anymore. He was an incubus, recognised by his community as such. A man beyond any doubt.
Once he was done, he stepped out from the shower, dripping wet. He looked around for a towel to use, but couldn’t see a spare one. He ducked down, checking the bathroom cupboard beneath the sink, and found a pile of fresh towels to dry himself off with. He patted himself down, the texture of the towel soft and delightful, hanging it up once he was finished. Never one to stand on ceremony, and hardly ashamed of his nakedness at this point, he walked from the bathroom fully nude and utterly unashamed.
When he emerged into the bedroom, Annie was stripping the bed, piling the sheets in a laundry basket. He blinked at her. It was like watching a goddess pause to do housework. The intersection of her average life and her superhuman strength was baffling to witness.
“Daniel’s gone to clean himself up,” she announced, meeting his eyes with a smile, sparking another jolt of pleasure at her obvious approval, “Get dressed and meet me in the living room. We’ll have drinks before you leave.”
She lit a fire in the hearth, its warmth blooming out and embracing them as they sat, sipping bourbon. She had retired into a silken dressing gown, bare legs folded gracefully. Brad felt like a fucking commoner in his flannel and jeans. He should probably have prepared for this, dressed better so that her presence would have a befitting reception.
She lifted the crystal glass to her lips, taking a delicate sip of the golden liquid. Brad tried not to stare. She was magnificent. Humans had it wrong, with their admiration of undernourished girls and starving thin models. They'd been closer to the truth of femininity in the Renaissance; full bodies, arching and dancing, their curves immortalised by the strokes of a painter's brush, their plumpness speaking of opulence and blooming womanhood. Brad had known many kinds of women, had aesthetically admired them though he had always preferred the company of men, but he'd never met a woman like Annie. She loved her body. She loved all bodies. She was hungry, delighted, sensual, and curvaceous. Aphrodite, reborn.
She caught his eye as she sipped on her drink. He looked away, laughing awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," he apologised, embarrassed to have been caught staring.
Firelight warmed her face, touched upon her skin and turned it golden. She grinned, not offended.
"The first time I met another of my kind, I was pretty overwhelmed too. Don't worry about it."
Brad shot her an incredulous look. "You're a bit different to the majority of our kind, Annie, and I'm not a newborn incubus. You're..."
She shrugged, so casually dismissing her deity-like existence, blasé in ways he couldn't understand. Oh, to be so apathetic about your own magnificence.
"Do you know why you're... different?"
"No, I just know that this journey has been..." she gazed into the burning brightness of the fire, lost in thought, "...easy for me, in ways that others can't understand. I suppose I'm just unique. I don't particularly want to explain it. Things have changed pretty fast."
Brad sipped his bourbon, relished the burn of alcohol down his throat. "I suppose I can relate to that."
The next morning, Annie woke in bed, curled up next to her boyfriend. She'd bade Brad goodbye by their front door, inviting him back in the future. The night had been a success, and she was glad to have met this incubus, thrilled that Daniel had chosen so well for his first time with another man.
When she opened her eyes, Daniel was asleep before her. He looked so pretty and peaceful, his lightly freckled face slackened by sleep, cheeks still ruddy from being so aggressively fucked in ways he wasn't used to. She smiled at him, heart so full of love she could surely burst. She wanted to touch him, slide down his body, fill her womb up with his seed. He was her one true love, her partner in life and in bed, the only one who saw her the same way he always had. As she continued to change, as her body morphed and grew into that of a queen seductress, she needed him by her side. She needed the reminder of where she'd come from.
She flinched when her phone started ringing, its sound piercing the quiet of their bedroom.
"Shit," she whispered. Daniel didn't stir, so deeply asleep from exhaustion. She sat up, silk parting to reveal her breasts, reaching for the bedside table where her phone sat. She accepted the call, climbing up out of bed.
"Hello, Miss Annie? This is, um. The doctor you saw, when you first..."
Annie paused in the doorway, then proceeded through it, closing the door behind her with a growing smile. She could hear the tremor in the incubus' voice, the fear at what he had done, his seduction of the young woman who was no longer a victim. Beneath her reign, he would have to serve well to compensate for past mistakes. He'd heard, undoubtedly, of her army. He knew the price he could pay for claiming her body so brashly, knew that the rules were changing for his kind.
"Well, well," she replied slowly, walking steadily through her house, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I... I am sorry, for what I-"
"Get on with it." Her words were cold, her tone leaving no room for debate. In all honesty, she couldn't have given less of a shit about the pervert doctor, but he needed to learn his place. And, if his fear of her led to him pausing before deciding to molest other girls, well. That was an added bonus.
"The clinic... Needs your help. The creature from the beach, the one that... impregnated you... We've been unable to catch it. Your help is required- I mean, we are asking, we hope you will help us to catch it. Please." His speech was stuttered and nervous. This was a man unused to asking permission. "We simply cannot lure the thing out onto dry land. It poses a risk to the general public, particularly humans. Your... abilities, and the fact that the beast has tasted you before, means that you... It will be drawn to you, and-"
"I've heard enough."
She let those words hang, heavy, in the air. The phone line was silent for a long pause. He dared not speak until she allowed him to.
"I will lure the beast out onto dry land, and end its life. You will be in debt to me for this."
"Yes," he exclaimed in a relieved rush, "Thank you, we're so very grateful-"
She hung up on him and tossed her phone onto the couch. She went off to make coffee, thinking about tentacles, that creature's soulless eyes, and the sensation of eggs filling her fertile body.
This was going to be fun.
Chapter 23: eggpregg, bestiality (mentioned), swimsuit
When Annie returned to their bedroom, Daniel was still soundly asleep. She bent down and kissed his lips gently, drawing him momentarily from his slumber.
“Annie…” he whispered, voice thick with sleepy contentment.
“Go back to sleep,” she replied quietly, stroking his cheek, “I have something to go take care of. You did so well last night, baby. I’m so proud of you. You took that cock so damn good.”
He huffed out a breath of laughter, sounding embarrassed and aroused by her filthy language. Amused and pleased, she kissed him again.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.”
The beach was a short walk from their house. She dressed in her swimsuit, the same bikini she’d worn the first time the beast encountered her. It settled around her body differently now, straps drawn tighter against her skin as the garments struggled to contain her full breasts and shapely ass. If the monster had been unable to resist her before, it would be utterly rabid in its claiming of her now. It would fuck her more violently and with even more gusto, forcing eggs inside her with the ferocious resolve of a creature determined to further its species.
When she arrived at the beach, it was deserted. Humans had heard of the dangerous monster that lurked in the depths, and were staying away. She laid down her towel and then lowered herself onto it, excitement hastening her heartbeat, speeding her breaths. She was so aware of her body, of the scraps of fabric that only just prevented her from being naked in public. She was ready to be claimed. Ready to play the part of the victim, ready to squeal and gasp as the thing violated her. It wouldn't kill her, because she was a superior creature, but it would fuck her with the senseless lust of a beast that didn't care if his prey survived. If she had been anyone else, the destruction of her body would be guaranteed.
She closed her eyes, basked in the glow of the sun.
Soon, she was asleep.
Chapter 24: tentacle rape, eggpreg, psychic abilities, bestiality, masturbation, unwilling arousal
Edit: spotted a mistake after posting. If you encounter any, do ignore them. I write this stuff in one sitting so it's hardly my best, in terms of spelling etc. Cheers!
Brad was dressed in muddy jeans, steel-capped boots, and an overlarge flannel shirt, with thick gloves secured at his wrists, slicing the trunk of a tree with a chainsaw. He couldn’t hear anything beyond a faint humming sound, earmuffs dulling the roar of metal teeth. His bosses were real sticklers for protocol now, what with the latest environmental changes and updated workplace safety laws. It hadn’t always been this way, and Brad far preferred this; the marred skin of Brad’s forearms, and a dented scar just inches from his right eye, had been lessons enough about what happened when you were treated like cheap labour. He wore safety goggles now, and thank fuck for that. He liked coming to work, certainly more than he had in the past. Physical safety was cool, and knowing you weren’t completely fucking the planet was a nice added bonus too.
It was a normal day.
Right up until it wasn’t.
He, and every other monster for miles, felt it. Like an invisible shockwave rippling through the air, he was hit by a shiver of awareness, a presence hovering just outside of his perception, a niggling sense that grew stronger and stronger. A wave of heat pulsed through him, so intense his vision almost greyed out; the will of a creature so intense that he was overwhelmed, arousal pooling in his gut. The moment the sensation gripped him, he knew what was going on. He knew who was causing this.
He switched off the chainsaw, glad he’d only just started making a dent in this newest tree. His head was spinning. He was so fucking turned on that it hurt.
He fumbled with his gloves, yanking them off and then discarding his goggles and helmet, dropping them on the ground. In his haste, he stumbled, body overwhelmed by the psychic presence of Annie. He didn’t know where she was, but he knew what she was doing. She was fucking, and it was a fierce encounter. She was absorbing the life force of a truly ancient creature. Fuck, Brad would need to speak with her about this. She needed to reign in her abilities before she drove succubi and incubi everywhere into a rutting frenzy.
Hands steadied him when he tumbled, veering suddenly to the side. Brad sucked in a sharp breath, immediately hyperaware of the man– his friend– who was holding him upright. He was too close, eyes narrowed by his concerned frown, one hand between Brad’s shoulder blades, the other gripping his shoulder. Holding Brad to his chest. Fuck.
Brad needed to get away from him right now.
He pushed Daryl away, too afraid of what he’d do under Annie’s influence. She was too powerful. Too strong to resist. He needed to go home and jerk off until this need was sated.
“Brad?” Daryl reached out to him, his lined face so ruggedly handsome, several years older than the incubus himself. His embrace promised safety. All Brad wanted to do was get down on his knees for him, right here in the middle of the fucking forest, but that was a seriously bad idea.
“Brad, are you doing okay, man? You don’t look too good-”
“I’m fine,” Brad forced the words out as he turned away, practically running towards where his car was parked. “Just- I’ll be back later.”
He didn’t know whether he would be. God only knew how long it would take for him to satisfy this urge. His workmates yelled after him, concern matched only by irritation that he was skipping out early, but he didn’t dare pause for even a second.
Brad fled the forest clearing without looking back.
The monster had risen from the sea like an oncoming storm.
Its huge body rose from the depths, its arrival heralded by a gigantic shadow slinking across the ocean’s face, limbs coming into focus as it rose upward. It had grown, since its last encounter with Annie, as if mutated by the time it had spent violating her. Its body was full of eggs, strong tentacled limbs thick with muscle, evolving for one final impregnation before its long life came to an end.
Water rose and bubbled, and then the top of its head broke the surface. It rose upward, more horrifying with every stretch of damp skin that was exposed. Giant eyes, at least the size of human heads, were empty and remorseless, trained upon the victim that waited onshore. Its bulbous head was bigger than a car, and its huge limbs were so big that they created waves that crashed onto shore. It slunk towards the sand with alarming speed, tentacles undulating, a mighty and horrifying sight.
It towered over Annie.
She lay on her back, soundly asleep, bare legs fallen open on the beach towel. A giant shadow swallowed her up, the creature completely blocking the sun as it hungrily looked down at her. Hokusai, the visionary that he was, had dreamed of this very moment. A woman reclined helplessly as an oceanic beast made forceful love to her unwilling body.
Except, in this case, she wasn’t unwilling. Her swimsuit panties were soaked, absolutely dripping with her arousal, her eagerness to partake in what was certain to be a brutal claiming. She wanted this. She wanted to be fucked.
But the monster didn’t know that.
It extended a writhing tentacle, and encircled her body. Without pause or delay, the monster yanked her up off the sand. She hung limp from its grasp, being carried off like some poor damsel in distress, drawn towards the ocean. The tentacle that gripped her was not unlike a snake, in that it was strong with muscle, every shift undulating powerfully, the entire limb coated in thick clear slime. As it took her away, she quickly became covered in it, globules of slick sliding down her body and dripping from her swaying arms.
It was taking her away, sea air breezing over her exposed skin, the sound of sloshing water making way for the creature’s giant body. They were moving across ocean; to where, Annie didn’t know.
But she sure was keen to find out.
Eventually, Annie sensed the world around her changing, even with her eyes closed. Sounds began to change, becoming more echoed, smaller and more shallow waves splashing against a hard surface, accompanied by drips of water. An enclosed space.
She let herself hang, helpless and seemingly unconscious, as the monster deposited her on the cave floor. Water lapped at her back, a small amount of ocean rushing into the cave.
Now came the fun part.
She let her head loll to the side as the monster forcibly undressed her, tentacles sliding beneath her bikini and tearing it cleanly off; no meandering touches like the first time it had raped her, no patience for molestation or the tasting of its victim. A strong grip encircled each knee, yanking her legs open. Immediately, the creature dove between her thighs. A cluster of elongated cocks lunged towards her cunt, each one vying for entrance.
Her eyes snapped open, her gasp slicing through the air, body going stiff as the thing attempted to penetrate her.
"No! No, don't! Stop!"
She screamed as loudly as she could, but the creature shoved a tentacle in her mouth, flesh forced between her teeth and down her throat. She gagged, jolting where she lay, hands grabbing desperately at the tentacle in an attempt to make it stop, but the creature refused to let her go. She wailed helplessly as two cocks found purchase, driving deep inside her, twisting and arching deeper than any other cock had ever forced itself. The monster began fucking her immediately, still trying to force more cocks inside, her belly already rising and falling with the shapes of the limbs that were raping her. The creature buried itself between her shaking, milky-white thighs, silencing its victim, her breasts bouncing. She sobbed, flailing about, trying to escape, but it pinned her down.
She couldn’t get away.
Brad parked his car haphazardly in his driveway, slamming his foot on the break pedal, turning off the engine with a wrench of his keys. He jumped out of the vehicle, ran for his house, banging the front door closed behind him. He locked it and ran for his bedroom. Once there, he pulled off his clothes like he was on fire, burning from the sensations of another creature, driven mad by arousal. He collapsed down onto the bed and touched himself, massaging himself into hardness, hand gripping his cock too tightly, fist pumping up and down. Images flashed in his mind. Annie, being dominated by a monster, tiny compared to its huge form, her legs spread, that giant thing forcing itself up into her body.
Within no time at all, Brad came, shuddering and whining. The relief lasted only for a moment, and then his hand returned to his cock, the burning inside him not yet sated.
It wouldn’t be.
Not until Annie was done.
Chapter 25: bestiality, eggpreg, romance, friendship, bisexual, trans, asphyxia
Our favourite hunter is back, and I decided to take his story somewhere unexpected! Also, fyi: I’m using “truck” in the American sense here. If you’re Australian or English, please don’t picture Daryl casually driving around in a semi-trailer. That would make the story rather, uh. Amusing. Also, on an unrelated note, this chapter contains severely unrealistic biology, so just. Take it as it comes, lads. (Heh, get it. Comes.
I’m still not funny.)
The cave was vulgar with the sounds of violent, wet sex. Annie had been hoisted into the air by her ankles, legs held apart, arms hanging. She had given up fighting, eyes half-lidded, mouth hanging open, cheeks flushed from the blood rushing to her face, sipping hollow breaths as she approached unconsciousness.
“Stop…” She slurred, lashes fluttering as her mind staggered between unconsciousness and waking, dizziness making the wold spin. “Please…”
She was being manhandled like a sex toy, like a living doll, like a womb to be filled, and nothing more. Her body was arched and trembling, breasts bouncing as tentacles pounded her pussy. At this angle, it could more effectively impregnate her.
The creature had begun to fuck eggs into her, and the round objects were bunched inside her body, lumps gathering heavily in her belly, giving her the appearance of being pregnant. Her hands were swinging, head swaying limply as she was used, thick white liquid pouring down her skin in thick rivulets, splashing over her tits, sluicing down over her engorged stomach, dripping down the length of her throat, over her face and into her hair.
“Oh god,” she groaned, the slickened flesh of tentacles moving in and out of her cunt with slap, slap, slap sounds. “Oh god, stop…”
Her words were utterly ignored. The creature was growling and panting, animalistic sounds of enjoyment echoing through the cave as Annie sobbed and wailed. Its cold, dark eyes showed no pity.
The sounds grew louder and louder, howls of wild brutality, the monster losing its control. Hanging from its grip, Annie smiled, recognising what was about to happen. She arched her body into the thrusting pressure of tentacle limbs, her pussy stretched wide, the weight of eggs settling heavily inside her body. She reached one arm slowly upwards, tracing the shape of her violated torso, following the inflated curve of her stomach toward the front of her pussy. She rubbed her fingers against her clit, thick come pouring past her hand, spilling out from inside her.
“Stop…” she whispered as the fucking grew more and more intense, a dazed smile tugging at her lips, words at odds with her enjoyment of this defilement, “No, don’t…”
The beast hammered its release into her. It dropped her down onto the cave floor so that it could tower over her, blanketing her body entirely with its hulking, slippery form. Her spread legs could be seen on either side of the writhing, twisting mass of tentacles; the fucking became more and more intense, and still, she touched herself, drinking up the monster’s drive to further its species, its sexual hunger, its carnal desperation. Her pink lips pouted around the tentacle that was shoved down her throat, her fingers swirling against her cunt, body pressed into the floor so heavily that she couldn’t escape even if she’d wanted to. But there was no need to fight back, no need to wrestle the limbs that pinned her down.
The monster fucked, and fucked, and fucked, until it couldn’t anymore. Its huge body was robbed of life, power bleeding from it into Annie, seamlessly from its limbs to the inside of her womb.
Silence fell inside the cave.
From beneath the beast’s body, Annie emerged. She rose to her feet, the weight of her bloated stomach causing her to be unsteady, bare feet teetering on the cool stone. Her hair fell about her face, clumped with viscous slick, come dripping from the corners of her mouth. She was brimming with pleasure, the energy of such an ancient creature satisfying her in ways nothing ever had before. This monster had seen the rise and fall of countless civilisations, and now it was collapsed on the floor of a cave, huge eyes glazing over as death claimed it. The eroticism of it, of eating up another being’s life force, had her orgasming. She shuddered, swaying with the force of it, eyes rolling back, mouth opening wide.
With a loud cry, she tumbled to the ground, landing on her back. Just like the first time this creature had impregnated her, she opened her legs, belly churning with the weight of so many eggs.
“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, overwhelmed and exhilarated, “Oh, Christ…”
She pushed, hands curled against her stomach, trembling at the sensation of her pussy widening and then narrowing, an egg sliding down the canal of her vagina, rolling smoothly out onto the stone. She could only fucking imagine how this looked. A huge mass of tentacles sitting, wet and unmoving, alongside a naked woman giving birth to an animal’s eggs. She had once been a vanilla human, a shy girl whose virginity was stolen by an older man, and the amount that her life had changed fucking amazed her sometimes.
She pushed out another egg, fluid trailing from her pussy to its shell. Her insides were slicked and thoroughly fucked, making the births almost smooth. Pleasurable. The eggs rolled out of her, and it was like she was being fucked all over again.
Once Annie was finished giving birth, she stood, briefly considering the pile of eggs she’d left behind, and the body of her victim.
She strode from the cave, beautifully naked and bathed in the fluids of copulation. She dove into the water, salt water engulfing her body, immersing her entirely. She felt free and enlightened, centuries upon centuries of stolen power coursing through her whole being.
She swam to shore, the water washing her clean. She walked up out of the surf with no clothes on, skin bared and beautiful, her full body on display. Like Venus emerging from the water, she walked up to a shocked tourist, daintily took his phone from his hand. He gawked at her, open-mouthed, unable to even protest. Nearby, mothers covered their children’s eyes, as they and their husbands stared in lustful desire at this strange, nude woman.
Annie dialled the clinic. They picked up on the first ring, and she recognised the nervous tones of that pervert doctor.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“The beast is dead,” she replied coolly, “You will find its body in the caves.”
She hung up, leaving wet fingerprints on the man’s phone. When she handed it back to him, he almost dropped it from shock, blinking rapidly. She smiled, settling her weight back on one leg, still being stared at by all the other beachgoers. It wouldn’t do to have her identity revealed, her peaceful normal life disrupted by the revelation that she was the rumoured succubus.
She took the man’s towel, lifting it up off the sand and shaking it clean. As she wrapped it around herself, the man’s eyes became unfocussed, his gaze sliding off to the side. Everybody else looked away too, distracted and distant. She took hold of their minds and moulded them as she pleased. By the time they looked back at her, they saw her as just another young woman holding a towel to her body, returning from a swim. Conversation, boring and normal, resumed, kids building sandcastles and parents baking under the blazing sun.
They had no idea what they’d just witnessed, their minds neglecting the blonde goddess who had just emerged from the ocean like a fantasy story.
Annie walked away, sand hot underfoot, grinning happily.
When she arrived home, Daniel was still in bed, dozing soundly. The front of his underwear was damp with come, and she realised that he’d been impacted by her lovemaking, the aggressive mating ritual she’d just undertaken. Interesting. She hadn’t expected that to happen.
Deciding to deal with that later, she discarded the towel on their floor, stepping forward to join him in bed. She curled against his back, tucking her body against his, hugging him close. Slick come was still leaking from between her thighs, and she knew he’d smell foreign scents on her skin later, but for now, they could just be here. Together.
“I love you,” she murmured. He hummed back, not yet fully awake.
Within no time at all, she was asleep too.
One day passed.
Daryl was draped across his battered truck’s front seat, knees spread, staring through the windscreen at a house he’d once considered safe. He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other dangling down between his legs, cigarette held between two fingers. Smoke wafted through the car, the slowly-smouldering tip of his cigarette only serving to emphasise the passing of time. A bird cooed nearby, flapping its wings and taking off into the sky, leaving him sitting in silence. The wind whistled about his car, metal creaking tiredly. He had a drag of his cigarette, thin paper crinkling against his lips.
He felt old.
The lines of his face were tight with thought, his grey eyes guarded and secretive, his soul burdened with the violence of his past life. His life as a hunter. The things he’d learned to consider normal, blood and death twisted into victory, the thrill of the chase blurred and heightened by the tingle of alcohol. He knew what that blonde girl had been, knew why she’d cornered him that day in the forest, had linked her mysterious presence with widespread changes in hunting patterns. Criminals, rapists, and abusers. All being systematically culled by a golden-haired succubus with pleading eyes.
But she’d let him live.
So now, he had to deal with that shit. With the fact that, despite the years he’d spent behind bars in his youth, and despite all the fights he’d gotten into, she had walked away and left him with his heart beating. He had to deal with his entire fucking worldview being turned upside-down. Everything he knew was tainted. His guns, his cabin, his legacy, his hunting trophies, his mementoes from fellow gunmen. He’d built his entire life around killing, and he hadn’t even fucking realised as it was happening.
The succubus had reigned in every single monster for miles. She had done more for the safety of humans than the hunters had ever done, and now Daryl had learned that she’d used her own body as bait, to entice that giant Cthulhu-looking motherfucker out of the ocean and into her trap. She’d killed the single greatest threat that his town had ever faced, and she’d done it using only her body.
Daryl, fast approaching the dawn of his natural life, was struggling to accept that monsters could be good people.
But that wasn’t all that was bothering him.
He could accept that the girl was good at heart, some kind of exception to the rule, a soft introduction to the uprooting of his entire life. He could work with that. He didn’t know her, she was an abstract concept at best, a vivid wet dream that kept haunting him. What was bothering him was that, according to his hunter contacts, her recent aquatic activities had caused a chain reaction among most other monsters. The howling from the forest had been deafening, and certain individuals had excused themselves from work or school, fleeing home as they were assaulted by overwhelming sensations. Something about the girl’s succubus powers linked her to them. Succubi and incubi had been affected the greatest.
Daryl had thought nothing of it, at first. But it didn’t take him very long to connect the dots, to figure it out. The timing was too close to be a coincidence.
He’d known Brad for years.
Their camaraderie had been simple, honest, and friendly. They cut down trees, they lifted and dragged huge logs, they did odd jobs around town when they needed spare cash, and they had beers every few days. The guy kept to himself most of the time, didn’t talk about his personal life much, and came from as modest a background as Daryl did. When he’d explained the scars on his chest, and the vividly red scar on his thigh, Daryl had shrugged, unconcerned. It’d taken the older man a few weeks, and the occasional awkward question directed Brad’s way, to understand what “transgender” meant, but he’d gotten there in the end. Didn’t matter how the guy had been born. Daryl knew who his friend was, and that was all that mattered.
Except, apparently, he hadn’t really known who Brad was.
He’d felt the pit of his stomach sinking with worry, nervousness seizing him as Brad staggered to the side. He’d grabbed the other man, pulled him close, held him upright as he swayed.
Brad had pushed him away.
Daryl wanted to believe that he could trust Brad, but this was one hell of a fucking secret for the guy to have been keeping all these years. A fucking incubus. A monster with kind brown eyes and a soft voice, masquerading as Daryl’s friend all this time. By his side throughout the good times and the bad, Daryl’s confidant in mourning, Daryl’s drinking buddy every Friday night.
“Fuck,” Daryl whispered to himself. He sucked hard on his cigarette, taking in one last lungful of smoke. Then, before he could overthink what he was about to do, he opened his truck door, stepping out onto Brad’s driveway. He dropped his cigarette onto the concrete, crushed it with the heel of his shoe.
He needed some answers.
Nobody chose their nature, and he could fucking understand why Brad might not have wanted to tell him the truth. Daryl had never made a secret of his political affiliations, or the fact that he’d wanted to hunt and skin a werewolf his whole life. It made him sick, remembering all the horrible things he’d said in Brad’s company. He couldn’t decide whether he was angrier at himself, or at Brad. Everyone needed a job, everyone needed some dough in their pocket, and he supposed Brad had never tried to influence him or manipulate him… All he’d ever done was turn up to work, stay back for beers occasionally, and lend a hand when needed. He was such a blameless person, wholesome intent and kindness emanating from his every action. He was a friend.
Which infuriated Daryl even more.
He walked up to Brad’s door. He hesitated, a muscle fluttering in his jaw, nervousness hastening the pace of his heartbeat. He smoothed down his hair, cursing quietly, wishing he wasn’t sober. Drinking had dulled these kinds of feelings so effectively. Damn shame he was trying to live a good life now.
He raised his fist, knocked three times, rapping his knuckles against wood.
Eventually, the door opened, preceded by the clunking of locks. Brad stood before Daryl, looking tired, his heavy-lidded expression momentarily perked up by his surprise at seeing his friend on his doorstep.
“Hey,” Brad grinned, the expression sleepy but cheerful, “What’s up, man?”
Just seeing that innocent face, that open friendliness, sparked a flare of fury within Daryl that he had long been suppressing. Anger management sessions and staying sober only did so much, and he was still the same hardass hunter he’d always been. Besides, he deserved answers.
He strode inside. Slammed the door closed behind him, and shoved Brad up against the wall, forearm braced across his collarbone. He pulled at Brad’s shirt, twisting the fabric in a white-knuckled grip.
Brad held his hands up, eyes wide.
“…Daryl, what are you-”
“You’ve got some questions to answer.” Daryl said, trying to keep his voice level, trying to ignore the pang of guilt and fear he felt as he intimidated his friend this way. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were?”
Brad flinched. He looked away, closing his eyes. His expression was pained, and he wasn’t trying to fight back. Daryl realised that Brad was expecting to be punched.
“You didn’t answer the question. Why not tell me? All those fucking years, Brad, all the times I said I wanted to kill people like you. Why didn’t you speak up? Why didn’t you tell me what you were?”
Brad looked at him then, his expression mournful. “You know why.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Daryl heard an edge of desperation threading itself through his voice, and was relieved to know that his desperation to understand was evident. He’d never been good at communicating his emotions. “No, I don’t. Just tell me.”
They were standing so close. Daryl could feel the shifting of Brad’s chest as he took a slow, shaking breath. Their eyes were locked in a sincere stare, and Daryl couldn’t bring himself to look away.
“I was afraid you’d hurt me,” Brad whispered, “I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted to be like you.”
Daryl didn’t know how to reply to that, because fuck, those words hurt. This man had fought to live as his most authentic self, he’d gone under the knife, chopped and diced his own body, battled to be recognised as a guy when society said he couldn’t possible be. After all that, all he’d wanted to do was settle down into an average job, live an average life– but even then, he was still different.
Daryl didn’t know what to do. His training, his obsession with hunting monsters, told him he should bury a knife between Brad’s ribs, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He wanted to hug Brad close, wanted to fix this, but he was afraid of that too. So he just stood there, arm pinning his friend in place. His hand loosened, the fabric of Brad’s t-shirt no longer pulled taut.
“Daryl…” Brad began, his voice unsteady, “You know I’d never… I’d never have hurt you. My abilities, they aren’t… They’re under control. I’ve never hurt anybody. I’ve never forced anyone into anything.”
Daryl watched him. He didn’t reply, because he didn’t know how to. He had lived most of his life being emotionally cold, brash, and cruel. He wasn’t used to giving a shit. He wasn’t used to feelings. He came from a generation where men didn’t talk to each other about this stuff. Brad had a beard, a strong face, defined arms, and worked as a manual labourer; he was the pinnacle of masculinity, and yet he wore his heart on his sleeve in ways Daryl never could.
“Daryl please, I’m not,” Brad’s voice trembled, and it wasn’t an act. His back was flush against the wall, his chest bruised by the press of Daryl’s arm, but he wasn’t trying to run. It was horrifying to realise that Daryl could hurt him, like this. And Brad would take it. He wouldn’t fight. “I’m not… I’m not what you think. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was, I just… When I told you I was trans, you accepted me, and I knew that… if I told you the rest, you’d…” Brad’s voice was strained and tense, breaths hitching in his throat as he tried not to cry, eyebrows drawn together into a pleading expression. “I knew I’d lose you, and… you’re a good friend, man, I didn’t… I didn’t want to-”
Daryl hugged him.
Thinking that Daryl had been about to take a swing, Brad flinched, hands flying upward in an instinctive attempt to protect his face. But he froze still when Daryl pulled him close, one hand cupping the back of his neck.
“You silly fucker,” Daryl said gruffly, trying to obscure his affection with curses.
Hearing that, Brad realised he wasn’t going to get hit, and he relaxed. His shoulders unwound, hands coming to rest against Daryl’s back, chin tucked against Daryl’s shoulder.
“I wouldn’t have trusted me either,” Daryl admitted, words full of honesty, a secret whispered against Brad’s neck, “I probably would have hurt you. If I’d known. But not now. Not now.”
Brad nodded, exhaling slowly, relief obvious in his posture. Daryl leaned back, one hand still on Brad’s neck. Their eyes met, and Brad grinned apologetically.
“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have-”
“Forget it,” Daryl told him quietly, “Just forget it.”
They watched each other. The world was quiet, their awareness restricted to the space between them and all the years they’d spent together, nothing real but the honesty they’d just shared. And maybe it was the look in Brad’s eyes, maybe it was how much Daryl had changed lately, or maybe it was just something that’d been burning beneath their every interaction all this time. Whatever reasons they both harboured, Daryl found himself leaning forward, eyes falling closed as he pressed his lips to Brad’s mouth. The younger man leaned towards him, meeting the kiss eagerly, inclining his face upward.
Daryl’s whiskey-soaked heart was singing, the thrill of new experiences so rarely felt, the scratch of Brad’s beard reminding him exactly who he was kissing. A man. A man that he wanted.
Brad placed a palm against his collarbone, eased him back, their mouths parting. Daryl was breathing harder than before.
“What’re you doing?” Brad asked, lips touching against Daryl’s chin, nose brushing his cheek.
“I don’t fucking know,” Daryl admitted breathlessly, wondering whether his mouth tasted like smoke, “But it’s not the first time that I’ve wanted to do this. I just never could, before now, because I was…”
His voice trailed off. He didn’t need to elaborate on his past bigotry. Brad was a gay incubus. His skin wasn’t white, and he had once been his father’s daughter. He was everything that Daryl had once hated, every demographic that Daryl had raged against with his hard-drinking redneck buddies. And yet, he’d always stood by Daryl, always helped him, even when Daryl spat slurs and spewed prejudice.
And now, here they were.
Brad kissed him again, softer now. He tasted like forgiveness, and Daryl’s chest ached in a way that wasn’t familiar, a swell of pain that he hadn’t felt for a very long time. He touched Brad too, hands against his waist. Crowding him up against the wall, their bodies closer now. Brad reached up and held Daryl by the nape of his neck, gripping him tight; he felt different to the women Daryl had loved, his figure muscled and defined, his flat chest broad and strong.
“Are you sure,” Brad panted, “Are you sure you want to do this? You know what I am, you know-”
Daryl kissed him harder, surging against him. Brad groaned, tilting his head away with a breathless laugh.
“Christ, Daryl. Are you sure?”
Daryl raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m unsure? Fuck.”
Brad grinned, eyes bright with happiness. “I know, I just-”
“As long as you’re not using those incubus powers to get my dick hard, I don’t mind what you are. I like what you are.” Daryl, with a gentleness he’d long forgone, stroked the length of Brad’s cheek. He felt the tickle of stubble, the roughness of a man’s skin. “I like everything about you.”
Chapter 26: lesbian, trans woman, gay, romance, trans man, bisexuality
The new character in this chapter, Lara, is inspired by the protagonist of Girl (2019), a film about a trans ballerina, based on the youth of Nora Monsecour. It was confronting and controversial (please seek out the film’s warnings before you view it), but I adored it, and I loved Lara. I wanted to create a character that was like her, so here we are!
If you had to take a message from this chapter, and from anything I write: all bodies can be sexy, and all people are different. Girl was a good film (in my opinion), and was very realistic, but the plot’s conclusion didn’t encourage self-love. All of the trans women I’ve met, I’ve found very, very attractive. Same goes for the trans men I’ve met. If I had my way, I would be able to help every person see their own beauty. I found mine when I transitioned, and everyone deserves that same confidence, so I hope my fics help somebody out there.
Pervy monster fucking and diverse porn! It’s the future, lol. I’ll be getting into some freaky stuff with Annie soon, too... Maybe ghost fucking?? I think things might get spooky, pals ;)
Brad knew what kinds of men he liked. He liked soft, gentle men, who would bend beneath him and moan so prettily, feminine and demure by his side. He liked them because he enjoyed feeling like a man, enjoyed holding pliant bodies down, giving pleasure as eagerly as they took it, burying his cock between trembling thighs. He liked holding them afterwards, their bodies curled against his side, manhood buoyed by the delicious comparison.
Daryl wasn’t some innocent twink looking for a first experience. Neither of them were.
Daryl was a hardened man with rough hands, and when he touched Brad, they felt like equal partners. They went to Brad’s bedroom, kissing and grabbing at each other, and it was Daryl that eased him down onto his back. He wasn’t cruel, didn’t force Brad or push him into it, and Brad enjoyed this change. The gentleness of this man, paired with his gruff exterior and hardened features, was seductive in a way no other partner had been. Daryl’s gestures were almost polite, like he was asking for permission he’d already gotten, feeling his way through this new experience.
“Brad,” Daryl breathed, “Fuck, Brad…”
Brad tilted up his chin, finding Daryl’s mouth with his eyes closed, their lips meeting easily. It was as if he knew the pattern of their bodies already. Innate. Intrinsic. He was an incubus, yes, but this wasn’t about seduction. They were two blokes, strong and masculine, coming together in intimacy. It was a different kind of desire to the dynamic Daryl had become so familiar with.
They moved together hungrily, men from two very different worlds. They had found this affection for one another, this warm place amid a lifetime of pain and rejection, and Brad knew that Daryl wanted to erase his past of bigotry and cruelty; he moved against the older man, offering his body, saying, I’m here, and I see you for who you truly are. Brad arched his hips upwards, made his intentions clear, and Daryl answered him in kind. He tasted like cigarettes and whiskey, and his hair was streaked through with grey, stubble flecked with white.
Daryl grabbed a handful of his ass through fabric, growling against his mouth. “Goddamn. You’ve got a fantastic body.”
Brad laughed breathlessly, holding Daryl’s waist. “So do you, old man.”
“Old man?” Daryl kissed him hard, chuckling as he did. “You little shit, don’t call me that.”
“Or what,” Brad panted, reaching down to drag his palm over the taut front of Daryl’s jeans, relishing the man’s answering moan, “you’ll stop?”
Daryl propped himself up on his arms, enough that their eyes could meet. They were both smiling widely, and breathing harder. Brad continued touching him, rubbing at his crotch. He watched the change in Daryl’s expression, watched his eyes become alight with the kind of carnal desire that could only be satisfied by fucking until neither of them could walk.
“You know what you’re doing,” Daryl observed, knees folded on either side of Brad’s thighs, “Reckon you oughta take the lead on this one. Show me the ropes.”
Brad blinked hard, shocked to hear those words falling from Daryl’s mouth. “Are… Are you sure?”
Daryl rolled his eyes and ducked his head down against Brad’s shoulder, groaning dramatically.
“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, “You gonna make me repeat myself?”
Brad grinned, the vulnerability in Daryl’s drawling voice delicious beyond belief. He held the other man close, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, smiling against rough skin, “Tell me how you want this to go.”
Daryl grumbled, but the sound was not unhappy. His hips were still pressed hard against Brad’s body, and his eagerness was all too evident.
“I want you inside me,” he mumbled, “I want you to..."
"Fuck me," Daryl whispered, "I want you to fuck me. Christ, never said that to a man before in my life.”
Brad laughed, overjoyed.
Kayla was working the early morning shift again. Which would have been fine, because she needed the cash, but there were no fucking customers to alleviate her boredom. The dishes were all washed and stacked away in preparation for the breakfast rush, the kitchen staff were smoking cigarettes in the alley behind the café, and Kayla had mopped the floor clean. Daylight was dawning, a purple twilight that sweetened the concrete outside and made suburbia look marginally less dreary; early enough that only shift workers and fishermen had come by to get their fix.
Kayla could feel the bags under her eyes. She felt like her skin had been stretched across her face like candle wax, but was reassured by her reflection, which looked deceptively put-together. Christ, she hated getting up early. She needed to restructure her shifts.
She was toying with the coffee machine, idly over-cleaning it in anticipation of somebody walking in. She didn’t expect anyone to actually arrive, because there was a slight chill outside, and most favoured the instant coffee of their offices rather than brave the trek to an actual café.
The bell by the front door gave a quiet ding. Kayla prepared herself to be sociable, taking a deep breath before looking up and greeting the new customer with what she hoped was a passably happy smile. But, the moment she saw the person, her expression slackened, and she blinked in surprise at the sight that greeted her.
The woman approaching her had to be the most gorgeous individual Kayla had ever seen.
She had an elegant, graceful beauty about her. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, parted down the middle, loose strands framing her delicate cheekbones. She had striking features, and a rosy hint of lip gloss was the only makeup she had on, her face all the more authentic for it. The light pink sweater she wore settled warmly over her body, and Kayla liked the shape of her; her petite breasts, her slender waist, her lean legs, her defined face. Kayla had adored the fullness of Annie’s body, had loved the plump curves of her form, but this stranger was attractive in a different way.
When she approached the counter, the woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, grinning shyly.
“Morning,” Kayla said, not faking her smile now, “What can I get for you?”
“Um… A latte with two sugars, please. And a croissant.” She spoke softly, like she was afraid to raise her voice. As she paid with her debit card, her sweater sleeve was tucked over her knuckles, like she was hiding her hands. Kayla couldn’t understand why such a magnificent woman would be so timid.
Kayla got started on the coffee, frothing milk and grinding the beans. She inhaled the bitter aroma of coffee, and noticed the woman breathing in too, relishing in the richness of that caffeinated scent.
“It’s a nice smell,” Kayla remarked, for once thrilled to be making small talk, “really nice, early in the morning.”
The woman nodded, lips quirking up into an agreeing smile. “It’s one of my favourite smells,” she replied, voice still quiet, as though she was holding back from expressing herself. What she was afraid of, Kayla couldn’t have said. She supposed it was none of her business.
Kayla finished making the coffee, pressed the plastic lid down onto the cardboard cup. She took a pair of tongs, placed a croissant inside a paper bag, folded the top crisply. When she handed it, and the coffee, over to the woman, their hands touched briefly. Like a scene out of a fucking romance paperback. God, Kayla was smitten.
“Have a great day,” Kayla said, wishing she had the guts to ask this woman’s name without sounding like an absolute creep, already certain she had been staring far too much.
The woman smiled graciously, and with a quiet, “You too,” she departed.
Kayla watched her go, feeling wistful.
Lara got into her car, munching on the croissant. She thought about the breathtakingly sexy woman who had served her at the café, thought about her deep brown eyes, her smooth skin, her proudly maintained afro. Lara had never seen a lady quite like her before; she looked like she ought to be on a runway, staring the world down from the cover of a glossy magazine, draped in expensive fabric, men and women worshipping at her feet.
Lara sipped on her coffee, gazing tiredly through the windscreen, waiting for her car to warm up. For a moment there, she’d been sure those alluring eyes were lingering on her, roaming her body keenly. But she was certain that couldn’t be the case.
She hadn’t been with anyone since transitioning.
Sighing, she leaned back in her seat, consoling herself with the spark of caffeine and the sweetness of pastry. Rays of sun were painting her face, warming her features further, but she was oblivious to her own beauty, too tied up in her own insecurities. She didn’t want to go to work. She was going to face a bunch of awkward questions from coworkers that had known her pre-transition, who remembered her as somebody else.
Tapping on the side of her coffee, she glared glumly out the window. She wanted to go back inside the café, get that gorgeous girl’s number, and have fun the way regular people did.
Brad awoke slowly. He was naked and sticky with sweat, sheets clinging to his skin, wrapping around him. He had fallen asleep sprawled on his stomach, the side of his face pressed against the pillow, neck aching from the angle. Light was filtering weakly through the blinds, gentle stripes of light across his back, a delicate breeze moving about the room.
He realised, eventually, what had woken him. A familiar mouth was trailing kisses down his back, pressing soft touches against his shoulder blades and across the sensitive terrain of his ribs. He smiled dazedly, the scratch of Daryl’s stubble ticklish.
He thought back to last night. To the grip of Daryl’s body, his breathy curses as he opened up in ways he never had before, the words Brad had whispered to console him. How they’d thrust and arched against each other, sucking pink blushes into skin, teeth tugging at flesh. It had been rough. Visceral. Pure. But it hadn’t been brutal, and they’d remained close long after their climaxes dulled, gasping for air, locked in a crushing embrace.
Daryl hummed against Brad's spine, sensing that the other man was awake. Brad shifted, turning his head to face Daryl, other cheek against the pillow now.
“Morning,” he murmured.
He heard the creak of chair, felt Daryl’s mouth leave his skin. He peered groggily over at where Daryl sat, fully dressed in his clothes once more. His sleeves were rolled up, one hand dangling down between spread legs. Brad’s eye followed the solid line of Daryl’s forearm down to his knee, and across to the defined shape of his cock beneath denim. Christ. Barely even awake, and he was already turned on. Daryl saw him looking, and smirked.
“Darling, huh?” Brad smiled dazedly. “Going soft on me, Daryl?”
Daryl shook his head with an incredulous huff of laughter. His expression softened, an adoring smile crinkling the edges of his eyes, tilting up the corners of his lips. He looked younger, like this. Happier.
“I sure am,” he replied simply.
Brad reached over, and Daryl took his hand, their roughened fingers interlocking smoothly. They stayed like that for a while, not speaking.
The moment Kayla finished her shift, she went to the break room, and dialled Annie's number.
Kayla felt her cheeks warming, Annie's sultry voice making her shiver. "Hey, Annie."
"To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I, um... I need some advice."
"There's this..." Kayla cleared her throat. "Well, a customer. It might sound creepy, but a woman came into work, and she... she was gorgeous. If she comes in again, how do I... like, flirt with her...? I don't want to be weird, or make her uncomfortable, I just-"
"Babe," Annie said softly, "Calm down."
Kayla took a shaking breath. "This is new, for me. Being... out."
"You're an attractive woman. You're polite. You're clever. Establish a rapport with her. Be relaxed. Be honest. Let it simmer. Let it develop."
Kayla nodded jerkily, toying with the hem of her skirt. She felt a little less nervous, hearing Annie's consoling tones.
"You're welcome, baby. Come around to my place, if you like. In the meantime."
Chapter 27: riding, revenge sex, ghost sex, dubious consent, breathplay, shape shifting
Spooky time! Also, some, ah, dubious consent stuff in this chapter. Of a different variety. Revenge sex is an interesting genre to approach. And, just to clarify: with reference to that aspect of this update, this chapter is just as taboo as other ones. Men can absolutely be sexually assaulted, and the experiences of male victims are just as real and important as those of female victims. Once again, this is a fantasy, and not indicative of real life in the slightest. Morals and ethics have been very wildly re-imagined to describe encounters between non-human individuals, and I do NOT condone non-consensual sex. The only things I condone are getting nude and nasty with consenting partners, and exploring your deepest, darkest fantasies with willing participants.
SO, with that in mind: please do enjoy this update, and leave a comment if you’ve got a spare second! I’m taking this story pretty much wherever I want to, especially since it was only ever supposed to be one chapter long. I love hearing if y’all are enjoying this crazy fuck fest!
Things went back to normal, broadly speaking. Daniel and Annie settled back into their domestic ways, each with an expanded understanding of their deepest desires. Daniel started to take his suppressants again, the medication made necessary by increased trips abroad to advocate for lycankind. Annie worked shifts, stacked bookshelves, placated customers, and made coffee. She and Kayla fucked occasionally, a fun affair that required no commitment from either partner, and conversations with Daniel via the phone were filled with filthy profanities. Annie weaved tales of delicious humiliation, describing in whispered tones the things she wanted to watch happening to her lover. Daniel jerked off while talking with her, whimpering into the receiver. He offered, at one stage, to adopt the role he’d once been so familiar with; to dominate her, be her controlling boyfriend, the aggressive werewolf with a huge leaking cock. But she wanted to focus on him. She wanted to take this journey further, have him embrace his submissiveness completely.
He certainly wasn’t complaining about that.
One evening, while Daniel was away, there came a timid knock on Annie’s door. She went to answer it, wearing only a bathrobe, the silken fabric tied at her waist. She held a glass of red wine daintily in one palm, fingers cupped around its bowl.
It was him. The doctor who had called her about the sea monster, and given her such a hands-on introduction to her nature. He was dressed in a suit and tie, hands folded apologetically in front of him, avoiding her eyes. She suppressed her grin, looking at him with cold indifference, hip cocked to the side. She looked like a wet dream, a fantasy come to life, a curvaceous blonde daydream.
“What do you want?”
“Hello,” he began, swallowing thickly, his throat straining with the motion, “I, uh. I apologise for interrupting you at home, but I-”
“Out with it,” she demanded flatly, “And, if you must address me, you shall call me mistress.”
He glanced at her then, shame showing in his eyes, the indignity of an incubus so used to being at the top of the food chain. But his shoulders slumped in an expression of defeat. It was apparent that he had given up trying to challenge her.
“Well… mistress… there’s another creature which is posing a threat. The monster population at large risks the attention of harsher governmental regulations if we don’t prevent attacks on humankind. You have an army at your disposal. We would be very grateful, if-”
“An army isn’t needed,” she said quietly, not needing to raise her voice or fuck around with false bravado.
“…I assure you, the threat is severe enough-”
“Tell me what the issue is. I will personally address it.” She had a sip of her wine, the liquid staining her lips red, settling vividly against her tongue. “On one condition.”
She took his arm, led him into the house. Once inside, she pushed him to the floor, straddling his hips. He looked up at her with half-lidded eyes and pink cheeks, as humiliated by this encounter as she had been when he pushed her up against the wall and shoved his cock inside her.
She parted the front of her silk robe, breasts hanging full and plump, blonde waves cascading down past her collarbone. He looked away, but she grabbed his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.
“You like me now? Now that I’m not helpless?”
He wished he could say that he didn’t. “You’re… magnificent, mistress.”
Annie sneered, perfect lips drawing up into a cruel smile. If she was intending to make him ashamed, it worked. He did feel bad for taking advantage of her. The world really had changed for incubi and succubi; she was of a new generation, and she wouldn’t excuse defilement.
She arched her hips, body undulating smoothly atop him. His expression faltered as the curve of her ass dragged against the front of his suit, his cock hardening inside his slacks. Power seeped from her skin, golden and indescribable, trapping him where he lay. She was a goddess, stronger than any he had ever known, and the knowledge that she could literally fuck him to death was both frightening and wickedly arousing.
She took his tie and twisted her wrist, looping it around her knuckles. When she pulled, the grip on his neck tightened, and his gasp was hollow.
He closed his eyes, heat burning beneath his skin, temples throbbing as she tightened, loosened, and then tightened her grip. Just enough to keep him on the edge, just enough to keep him under control. He heard the scrape of his zipper, felt his underwear being pulled down. He bit his lip, hard, when she sunk down onto him, her wet heat engulfing his cock, gripping him tight. His head was swimming, heat hammering too fast, body pressed hard onto the floor by the weight of her.
She rode him hard and fast, not taking off her silk gown. It slipped down her shoulders and pooled about her thighs, the moisture of sex defiling the shimmering fabric. Her smooth ass slapped against his skin, his arousal unwilling but all-encompassing, driving him mad.
She moaned and enjoyed herself, touching her body and massaging her breasts, using him as nothing more than a sex toy to get off. After she came, she rose up off him, leaving his cock rigid and unsated.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, thighs slick. Without cleaning herself up or acknowledging him further, she wrote a number down on a piece of paper.
“Take this,” she said, dropping the note onto his chest, “Text me the details, and I’ll go kill your monster.”
He shoved his aching cock back into his pants, feeling suitably admonished by the knowledge that he’d have to go home and jerk off alone. “Thank… Thank you, mistress.”
He texted her the details, and she was utterly thrilled by them. A ghost that had taken up residence in an abandoned house, and was attacking pedestrians who wandered past? Christ, it sounded like the plot of a horror movie. And she couldn’t wait to be the fresh meat to oh-so-helplessly wander into a supernatural trap. The seductiveness of the roleplay was made all the more appealing by how real the danger would be.
Her pussy still leaking the doctor’s pre-come, she wandered to the bathroom, dropping her robe to the floor.
She watched her reflection, lit by the flickering glow of scented candles. In the dim light, her face began to change. Her cheeks slimmed down, face becoming more youthful, eyes bright and wide with the innocence of a virgin woman. Her breasts changed shape, a little smaller now, perky as they had been when she turned eighteen. Streaks of tawny brown bloomed at her scalp, cascading down her head as if by magic, winding about the waves of her hair, right to the tip of every strand; her hair was turning brunette. Dots of brown flecked her blue eyes, beginning at her pupils and seeping out toward the edge of her irises, until a chocolate-eyed girl was looking back at her from the mirror. She looked innocent. Vulnerable. Ready to be defiled. Perfect bait for a raging creature of pure instinct.
Annie smiled, pleased with the transformation. There was no real reason she needed to play the part of an innocent victim; she just wanted to, for her own personal enjoyment. Why not make the task as fun as it could possibly be?
Now, all she had to do was go to the listed address, and catch herself a ghost.
The house looked innocent enough. It was a plain, one-story affair, with a white-painted exterior and a small front lawn. The only qualities earning it immediate suspicion were the dead plants cluttering its garden, flowers curled and cardboard brown, life leeched from their every leaf. Even the grass was infected with whatever supernatural entity had overtaken the estate; it was yellowed and tough, crunching underfoot like hay.
A girl timidly approached the house.
She was wearing a school uniform, stockings sheer beneath a plaid skirt, white blouse tucked into the waistband. Her hair curled around her face, a sweet bob that enhanced her girlish features and pretty eyes. Her shoes made quiet scuffing sounds against dusty, creaking wood as she approached the house’s entrance, small hand gripping the doorknob.
“Hello?” She called out, peering into the hallway when she did enter, voice nervous and shy. “Is anyone here?”
She closed the front door behind her. The floorboards groaned beneath her every step, like the house was protesting her presence. She slowly, fearfully walked through the house, glancing into empty rooms, spiderwebs cluttered about the corners of all ceilings.
She found herself in what appeared to be a girl’s bedroom. The bed had once been pink, flower patterns having long since faded, a music box sitting abandoned on a quaint little table.
The girl looked around, peering curiously at the dusty remnant of a past life. When she turned to leave, however, she was stopped in her tracks by a sudden sound. The music box had burst to life, lid thrown open, a ballerina spinning around on an axis. Tinkling, childlike music weaved itself through the air, insidious and unexplainable. She could have sworn the box was closed.
“What the fuck,” she whispered.
Propelled by some redundant need to take control of this situation, she slammed the box closed, silencing the tune. But the silence was, quite possibly, even creepier to experience. She headed immediately for the door, fear creeping up her throat, breaths hastened by terror.
The door slammed closed in her face. The clunking of a lock, metallic and loud, suggested someone was standing on the other side of the door, and locking her in– but she hadn’t seen anybody.
“Hey! Who’s doing this!” She yelled the words, trying to sound brave. She wrestled with the doorknob, jiggling it frantically, trying to escape. The door wouldn’t budge. “Hey! Let me out!”
With horror growing, she spun around, frantically searching for an alternative escape. She ran for the window, figuring she could force it open and escape whatever creep had concealed himself out in the hallway, and was keeping her in here.
Halfway across the room, she was stopped in her tracks, body frozen on the spot. Before she could even process the impossibility of that happening, she was lurching to the side, tipped by some invisible force, colliding with the bed. She landed face-down, gasping against dusty linen, flailing for freedom, legs kicking off the edge.
“What’s happening! Stop it! What’s going on!”
Insane with confusion and fear, she felt her limbs being lifted and moved, an unseen being forcing her legs onto the bed, until she was laying fully on it. She gasped and screamed, yelling for help, but none came.
“Someone! Please! Please help!”
Her head was being held down, and her cries were muffled. She couldn’t raise her forehead off the pillow. Her schoolgirl skirt was lifted, its hem plucked into the air by an invisible hand, defying the laws of gravity. She felt the fabric leave her skin, and screamed with fresh terror, suspecting what was about to occur.
“No! Stop it! What’s happening!”
Fingers caressed the bare curve of her ass, hairless and smooth. She felt a puff of breath against her cheek, as if someone were leaning down over her to whisper in her ear– she was certain that couldn’t be possible, because nobody was in the room with her that she could see, but whatever was going on couldn’t be denied.
“Wearing no panties under your uniform,” a phantom voice murmured, breathing hot against her skin, “You wanted this to happen to you.”
She wailed and squirmed, tears brimming in her eyes. Faster than she could process, faster than was humanly possible, a shape was penetrating her pussy from behind, the folds of her cunt parting for an invisible cock.
“No! No! Don’t!”
It should’ve hurt, being fucked without preparation, but the thing slid into her without pause, pressure retreating and then thrusting inward immediately, jolting her body on the bed. She sobbed, truly a sight to behold. Her clothes were crinkling and shifting, moved about by no visible entity, the widening and narrowing of her pussy unexplainable.
“Stop it! Stop it! Take it out!”
Her school blouse was forced open, buttons torn free from stitching. A hand molested her, grabbing at her young breasts, fingers unkind and brutal, leaving bruises on tender flesh.
She eventually went limp as she was fucked, unable to even process what was happening, the ghost that was raping her. The music box sprung open again, girlish music resuming, and the girl gazed unseeingly across the room as the tune played.
“You’re not a virgin anymore. This body is mine. I will claim you whenever I please.”
“No…” the girl whimpered, lashes clumped by tears, faint moans falling from her lips every time the creature thrust into her, “No, please…”
“I will keep you here. Rape you every day.”
“No, stop… Please… Please…!”
The fucking became more intense, accompanied by phantom grunts, the girl’s pussy filling with white come, pouring down between her thighs and onto the inside of her skirt.
In the next moment, the girl’s body was morphing, changing, becoming fuller and more shapely. Her hair sprung to life in blonde waves, her large breasts bouncing as the fucking reached its climax. Annie smiled, draining the ghost’s power entirely, licking at her lips. It was hardly the most satisfying kill, but the creature sated her desires somewhat.
“You… devious… little bitch…”
Annie laughed gleefully at the ghost’s gasping final words.
Chapter 28: mff threesome, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, polyamory, minor femdom, bisexual
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Kayla was reclined against the headboard of Annie’s bed, entirely naked, legs spread. Annie’s head was bobbing between her thighs, licking her deeply, waves of her blonde hair pale against Kayla’s dark skin. Behind Annie, holding her hips, Daniel knelt. He was gently fucking his lover, Annie’s slick warmth embracing him, pressure pulling beneath his groin, tingling up the length of his body, a flush blooming across his chest and reddening his freckled cheeks.
“Slow down,” Kayla told him, holding Annie’s hair tight, “Fuck her slower.”
Daniel sucked in a sharp breath, obviously aching to speed the thrusting movements of his hips. But he did as he was told, fingers curling against Annie’s hipbones, the plumpness of her waist jiggling as the two of them moved in tandem. Her breasts swung, full and round, brushing against the sheets as she inclined her face downward, mouth working Kayla’s pussy enthusiastically.
Annie had suggested this. Kayla needed to work on her confidence, so Annie figured, what better way to accomplish that than by dominating the two of them? Kayla wasn’t into men, she never had been, but Daniel was polite and friendly, and she didn’t mind his presence here. She liked watching him fuck Annie, and she loved being in control of him. It was like she was fucking Annie, like she was responsible for every moan and whimper that passed Annie’s lips, like she was the one who was rocking Annie’s body from behind. She’d never considered herself a voyeur, but this was goddamn awesome.
“Touch her while you’re fucking,” Kayla breathed, both hands framing Annie’s face now, arching her hips upward as she sought the suction of Annie’s mouth, “Get her off.”
Daniel did as he was told, wrist arching, fingers seeking Annie’s pleasure. Annie groaned happily when he found it, her tongue caressing Kayla’s clit, slickness making her lips shine.
Kayla felt powerful, in ways she never had before.
Afterwards, they lay together. Annie and Kayla relaxed in bed, and Daniel went off to answer a phonecall. Throughout the sex he’d been relaxed and friendly (as platonically pleasant with Kayla as you could be while hilt-deep in your girlfriend’s pussy) but he fled the room quickly enough that Annie found herself wondering whether something was wrong.
“Is he okay?”
Annie smiled sleepily at her, sipping on a cup of coffee, tucked warmly into one of Daniel’s shirts. “He’s fine. Just got an important call, I think. From that boyfriend I mentioned to you.”
“Oh.” Kayla glanced toward the doorway, through which Daniel had so hastily departed. “This is really… fine with you? Both of you seeing other people?”
Annie let out a quiet giggle into the rim of her mug. “Well, you’d hardly be here if it wasn’t.”
“It’s just… amazing. I’m not sure I could ever share anybody I loved with someone else.”
“That’s fine. Every relationship is different.” Annie blew gently on her coffee, a cloud of steam rising about her mouth. “Myself and Daniel are pretty unique.”
Kayla nodded. She folded her hands over her stomach, gazing up at the ceiling. She trailed her hands down the front of her chest, feeling the delicate white lace of her lingerie, bought specifically for this tryst. She liked how the intricate fabric looked against her skin, liked how the bra cupped her breasts. She was starting to see herself, starting to really believe in her own attractiveness. Annie was helping her change, helping her understand that there wasn’t only one way to be a woman, or one way to love another person.
As if sensing her lover’s internal musings, Annie’s fingers trailed across the bed. She took one of Kayla’s hands, a gentle touch that anchored them both in this moment.
“I think I’ll be able to talk to that lady, if I see her again,” Kayla said, a quiet pride in her voice, “that customer. And it’s all thanks to you, Annie. You’ve helped me so much. I…”
“Now, now,” Annie chuckled, “Don’t give me too much credit. You’ve done all the hard work.”
Daniel held his phone to his ear, running out onto the back porch. He accepted Brad’s call with a racing heart, his body still aching and warm, sex on his mind.
“Brad,” he said, trying not to sound too desperate, “It’s been a while, I thought you weren’t going to contact me again.”
“Sorry about that, baby boy,” Brad replied easily, the drawling tone of his voice sending shivers down Daniel’s spine, “I’ve been meaning to call. I’ve… met someone.”
Disappointment nestled, heavy and uncomfortable, in Daniel’s stomach. The phrasing was ambiguous, but the tone of Brad’s voice wasn’t. Daniel had liked Brad. He didn’t want their arrangement to end.
“He wants to be exclusive. And I really want to be with him. So, even though I really liked touching you… I probably can’t see you again. Not like that, anyway. Unless he wants to explore that kind of thing, someday.”
Daniel took a seat on one of the deckchairs, feeling sadder than he’d expected. Brad had been his first, after all. The first man to hold him down and make him feel bliss. He was going to miss those strong hands, that clever smile.
“I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I did have fun with you. You’re… really quite lovely, Daniel.”
Daniel closed his eyes, that compliment warming his cheeks, making his heart flutter.
“I have an idea. If you still want to feel the way I made you feel.”
Brad gave him the contact details of another incubus, a young man who he promised could satisfy Daniel in similar ways. Daniel found himself unexpectedly upset by this development, and when they hung up the call, he almost wanted to cry. It was stupid, to be so emotional about this; they’d only ever been lovers, only ever spent one long night together. But Brad had shown him things he’d never even known about himself, and that mattered. More than Daniel wanted to admit. He’d wanted the older man to be a presence in his life, in his bed.
He wandered back to where Annie and Kayla were relaxing, sipping coffee and laughing about something. They made a beautiful picture, curled together after sex, but Daniel only wanted his girlfriend beside him right now.
Annie met his eyes the moment he appeared in the doorway. Without exchanging a single word, it seemed she knew what had happened. She ushered Kayla from the bedroom, subtly suggesting she go shower, the other woman smart enough to take the hint.
“Baby,” Annie said softly, opening her arms, beckoning him over to where she was reclined, “baby, come here.”
Daniel crossed the room, laying down beside her. He rested his head on her lap, curling up, knees folded against his chest. She played with his hair, murmured soothing words.
“I really liked him,” he whispered.
“I know you did, Danny. I know you did. He liked you too, I promise.”
Brad hung up the phone. He sat back in Daryl’s wooden rocking chair, a woollen blanket draped over his thighs, boots loosely laced above worn jeans. He was tucked into a heavy flannel jacket that smelled strongly of pine needles and cigarettes. By his feet were pots of dainty purple flowers, Alaska Violets that Daryl had gathered from the stream and intended to replant in a garden by his front porch. Since giving up drinking, and making peace with the truth of his sexuality, he’d become far less machismo about his hobbies. He liked gardening. He liked things that looked nice. He was still gruff and cursed plenty, but was embracing this new side of himself. The only animals Daryl killed nowadays were freshwater fish, and he did so without bloodlust or the savagery so characteristic of his younger years. Brad fried the fish in butter, served them with garlic and pepper, their domestic lives intermingling so seamlessly.
Brad gazed out into the forest clearing, feeling oddly mournful. He was surprised by the quiet tapping of boots approaching him, Daryl emerging out from the cabin. A broad palm landed upon Brad’s shoulder, as Daryl leaned down to press a kiss against his head.
“I thought you were asleep,” Brad admitted quietly.
“I was, for a bit. Overheard you talking, though.” Daryl’s fingers moved to the nape of Brad’s neck, thumb stroking the soft curve between his neck and shoulder, beneath the collar of his jacket. “Seems you liked this boy.”
Brad smiled, looking upwards, happier now that Daryl was close. “Yeah. I did. He’ll be okay, though.”
Daryl wasn’t used to being openly emotional, but he was trying not to hold back when previous instincts would have mandated he nod curtly and walk away. He held Brad’s gaze, searching for honesty in those dark eyes.
“Will you be okay?”
Brad grinned, adoring the hesitant concern in Daryl’s voice. He wrapped his arms around Daryl’s waist, tugging him down onto his lap.
“You’re so cute when you’re worried about me,” he murmured, snuggling the back of Daryl’s neck.
Daryl blushed, trying to stand up. “Oh, piss off.”
Chapter 29: lesbian, romance, trans woman, gay, bisexual
My first commission is up! Thanks again to fnrc for sponsoring me, I really appreciate it, and I loved creating these characters with you!
To commission your own story from me, please visit my Patreon! Even $10 monthly could really help me out to cover costs, raise funds for surgery, and continue writing. I know this fic has a readership in the thousands, and if even a handful of you support me, that’ll go a long way to easing my burden. It’s a small amount for an individual to contribute, but it all adds up on my end… Please help out if you can, and fund ongoing erotic fiction!! Soon I hope to explore crossdressing and dirty roleplay between Annie and Daniel, along with some more monster fucking on Annie’s part (next chapter).
Stay tuned, provided I can get some Patreon supporters!
Lara’s fingers were entwined, the frilled fabric of her shirt bunching in her lap. She smoothed her palms over her thighs, felt the scrape of denim, tried to distract herself. The quiet conversation of nearby customers grated at her patience, heightening her social anxiety further. Some days, she just couldn’t handle being seen. Imagined stares settled against her skin like a tangible mass, her perception of herself warped by the judgement of others.
She tucked a wave of hair out of her eyes, fidgeting, nervous about what might happen today. She was nervous about everything. She didn’t want to go to work. Her transition had been grudgingly accepted by her co-workers, but they looked at her differently now. She needed to find a new job, but that would take time... time that she couldn’t afford to be wasting. The money was too good, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Especially beggars that had paid thousands of dollars on intensive reconstructive surgery. Working as a ballet instructor had been Lara’s dream, but her body ached from the dancing and the operations, and the joy of finally living as a woman had been tarnished by how difficult it was.
She knew she had to keep trying. She knew there were good times ahead, had seen the faces of older women, crinkled with kindness and wisdom, reassuring her that there was a world of femininity just waiting to embrace her. Someday, she knew, it would get easier. Someday, the tumultuous world around her would calm, accepting her truth.
So, here she was. Sitting in a café, getting a coffee before work. Going through the motions. Wrestling back her anxiety.
“Lara? Flat white for Lara?”
The voice that called her name was familiar. When Lara looked toward the counter, she saw the same barista who had taken her order a few weeks ago; the magnificent, elegant woman with dark skin and smooth lips.
Immediately crushed by nervousness, fretting that the attractive stranger would clock her as a trans woman, Lara rose from her seat. Her heart fluttered in her chest, cheeks heated by a blush. She made her quick, nervous way to the counter, trying not to get in anybody’s way, worried about being noticed.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, taking the coffee, avoiding the barista’s eyes. She turned away immediately, face ducked low.
Lara did, freezing in place. She turned back to the counter, perched on the precipice of a breakdown. What would the woman say? What was she thinking? Did she know? All of these questions raced through Lara’s mind, and she searched those dark eyes for answers, terrified that her relatively peaceful morning would take a violent turn into public humiliation.
The woman reached into her shirt pocket, producing a folded slip of paper. She held it out, and Lara couldn’t help but notice the rainbow bracelet that hung from that slender wrist. Confused, she took the piece of paper. On it, she read a scrawled line of numbers. A phone number.
“My name is Kayla,” the woman confessed, clearing her throat, “I don’t usually do this, and I’m… still figuring this all out, but… I think you’re really cute, so… Would you like to…?”
Lara stared at her, dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe someone so lovely could want her. But she couldn’t spot any evidence of a lie in Kayla’s face, so she had no reason to believe this was a ruse or a trick.
Her silence was taken as a rejection, and Kayla’s expression slackened, disappointment souring her shy smile.
“Sorry,” she began, obviously embarrassed, “If you’re not interested-”
“No, I’m…” Lara swallowed thickly, trying to steady her racing heart, “I’m… interested, it’s just… people don’t usually…”
Kayla waited for her to clarify, staring with undisguised eagerness. Nobody had paid Lara that much attention in a very, very long time. Usually, people looked at her with the kind of intrusive fixation only trans people had to endure. But Kayla looked enraptured, almost adoring. Like she actually wanted to hear Lara’s voice.
“I’m… not used to dating. People aren’t… usually interested.”
Kayla watched her for a beat of shocked silence, then laughed, sounding incredulous. “You’re lying!”
Lara was confused by her reaction. “I’m not.”
“That’s ridiculous. Who wouldn’t want to flirt with you?”
Lara blushed, looking down at her coffee to avoid Kayla’s genuine grin, sheepish and unable to keep from smiling too.
“Well,” Kayla continued, “text me sometime. I’m free on the weekends.”
Kayla watched the blonde customer striding from the café, clutching the coffee close to her chest, holding the piece of paper like it was a priceless gift. Before Lara left, she glanced back toward the counter, hair sweeping through the air like she was a model on a goddamn shampoo commercial. Kayla offered her another smile, and was relieved when the woman beamed back.
The front door gave a quiet ding when Lara exited, and only then did Kayla sag down onto the counter, head in her hands.
“Oh my goodness,” she groaned, “she was so hot, and I fucked that up so much…!”
From behind her, Annie chuckled, emerging out from the breakroom. She slapped a hand onto Kayla’s shoulder, patting her reassuringly.
“You did perfectly, babe. She’ll give you a text soon, I guarantee it.”
Lara got in her car, only able to believe that this was really happening because of the phone number in her palm.
She couldn’t stop smiling.
Meanwhile, Daniel was getting out of his car, boots landing upon the dusty ground. A farming estate stretched before him, impressive trees continuing as far as the eye could see, protected by white netting. He spied a man, partly concealed by luscious leaves, picking red apples with gloved hands. His sleeves were rolled up, midway over his forearms, a broad-brimmed hat throwing his face into shadow. The whole scene was bathed in sunlight, a rustic wooden house connected to the plantation.
Daniel checked his phone, confirming that he’d come to the right place. He slid his phone back into his pocket after a short moment and watched the man from a distance, somehow not surprised that Brad’s friend was a farmer. If he’d expected anything, it would be a man as connected to nature as Brad was. His name is Billy, Brad had told him over the phone, You’ll like him.
Daniel considered the stranger’s broad shoulders, the way his semi-buttoned shirt had been lazily thrown on, his sweat-slick sternum exposed to the sun. A wave of dark hair had escaped his hat, curling down onto his forehead, brushing his brow. He looked like a tanned manifestation of every paperback romance hero in existence. Daniel was still rubbed raw by Brad’s sudden departure from his life, mourning their connection more than he’d expected he would, but a sliver of curiosity made its way beneath his wounded heart. He could imagine this man against him, holding him down, touching him that same dominant way.
As if Billy had sensed him watching, or had heard his car roll up on the driveway, he turned from his apple-picking and toward Daniel. He plucked his hat off his head, waving it enthusiastically, beckoning Daniel over.
With a grin, Daniel walked toward him, grains of dirt and stones crunching beneath his shoes. His jeans were already starting to be coloured by dust, and he felt like a city boy out of his depth. He’d never set foot on a farm before, and found himself oddly nervy about their meeting. He was still learning how to actively be attracted to men, still figuring out that he could unashamedly embrace this part of himself. Annie had kissed him on the mouth before he’d left, told him in a soft voice, “I love you, baby.”
Remembering her words helped him to proceed with confidence.
He met Billy by the doorway to the man’s house. The porch was haggard and worn, full of personality and history, utterly different to the more modern home that Daniel inhabited with his girlfriend. The man himself looked fascinatingly weathered, too; he was young, probably Daniel’s age, but carried himself with the confidence of an older gentleman. His eyes were sloped and sleepy-looking, a sense of relaxation conveyed by his smile. An excited dog ran about his feet, bounding energetically up to Daniel.
“Down, boy,” Billy said kindly, patting his dog on the head, “Sorry about that. He gets pretty friendly whenever strangers come around. Worst guard dog ever, eh?”
Daniel grinned, scratching self-consciously at his neck, shy in this man’s company. “It’s okay. I like dogs.”
“You must be Daniel. Brad mentioned you.” Billy extended a welcoming palm. When Daniel shook his hand, the fingers that met his skin were calloused and strong; hard days and long working hours had etched personality into his grip. Daniel couldn’t decide whether he was embarrassed by his own smooth, unblemished skin, or whether he enjoyed the comparison. There was something lovely about being demure, youthful, boyish by the side of a stronger man. One night of every month, he was a roaring beast, unstoppable beneath the glow of a full moon; every other night, he was just an average guy. And he was starting to realise that he liked who he was. Turned out he had more depth than previous partners had ever given him credit for.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Daniel told him honestly, trying not to blush.
Billy grinned. He gestured to his front door. “Come on inside then, Daniel.”
As Annie worked, carrying cups of coffee and serving pastries, she thought of her boyfriend. A sense of delight, of love and pride, was blooming within her. She was thrilled that Daniel was moving onto new experiences, finding another man to experiment with.
Annie had always held an unconventional view of love. She didn't believe there was one kind of love, or that love necessarily needed to be lifelong. Enjoying a person's body, accompanying them for a part of their journey, was sometimes all that a person needed. She wanted Daniel to experience all spectrums of sexuality and love, wanted him to be touched and teased and enlightened. Maybe it was because she was a succubus, maybe it was because Daniel was so faithful– either way, their polyamorous arrangement was bound by genuine adoration for each other.
That would never change.
She idly thought of her army in the forest, the wolves and beasts that awaited her commands, hungry for whatever order she gave them. Appearing as an ordinary waitress to her customers, she thought of the cocks that were so eager to service her, find satisfaction in the embrace of her body. Her enthusiasm for Daniel's sex life was undeterred, but she did want to find her own satisfaction... And sometimes, human partners just weren't enough.
She decided that she'd take a trip to the forest tonight.
Chapter 30: bestiality, lizard monster, incubus, consensual non-con, daddy kink, trans man
Billy’s visual inspiration came from this portrait, and this series. Billy, unlike Brad, is a pre-op trans guy. Most writers tend to infantilise pre-op trans men, as if we’re all barely-of-age femme bottom twinks, when that couldn’t be any further from the truth. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a femme bottom twink, but I get suspicious when cis writers consistently write trans men like women, and emphasise the girlishness of their bodies. It makes me kinda disgusted, and it’s also notoriously uncreative. (Just think: would fanfic writers get away with constantly masculinising trans women? Nope. But for some reason, feminising trans men is okay…. Weird, huh?) So, here we go! A dominant pre-op trans guy!! Hope y’all enjoy.
Oh yeah, and. Dirty nasty monster fucking for Annie. Back to the classics ;)
Billy’s house was sparsely furnished, plants crowding every windowsill, clutter and greenery filling the space. He went onward into his bedroom, stripping down to his underwear, shucking dusty jeans and a sweat-drenched shirt, discarding them carelessly on his wooden floor. Daniel watched the rolling motions of his body, shoulder blades pronounced as he lifted his arms, shirt lifted to reveal a defined physique. The smooth angle of his waist, so invitingly sloped, led down to the pert shape of his ass beneath cotton. Daniel leaned against the doorway, heat pooling in his groin, hungry for what would come next.
“So,” Billy began, turning to face his new lover, drawing a hand through his dark curls, “You and Brad were together.”
Daniel nodded, determinedly keeping his eyes locked on Billy’s gaze, much as he wanted to let his attention wander between those defined thighs.
“Well, I,” he stammered out his answer, “We spent… some time together. It didn’t go any further than that. But he… he was my first, so…”
“So he was significant to you.”
Billy’s voice was soft, understanding. Daniel nodded again, not trusting himself to speak too much. Billy watched him silently for a good long moment, and it was only then that Daniel noticed how gorgeous his eyes were. Emerald green hues brightened by the sunlight that pierced them, rays dancing about his irises. Behind him, his bed awaited, beckoning Daniel forward.
“You knew about his history?”
Daniel frowned. “What history?”
“You knew he was trans.”
“Oh.” Daniel hadn’t expected that to come up. “I mean, yeah. I saw his scars. It seemed pretty irrelevant.”
Billy considered that for a second more, then ducked his head, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband of his underwear. Without hesitation, he pulled them down, bending to tug them from his feet, toss them aside. When he straightened up, his expression was calm, but he was obviously waiting to see what Daniel would do.
The flat of his torso narrowed into hipbones and a muscled groin, as with all men, a thatch of hair between the beginnings of his thighs. But the weight of a cock was absent, flesh flat where Daniel would have expected it to be full, an absence that he immediately understood.
Daniel supposed many men would be taken aback, or surprised. But, once the shock faded, Daniel just considered the entirety of the man who stood before him. His broad shoulders, his easy stance, his sculpted face and solid forearms. This didn’t change much, especially given his eager enjoyment of all kinds of genitals. He could see this working, could imagine himself pinned down to the bed, Billy riding him hard, the grip of his body and the tightness of a cock ring driving Daniel to the brink of insanity. He would not allowed to come until Billy let him. He looked into the incubus’ hooded eyes and could see power there; power he wanted to be crushed by.
Daniel licked his lips, heart beating faster now. “I want you to dominate me,” he began, voice almost trembling from how aroused he’d become, “Can you do that?”
Billy smirked. “Absolutely.”
“What do you want me to… Is there anything you’d like me to say? Or not say?”
“You can call it a pussy, cunt, hole. I don’t care. Long as you see me as a man.”
“Oh, I do,” Daniel whispered, “I do. That’s why I want you to fuck me.”
Billy took several slow, striding steps from the bed, until their bodies were close. He reached out, offering neither explanation nor small talk, unbuckling Daniel’s belt and undoing his jeans. Daniel’s breath hitched, his hands balling into fists by his side, but he didn’t dare move. Fuck, this was the stuff of heaven. Billy wasn’t bothering with overtures of machismo, wasn’t yelling or bullshitting. All he had to do was stake his claim with slow, confident movements.
He slid Daniel’s belt free, leather hushing against denim. Clever hands looped it around Daniel’s neck, buckle sliding up to meet skin. Loose enough that there was no threat of danger, just tight enough that Daniel had to tilt up his chin, lips parting to take a shivering, excited breath. The space between them felt electric, and all Daniel wanted to do was be touched. He was dizzy with the ecstasy of surrendering to an absolute stranger. Billy leaned forward, their lips brushing, but not in a proper kiss. Leaving his submissive wanting.
“Call me a boy,” Daniel breathed, his whisper touching against Billy’s cheek, “Dominate me-”
The belt tightened incrementally, words choked back.
“Please,” Daniel clarified hurriedly, cock tenting the underside of his pants, “Please.”
The belt loosened, and Daniel exhaled. Billy grinned.
That night, Annie walked barefoot through the forest. She was wearing a short white dress, hem fluttering against her thighs, lace hugging the shape of her breasts. She’d worn her hair out, blonde waves tumbling down her shoulders, shining bright when she passed beneath the glow of the moon. She was every helpless, pretty victim from every horror film, wailing prettily for voyeurs, clothes begging to be torn by monstrous attackers.
It was a delightful disguise. The same innocent, wide-eyed thing she’d been on that first night, struggling beneath the bulk of a wolf as it fucked her relentlessly. The whimpering virgin who had been defiled in her bed by an irresponsible older man, his heavy hands forcing her to take pleasure she was too young to resist. Poor little red riding hood.
Annie enjoyed being queen. She had taken to the power as naturally as any leader, excelled in her dominion over creatures of immortal strength. But, sometimes, she needed this. Besides, it didn’t hurt to give her army a taste of her flesh.
Best to keep them addicted.
Her psychic bond had solidified, tendrils of influence whispering through the air, linking her to the beasts. They knew she was in command. They knew that what was about to occur was at her behest, and nothing less. They were puppets of her desire, taking only what she would give.
She could feel Daniel’s pleasure, feel his every inhale and exhale, the hands that teased his body, the mouth that drove him to ecstasy. It hummed through her, as real as the wind against her skin, bringing a smile to her face. Violence, domination, submission, elation; a dance that never ended, a drug they would forever enjoy. As she moved through the darkness, she was buoyed by his visceral excitement. They would both be fucked, tonight.
They would both love it.
Footsteps rushed up to her, leaves and twigs snapping beneath heavy heels, rabid breaths hissing through a clenched jaw. She spun around with a gasp, as if she might resist, as if she was really going to fight. A body collided with her, knocking the wind from her lungs, sending her sprawling onto her back.
She gasped, trying to inhale, but her attacker gave her no time. Before she could even begin to protest, her dress was being shoved up, legs wrenched apart. A giant, already-dripping cock stabbed at her pussy, the head too large to fit.
“No, no,” she screamed, arching up off the ground, flailing wildly, “Stop it…!”
A snarling face, features distorted by an animalistic sneer, growled against her cheek. She wailed as the monster’s cock slid inside in a brutal shove, filling her so completely, burning from lack of preparation.
“No, no, no! Take it out! Take it out! Someone help m- mmh!”
The thing slammed a giant hand over her face, blanketing her mouth and nose so completely that she struggled to breathe, body rocked violently in place as she was fucked. It grunted and huffed above her, hips hammering back and worth with no consideration for her comfort, defiling and claiming her.
In the quiet of Billy’s house, the incubus tore down Daniel’s walls so intimately, using only the movements of his body. He arched his hips and swivelled his waist, naked in Daniel’s lap, the man beneath him bound to the bedhead and helplessly pinned.
“God,” Daniel gasped, “You feel amazing,”
Billy was smoking, cigarette held up in one hand, the curve of his ass flush against Daniel’s skin. He was the epitome of masculinity, lean and muscular, the wetness of his cunt painting slick, shining fluid against Daniel’s groin, a rigid cock deep inside him. They were filthy and wet, the two of them, and Billy was the most magnificent contradiction. Filthy and proud, not one indication of shame in his movements, bright eyes apathetic to Daniel’s whines for relief. A dominant being who knew how to use his body, knew how to ruin men so completely.
The bed creaked in tandem with his relentless rhythm, and the silence between them only served to magnify every gasp and moan, profound in ways that made Daniel flush. He felt exposed, helpless. Vulnerable.
As if that wasn’t enough, they could both feel an echo of sensation, a throb of distant pleasure.
“I can feel it,” Daniel breathed, overwhelmed and nearly broken already, “I can feel her,”
Billy could, too. The succubus was calling to him, magnifying his connection to this pretty wolf. But he didn’t let emotion show on his face, further than a sneer of contempt that they both knew was false.
“It’s too much,” Daniel sobbed, head thrown to the side, “I can’t,”
Billy drew his arm back, hand pausing for only a moment before his palm swung down, connecting with Daniel’s cheek with a vicious crack. Daniel stiffened, gasping– his hips jerked upward, lashes fluttering, crying out as the pain pushed him over the edge.
The incubus waited until the wolf had finished coming. Once he was limp and quiet, Billy leaned down, seizing Daniel’s face in an unforgiving grip. Daniel whimpered, trembling now, cheeks squeezed painfully.
“Did I say you could come, slut?”
“No, daddy,” Daniel whispered, panting hotly, words distorted by the grip on his face.
“Bad boys like you deserve to be punished.”
“I can’t take it, daddy. Please stop. Please don’t…”
Billy straightened up, ignoring the whispered pleas. He had a drag of his cigarette, inhaling a lungful of smoke, taking his time. Then he began to ride Daniel mercilessly, ass slapping against Daniel’s thighs, brutally unconcerned for his partner’s overstimulated body.
The boy begged him to stop, begged for it to end.
He kept going.
The wolfman tore Annie’s dress, fragile lace so brutally destroyed. Her breasts bounced every time the monster thrust into her, and eventually, she gave up fighting. She lay, silent and helpless, head lolling. The wolf had been suffocating her with its palm, and she hovered on the brink of unconsciousness, eyes glazed and unfocussed.
The wolf’s growls grew louder and louder, and within no time at all, the creature was coming inside her, impregnating his bitch. He stayed, crouched over her, puffing as he hammered his release inside.
When he pulled out, white liquid poured from her cunt.
She gasped for air when he let her go, her vision dotted with specks of light, the murky forest shimmering back into view. From where she was collapsed, she could see giant, hair-covered feet walking away from the scene of the crime. But she didn’t have time to catch her breath or even think about escaping, because the ground shook when yet another body landed atop her with a deafening thud.
“No, no, please…”
Her begging was, predictably, ignored.
Where there had previously been fur and skin, she was now being raped by a scaly creature, a reptilian face hovering above her in the darkness. A forked tongue painted sickening saliva down the side of her face, and she sobbed, the scaled tip of a cock pressing against her cunt.
“Don’t, please, stop…!”
The creature pushed inside. It fucked faster and more furiously than the wolf, hissing delightedly as she cried, cold-blooded black eyes looking down on her.