CONTENT WARNING: sexual content, multiple partners, monster sex, mpreg/eggs
Naema dragged Pascal and Tomas back to the cushions, chairs, and tables. Naema begrudgingly took a seat in one of the chairs after Tomas specifically directed her to one. Lilian tutted and set aside her knitting, smiling fondly at the two.
"What would our husband say if he knew you were taking such poor care of yourself?" Lilian chided, settling her fingers across her lap.
Naema pinked and tossed her brown braid over one shoulder. "You wouldn't!"
Cassum sighed and shook his head, glancing at Tulie, who laughed.
"You're carrying our husband's young. Do you really think he wouldn't order you to bedrest if he knew you tried to sit on the ground?" Tomas interjected before he took a spot on a cushion.
Glancing about, Pascal finally knelt on a cushion and sat, leaning against the table in front of him.
"So… all of us are married to him?" Pascal asked, wonder in his eyes and voice.
"Oh yes," Tulie said with a smile, her face showing evidence of age and smile lines. "While I can guess what the village told you, throw all of that aside. You are safe here. No one will eat you."
"Unless you wish to be eaten before you die of old age," Cassum mentioned with a shrug. "I hear Gabriel is trying to get our husband to agree to it since he was around when Andromeda asked for the same."
"E-eaten?" Pascal squeaked, eyes widening.
Lilian tutted, waving a wrinkled hand in the air. "Pay them no mind, youngling. You have no need to worry about such things. You are young and will live long. Our husband extends our lives and gives us all we could ever ask for."
Pascal nodded, dropping his eyes to his hands. "He—he hasn't explained my duties yet."
Lilian hummed as if she expected that. "Our husband does not tend to, as he feels it's a bombardment on our first night. Our duties entail the care and satisfaction of the residents of the forest; the sustainment of the forest; carrying our husbands young; caring for the young in the hatchery, and then once they leave it. You'll start those duties tomorrow."
The boy blinked at the words and turned his eyes to study all those gathered around him.
"I—I'm not sure I understand," Pascal said slowly. "I'm male. I do not have—well…."
It was Cassum's turn to chuckle. "It doesn't matter what you are or what you're equipped with; our husband's probably already impregnated you with eggs. Once the eggs are too large to stay in you, you'll lay them in the hatchery with the others and help us tend to them."
Tulie nodded, smiling still. "I myself have just laid my last clutch. I am too old to carry anymore, so I'll only be caring for the hatchery and the forest. Too bad, though. I will miss the feel of our husband inside me."
Cassum flushed and rubbed at his neck. "A-anyways. I'm guessing he didn't tell you about satisfying the forest residents, or at least not in detail."
His cheeks red from the discussion and his mind reeling, Pascal shook his head. "Only in passing."
"Yeah, so… once the eggs start to develop inside you, you're going to start feeling some things," Cassum started, his cheeks a deep red. "And during this time, you'll be able to satisfy all the forest residents without issue."
"I—I don't follow."
Tomas cleared his throat and took over. "The residents are beasts and monsters. They have violent urges. Instead of letting the residents take out those urges on the villages in the area and causing irreparable damage to the human populace, we—the Wives of the God of Beasts—use our bodies to satisfy and calm them. While we carry their Master's eggs, we smell irresistible to the residents and far more enticing than humans."
"Y-you mean we…." Pascal's mouth dried up as he imagined the scene. Talons of different beasts tugging at his limbs, fangs nibbling along his skin, fur brushing his sides—
"We let the residents fuck us," Tulie said with a shrug. "It keeps everyone safe and, honestly, we need it. You'll see what we mean. You'll start to experience it soon enough. The eggs will develop to that stage within a week."
As the wives had said, his belly began to swell within the week as he tried to adjust to his duties; his body began to feel warm and uncomfortable, unsatisfied. He tried to mimic what Daenris had done to him that first night, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough.
In a daze, wondering where Daenris had gone, Pascal wandered from his room. Like a ghost, he drifted through the natural corridors, brushing his fingers along the lichen and vine-covered walls. The creatures and beasts he passed stopped to scent the air, drool dripping from their maws. Claws dug into the stone floors as beasts leaned closer but dared not approach.
In his daze, Pascal wandered into a copse of trees, the silvery moonlight bathing his body. Leaves and branches crunched and crackled beneath a myriad of claws, paws, tails, and talons. The sounds tugged at Pascal until he blinked and glanced about, realization crashing upon him.
He stood in the center of the trees, his bare feet chilled with the loam of the earth and the glistening dew of the grass, his frame covered in little more than his lightweight nightgown. Threaded through the trees were innumerable eyes gleaming with night shine. Scales and glittering chitin shimmered in the moonlight. Pascal caught glimpses of fur illuminated by the moons through the leaves and branches.
Swallowing hard, Pascal hugged himself, bunching the nightgown around his middle.
"W-what… what is it?" No matter how long he lived among the beasts, the boy didn't think he'd ever get used to their eyes on him—or being surrounded by the creatures he'd always been taught to fear.
"Honored Wife," one of the beasts rumbled through mandibles, one long articulated leg covered in shiny black chitin and spindles. "You have mated with our Master. Is it time for us? For our mating with the Honored Wife?"
Shivering at the words, Pascal bit his lip and let his gaze roam the thicket. More than a dozen—likely more than two dozen—creatures waited in the trees, leaning forward to catch every word.
With his heated body, and his building libido, Pascal remembered the words of the other wives. They had warned him of this. It was one of his duties.
Right?
Swallowing down his trepidation, Pascal shivered and haltingly replied, "I— Yes. I-I suppose it is. H-how do... do I go to each of your rooms?"
A couple chitters and snuffles as the beasts drew centimeters closer.
"No, Honored Wife…" another beast explained through a long muzzle filled with sharp fangs. "Here will do nicely." The beast stepped from the shadows of the trees, fully into the moonlight. Standing on two muscular legs covered in thick brown fur, the beast resembled an enormous wolf; nothing encircled his waist, and a long red cock stood proudly from the thick coat. The beast sniffed at the air with his dark muzzle and licked his maw, slowly blinking bright blue eyes.
Pascal squeaked and shook still, but he slowly sank to the grass until he knelt on his knees. His mouth dried as he watched each beast step from the trees on claws, paws, or scaly tails.
An insectoid creature brushed past the branches of the trees, his wings buzzing on his back. Long antennae twitched as he stepped forward until he stood beside the wolfman.
A crunching, slithering slide of scales along the earth caught Pascal's attention, and the boy glanced over his shoulder in time to see a serpentine creature with a humanoid torso. Only the humanoid portion appeared dried out, skin taught over-pronounced bones, with stretched talon-like fingers. The creature's face barely resembled a humanoid with a parted lower jaw and extended fangs. Waterfalls of oily hair obscured much of the creature's face—except for the milky white eyes.
Pascal's eyes widened as the creature slithered up to him and brushed the talon-like fingers across his cheek.
"Honored Wife, there remains nothing to fear in this forest," the creature hissed out, a serpentine forked tongue slithering out with the words. "But if you wish, you may drink this and experience only the pleasure of this night. It will have no other effect."
In the creature's other hand, held out for the boy, was a small clay bottle with a cork stopper.
The jar tempted Pascal, and he nearly reached for it. Fisting his fingers into his nightgown, he straightened his back and asked, "Did any of the others take it?"
"Indeed," the creature hissed, nodding, "and still do. Honored Wife Tomas and Honored Wife Tulie especially."
Ducking his head, Pascal held out his hand for the jar. "T-then… please."
With one hand, the creature stroked Pascal's head; with the other, the creature placed the jar in Pascal's palm. "It will take effect quickly. You only need a sip."
Though his hand shook, Pascal managed to tug the cork from the neck and take a sip without spilling the liquid on himself. The tonic burned going down, making him think it might be alcohol, but it didn't smell or taste like any alcohol he knew. Licking his lips, Pascal returned the bottle. The creature replaced the cork, and it suddenly warped and vanished.
The crunching of leaves had Pascal turning, and the boy watched as more creatures stepped into the clearing. Massive hulking beasts with rippling muscles under forest-green skin, willowy wisps of tattered cloth, reptilian and canine creatures walking on two legs, goat-legged satyrs, and more Pascal could not fathom filled the clearing. From the way most stayed back near the treeline while the wolfman and insect spoke together in a language Pascal did not understand, the boy had a feeling there was a hierarchy to this process.
A wave of heated pleasure suddenly rolled through Pascal, causing him to clutch at his middle and bite his lip to contain a moan. From everything he'd been told, Pascal knew it was the liquid and his hormones interacting together. That must be it—
A soft, claw-tipped hand soothed over his hair, enticing Pascal to look up. The wolfman leaned over him, petting his hair.
"By your smell, I can tell you are ready," the wolfman rumbled. His grip on Pascal's hair suddenly increased, and the wolfman tugged Pascal's head back, making the boy yelp. A long tongue covered in saliva dove into Pascal's open mouth. The wolfman's other hand went to Pascal's nightgown and tore through the fabric, exposing his pale flesh to the elements.
Growls of desire rolled through the clearing as the wolfman pushed Pascal to his back. The wolfman's muzzle snuffled down the boy's front, claws shoving away torn fabric. That long, coarse tongue trailed his neck, his collarbone, his pectorals, and nipples. With the rough attention of the wolfman's tongue, the boy squirmed and writhed, gasped, and moaned.
Then the muzzle shoved Pascal's legs apart and licked from his taint to the tip of his hardening cock. Pascal yelped and jolted, trying to twist away from the sensation, but strong talons on the ends of chitin-covered arms held the boy in place. Mandibles clicked and clacked above him as the wolfman's muzzle parted wider. That long tongue licked Pascal's inner thighs, following the line of his legs to his crotch. The tip of the muscular tongue poked at his hole, and Pascal gasped when the muscle pushed past his outer ring.
Pascal's hips bucked and twisted until the wolfman's hands gripped the boy's hips and held him still. The boy whined as the tongue explored inside his body, diving deep and tasting all of him. The wolfman growled in pleasure and sat back on his heels, licking his maw. He lifted his muzzle up to the canopy and howled. Excited chitters, screeches, and answering howls filled the air.
"Our Honored Wife is primed!" the wolfman howled. He leveled a toothy grin at Pascal, but the hazy feeling from the liquid had spread through his limbs and numbed his reactions. A shiver of anticipation rolled through him, and the boy panted on the ground. His thighs squeezed shut and squirmed as he watched the wolfman—as the wolfman watched him.
"Honored Wife, I, Lascus Whitefang, vow to protect you. All of my pack will follow," the wolfman rumbled. "I shall be the first to take you tonight."
Pascal had no chance to respond before the wolfman shifted the boy's knees until the backs of his thighs rested against the wolfman's chest. Pascal could feel the molten heat of the beast's cock. The wolfman rubbed the tip of his leaking head against Pascal's hole and thrust his shaft up through Pascal's thighs for a moment of friction. A pleasured growl reverberated in the beast's chest before his cock breached Pascal.
The boy's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. Though there was no pain, there was only the pressure of being filled so suddenly. Then the pleasure crashed over him as the wolfman's rhythm hit his nerves over and over. The boy clutched at the chitin arms holding him in place as he cried out, moaned, and writhed.
The wolfman took his pleasure quickly, spearing the boy on his thick cock. When he finished, the bug-like creature holding Pascal took his place. Pascal had never imagined he would open himself up to an insect of all things, but there was no room for argument as tentacles wrapped around his arms and chest. Whatever concern Pascal had about being taken by a bug-like creature died as an odd phallic-shaped tentacle pressed past his open lips.
Pascal choked on the tentacle as his gag reflex tried to expel the intrusion, but the thing squirmed further down his throat. It left him enough room to breathe and half-swallow, but tears still built in his eyes. He didn't notice when another beast took the insect’s place. The overwhelming sensations pulled at his attention, tugging him in all directions.
Cum splattered his chest, his stomach, his neck, his cheeks, his thighs. Saliva glistened over his flesh as his chest heaved for breath. And under him, his nightshirt lay in tatters, serving as the only thing keeping his pale flesh from the cold ground.
Chitters and snuffles sounded around him again, pulling him from his daze. Striding through the trees and the gathered creatures who parted for him was the God of Beasts. His dark ash-grey flesh gleamed under the light of the moons, muscles flexing with each step.
Are you satisfied, my children? Daenris questioned, his bone-white eyes roaming the gathered creatures. Many lingered after their turn.
But now, the creatures bowed low and backed away from Pascal and the god.
Daenris strode to Pascal's side, kneeling beside the boy. He smoothed a hand over the boy's sweat-soaked hair.
And you, my little lamb? Are you satisfied?
Pascal nearly answered in the affirmative. But he realized, last minute, that none of this had even come close to his husband.
This—this—is what the other wives had meant.
"No," Pascal found himself saying, "I need you to be truly satisfied."
The god hummed in amusement, his talons running over the boy's swelling abdomen, and he moved to kneel between Pascal's legs. As you wish.
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