Shifters, Beasts, and Monsters (54 page)

Tears stung in the corners of Beauty’s eyes as she rode, and
she told herself they were tears of relief. She was free. She would never need
to see him again.

And she cried.

Suddenly, André skidded to a stop. He snorted, backing up,
frightened.

Oh no. Not again.

She heard the voices before she saw them - other riders in
the forest, a group of men, approaching her slowly. Beauty’s heart tightened.
Something about their bearing told her that their intentions were not good.

One of the men stopped his horse just a few feet away from
her, holding his lantern high. The others gathered around, slowly blocking her
in.

“M’lady,” said the leader. “What’s a lovely girl like
yourself doing out in the woods alone, so late at night? Don’t you know the
dangers?”

“I’m not afraid,” said Beauty.

“All the same,” the leader went on. “Perhaps we ought to
escort you. Surely, you could use the protection.”

“I’ll be just fine on my own. Thank you.” Beauty fought to
keep her voice steady.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” He grinned, fiercely. “Of
course, we’ll require a bit of a reward. But that won’t be a problem. Will it,
love?”

He came closer. André snorted and stepped back, beginning to
panic and step in a circle when he realized there was nowhere to go.

“Come on, darling,” said the man. “Don’t make this more
difficult than it has to be.”

And with that, Beauty let out the longest, loudest shriek
that she could find in her lungs.

The leader of the group jumped off his horse, running to
Beauty and grabbing her leg. He ripped her off of André’s back, and one of
others dismounted and ran to grab André’s reins and restrain him. He bucked
wildly, trying in vain to stomp the leader with his hooves.

“You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life, you
worthless quim,” the leader snarled, clamping his hand over Beauty’s mouth. She
struggled wildly as he shoved her down into the dirt, holding her down by her
neck as he knelt over her.

Out of the darkness, there was a great crashing noise as if
a large animal were running through the underbrush. Beauty’s heart leapt. Was
it too much to hope that the beast had heard her?

At first he was unrecognizable, just a dark blur launching
itself at the leader of the bandits. But then Beauty heard his growl and knew
it was her beast - all claws and teeth, tearing at them until all they could do
was limp away.

The beast’s chest was still heaving with exertion when he
rushed to her side.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, looking up into his bright, clear, and somehow
still-so-human eyes. He was worried. He actually cared. Even though he’d let
her go, without the expectation of ever seeing her again, he wanted her to be
safe.

How could she deny him his last chance to be human again?

“How long do you have?” she whispered. “To break the curse?”

The beast’s face was unreadable. “Not long,” he said. “But
there’s still time.”

“Then let’s not waste any more of it.”

The beast was frozen for a moment, disbelieving. Then he
reached down and lifted her gently, carrying her bridal- style through the
trees. André followed behind, snorting nervously.

The beast carried her all the way back to the castle,
through the gate, through the massive doors and up the grand staircase. He laid
her out on the bed in her room, where the fire was roaring, as if he’d been
expecting her to come back.

The beast leaned down and nuzzled her
breasts through the fabric of her dress, until she shivered and grabbed the fur
on the sides of his head. He plucked hesitantly at the laces of her dress, his
claws ill-equipped to unlace them properly. But when she sighed and arched
encouragingly up towards him, he growled softly and ripped it open, just like
in her dream.

As her dress fell away, she stretched out on the bed like a
virgin sacrifice, feeling reckless and wanton. Her feelings for this beast
didn’t make sense, and she didn’t want them to - she just wanted to feel him,
wanted him to plant his seed inside of her. She pulled herself upright and
reached out towards his hardening member, wanting to feel it twitch and grow in
her hand. She could hardly get her fist around it, but she tried, relishing the
soft noises he made as she stroked it clumsily. It was hot and stiff, and the
head of it swelled a little as she watched.

On impulse, she leaned forward and lapped at it with her
tongue, as he had done to her. He let out a shaky groan. He tasted musky,
earthy, like something just picked out of the garden. Below his rod, a large
sac hung low and heavy, like a prize stallion. Beauty reached down and cupped
one of his balls in her hand, as well as she could, squeezing ever so gently.
His claws flexed.

“Lie down,” he rumbled, and Beauty obeyed, collapsing back
onto the mattress. He took hold of her legs, one in each hand, pushing them
upwards so that her knees were slightly bent and her sex was completely exposed
and open to him.

“This will hurt,” he said.

Beauty nodded and closed her eyes.

She almost screamed at the sudden burst of pain, as
something inside of her tore. But it was over in a moment, replaced by the
incredible feeling of fullness that came with having his massive manhood deep
inside of her. His thrusts were so slow, so gentle, as her virgin body
stretched to accommodate him. Beauty hadn’t expected a coupling with a monster
to be like this, but he was treating her like a priceless treasure.

For a while.

As she began to acclimate, growing accustomed to the feel of
him, he could see the tension melt from her face, her body, and he began to let
his control slip. He thrust into her harder, faster, hitting a place so deep
inside of her that she felt as if she might shatter into pieces. The pleasure
was so different, so much more intense, than the caresses of his tongue had
been. She realized that she was moaning with every breath.

He was growling now, and she swore she could feel him
growing longer and harder inside of her. She writhed and squirmed underneath
him, her hips jerking up to meet his movements, each one sending a jolt of
pleasure through her core. She felt it building, from her toes to the roots of
her hair. Her whole body was going numb except for the place where they were
connected.

It hit her suddenly - the tension grew unbearable, and then
it broke, leaving her moaning and shuddering with pleasure. The beast managed a
few more uneven thrusts before he came to a stop, roaring, his claws digging
into the bedclothes as Beauty felt the head of his manhood swelling and
swelling inside of her. Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly be
stretched any more, it stopped, and she felt a powerful surge of his seed, then
another, and another. It pooled inside of her, filling her completely, the
swollen head of his sex holding every drop inside of her.

They remained like that, interlocked, for a long while.
Beauty felt strangely content. After a time she felt him beginning to soften,
and then finally he slipped out of her, followed by a pool of his seed spilling
out onto the bed.

“How will you know if it worked?” Beauty asked, softly.

The beast stood, taking in a deep breath through his
nostrils. “I suppose I’ll -”

And with that, he was knocked off of his feet by some invisible
force. Beauty bolted out of bed, running to his side and leaning over him where
he lay, convulsing on the floor. His eyes had glazed over and he was shaking
like a leaf. As she watched, he began to change. Minutely at first, and then
all at once - the fur - the tail - the ears, the face, his whole body -
transforming from that of a beast into that of a man.

When the change was done, she gasped, reaching out to touch
him hesitantly. He stirred and groaned softly.

Other than the long white scar on his side, the same he had
shown her by the gate, the only sign that he was the same was his long, dark
hair.

And - she realized as he opened them - his eyes.

He sat up slowly, looking dazed. The first thing he looked
at was his hands. He flexed his fingers experimentally, then looked up at
Beauty with a dazzling smile on his face.

He was so handsome. Beauty felt herself blush.

“Master! Master!” The old woman’s voice came from far down
the hall. Beauty hastily picked up her ruined dress and wrapped it around herself,
tossing a sheet over to her lover to cover himself as well, moments before the
nursemaid ran into the room.

And she was an old woman no longer - plump and rosy-cheeked,
smiling, light on her feet for the first time in so many years. She came to a
dead stop when she saw their disheveled state, and backed out of the room
slowly, averting her eyes to the floor.

“My apologies, sir,” she said. “I forgot myself.”

“It’s no matter,” said the man who was once a beast. “I
think such a thing can be forgiven on an occasion like this.”

The nursemaid beamed, retreating back down the hallway.

“She’ll be so happy,” he said, quiet and thoughtful. “Now
that there’s to be a baby in the house again.”

Beauty smiled, resting a hand on her stomach. Before long,
it would be swelling with child, her body growing and becoming a vessel for the
baby. But for now there was just her, and this man, and whatever life they
might make for themselves together, raising the new life they had created.

He looked at her suddenly, wonderingly, as if he were
realizing for the first time what she’d done for him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I…how can I ever repay you?”

Beauty smiled.

“I’ll have to think on that,” she said.

And Beauty did.

Breeding with the Beast 2: Mate to the Monsters

Most of the time, Beauty didn’t even think about how strange
it all was.

Her love story began with being kidnapped in the woods by a
monstrous creature, who eventually proved to be a prince under the influence of
a strange curse. The only way to break it was to give over the use of her womb
– to allow him to impregnate her, fearsome though he was, for then, and
only then, could he turn into human again.

Beauty had refused, of course. But after he set her free and
then saved her from bandits in the forest as she tried to make her way home,
Beauty gave in to her increasingly wanton feelings for the beast.

And so it was that Beauty broke the curse.

There was something to be said for having a lover who owed
her an eternal debt of gratitude. In those first few weeks living in the
castle, she wanted for nothing, never needing to lift a finger. He didn’t want
her to go riding – he barely wanted to let her out of bed – but she
convinced him anyway, laughing at his nervous hesitation. He’d turned into a
worried expectant father already.

No, it wasn’t an ordinary love story. That was certain. But
Beauty wouldn’t have rewritten it any other way.

Except, perhaps, for one thing.

The prince hadn’t touched her since the first time they made
love.

Beauty didn’t really mind at first, but it was starting to
nag at her more and more. A virgin when he’d taken her, she still hadn’t been
with a
man
. Not really. She had no idea what he’d feel like, what he’d
look like, how he’d make
her
feel, as a man rather than a monster. And
she didn’t like that one bit.

She slept alone, in the same bedroom where he’d deflowered
her, watching the embers burning low in her fireplace each night and thinking
about what might happen if she walked the long hallway down to his chamber and
climbed into his bed. Would he be able to resist her? Or would she feel him
growing hard as she straddled his hips, pressing her heat down on him until he
couldn’t resist her any longer?

Beauty touched herself when she thought of this, feeling
herself grow hot and wet and swollen under her own fingers, until pleasure
coursed through her veins and she had to choke back her moans. And when she
imagined the prince taking her again, he was always, always, in the form of a
beast.

It was two months after Beauty moved into the castle that
the prince went on his first hunt. He was loathe to leave her alone, but his
beloved nursemaid, Florence, promised to take good care of her. And she did
– but not in the way that the prince intended, to be sure. As soon as he
was gone, Beauty was allowed to be up and about as much as she pleased, to tend
to the gardens and ride her horse without a single complaint or admonition. It
was glorious.

The prince was to return in a fortnight, but he did not
arrive when he’d promised – nor the next day, nor the next. Florence kept
reassuring her that this was perfectly normal, that he must have been delayed
and would return soon – but with each passing day, her smile grew more
strained. Beauty lay awake in bed most nights, sometimes drifting in and out of
a fitful sleep. Her stomach was beginning to grow. She felt as if it were her
fault, somehow; the relief she’d felt at his being away was somehow preventing
him from coming home safely.

Then, one night, a full seven days after he was to return,
she was jolted out of sleep by a long, unearthly howl.

She sat bolt upright in bed, listening to it, her heart
hammering inside her chest. She knew that sound. But it couldn’t be.

Throwing on her dressing-gown, Beauty ran down the long
stone staircase, bursting out of the front door and raced barefoot through the
garden. When she was some distance away from the castle, she stopped and looked
up.

The outline of his shape, sitting on top of the one of the
parapets, was unmistakable.

Her beast had come back to her.

But why?
How
? Beauty stared, mouth agape, as the
beast turned and leapt down to the side of the castle, with the agility of a
cat. As he hit the ground and began to run the other way, she shouted after
him.

“WAIT!”

He slid to a stop.

Beauty ran to him, where he stood, hunched over on all
fours, body heaving with each breath. He was exactly as she remembered him in
this form – massive, sinewy, and covered in thick brown fur.

“What’s happened to you?” she whispered, as she drew close.

The beast’s voice was very quiet.

“She found me,” he said. “After all these years, she found
me.”

Beauty swallowed a lump in her throat. “The witch?”

The beast nodded his huge, shaggy head.

“She was enraged,” he said. “The terms of the curse were
meant only to torment me. She never thought I would be able to break it. There
will be no turning back. Not this time.”

Beauty drew closer, hesitantly laying her hand on his
shoulder. His skin shuddered under her touch.

“There must be a way,” she said. “There is always a way.”

Finally, the beast turned and looked at her. There was an
unfathomable sadness in his eyes, a despair that she couldn’t even begin to
understand.

“This isn’t a fairy story,” he said. “There is no happy
ending for me.”

“No!” said Beauty forcefully. The beast flinched. “I won’t have
it. We can’t give up. I shall find the witch, and I shall strike a bargain with
her. Everyone has a price, and I’m certain she is no different.”

“You know nothing of the witch,” said the beast, darkly.
“The only currency she understands is cruelty. She loves nothing more than
inflicting pain.”

“We shall see about that,” said Beauty. She smiled at him,
her chin held high. “I shall find her, and I
shall
prevail upon her to
break the curse. I begin my journey at dawn. You may come with me if you wish.”

The beast let out a snort of laughter.

“What?” said Beauty.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he growled, softly. “I forbid
it.”

A fire flashed in Beauty’s eyes. “And how will you prevent
it, sir? Will you hold me captive again, as you once did?”

The beast bowed his head, defeated.

“Please,” he said. “For your sake. For the sake of our
child.”

“I am doing this for your sake,” she said. “I am doing this
for the sake of our child. Can you not see that?”

The beast was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he spoke
again.

“You have made enough sacrifices for me,” he said.

Beauty smiled.

“I will decide when it is enough.”

-

They left at dawn, just as Beauty had promised. She cantered
along gently on André’s back, the beast loping beside them, glowering in
disapproval but afraid to let her go alone.

The witch’s lair was said to be far west of where they were,
so they cut their way through the forest, their backs to the rising sun, until
it sank below their vision and grew dark. The trees were still thick, but
growing sparser.

“Is it safe to stop here?” Beauty asked, pulling dried meat
and water skins out of the bags on André’s sides.

“Perfectly,” said the beast. “I am the only monster in these
woods.”

It was beginning to grow cold, and Beauty curled up against
the beast, burying her hands in his fur, listening to his heartbeat. With him
back in this form, it was exceedingly difficult not to think of their first
night together; of the way his tongue felt, how he’d brought her to a height of
pleasure beyond anything she’d ever imagined. And later, how he let her go. And
still later, how she came back to him of her own accord and let him fill her
with his seed, his stiff rod throbbing and pulsing inside of her.

Beauty licked her lips. Now was no time to be thinking about
such things; if he wouldn’t touch her as a human while she carried his child,
he certainly wouldn’t touch her like this. No matter how badly she wanted it.

When the sun rose again, they set on to the next leg of
their journey, which would take them across the plains and into a deeper,
thicker woods just before the mountain pass. The beast seemed to know it, but
Beauty had never travelled so far before. For the first time since resolving to
do this, she felt afraid.

But she didn’t let it show, urging André on faster, into the
deep, dark forest that was somehow still forbidding, even in the daylight.

It was eerily quiet inside, under the canopy of the trees.
The beast was on the alert, his head low to the ground, swiveling back and
forth, watching and listening and smelling. Did he know something about this
forest that Beauty had yet to discover, or was it merely the atmosphere?

Suddenly, the beast stopped dead in his tracks.  André did
as well. Somewhere, in the distance, a mourning dove cried.

The beast let out a long, low growl.

“What is it?” Beauty whispered.

A twig cracked.

Something was coming.

At first she could hardly make out the shape of it, coming
towards them, blending in so well with the branches and the trees, mottled gray
and brown. But as it drew close, she saw it for what it was.

Like the beast, there was something slightly human about it
– the way it carried itself, or the fierce intelligence in its eyes. But
more than anything else, it was a wolf. A giant, growling wolf, drawing ever
closer.

“Wulfric,” the beast snarled, softly.

“Prince Harland,” said the wolf, his eyes roving over the
pair of them. “What have we here, hmm? Who is this little bit? I had judged the
time to break your curse would have passed by now.”

“She broke it,” said the beast, jerking his head towards
Beauty, but never taking his eyes off the wolf. “But the witch found me again.”

“Twice cursed, eh?” Wulfric chuckled throatily. “You poor
unfortunate soul.”

“I would greatly appreciate it,” said the beast, in a
measured voice, “if you would allow us to pass through the forest so that we
may reach the witch’s lair and strike a bargain with her to make me human
again.”

“Oh,” said the wolf. “Would you, now?”

The beast growled.

“Come now.” The wolf took a step closer. The fur on the
beast’s spine bristled. “You are well aware of my hold over these woods and
their many inhabitants. If you hurt me, you will never escape with your life.”

“I am well aware,” said the beast. “Please.” He glanced at
Beauty, then back to the wolf. “She is with child.”

“So I deduce.” The wolf yawned. “What are you prepared to
offer me, Harland?”

The beast was silent.

“What?” Wulfric laughed. “You’ve come all this way, to pass
through my forest, without so much as a small creature for me to eat? No gold?
Perhaps you intended to bring me a virgin, but you seem to have spoilt her
along the way.” He turned his yellow eyes on Beauty, looking her up and down,
hungrily.

Beauty felt a stirring deep inside. It had been too long
since anyone had looked at her that way, and since the beast had given her a
taste, it would be foolish to pretend he hadn’t left her hungry for more.
Perhaps, this way, both she and the wolf could have what they wanted.

Beauty dismounted, throwing off her cloak to reveal the
dress underneath. Now that her stomach was slightly distended it clung to her
more closely than it ever had, and she could tell that Wulfric liked the look
of it as she drew close to him.

“Perhaps I can offer you something,” she said softly.

“What are you doing?” the beast growled from behind her.

“I am securing our safe passage,” said Beauty, quietly.
“Which, apparently, you did not have the foresight to do.”

She walked up to the wolf, standing straight-backed in front
of him. He wasn’t on all fours, exactly, but he was hunched over as if his body
couldn’t quite make up his mind. If he drew himself up to full height, he would
have been twice Beauty’s height. But as it was, he was close enough to see her
clearly, to lean forward and sniff her.

“She’s ripe, this one,” he said, softly. “Harland, have you
not been tending to your bride?”

“He is respectful,” said Beauty. “Not like you, I should
imagine.”

The wolf laughed. “No, my little beauty. I have been accused
of many a crime, but respectfulness certainly is not one of them.” He looked
over her shoulder, at the beast. “What of it, Harland? Shall I take her up on
her offer? She seems awfully…anxious.”

“Come,” the beast snarled at Beauty. “We’re going home.”

“Oh, no, no,
no
,” the wolf laid one huge paw on
Beauty’s shoulder, making her shiver. “I simply cannot have that. There will be
no passing through these woods for you, in any direction, until this little
firebrand makes good on her offer.”

The beast’s every breath came out in a growl.

“For my part,” said the wolf, as Beauty reached up and began
unbuttoning her dress with shaky hands, “I never understood your obsession with
the human form. It’s pretty enough, certainly – I’ll grant you that
– but to
live
in? Ugh. I don’t miss it. Not one bit.” His eyes
raked Beauty’s naked form as she slipped the dress off her shoulders and let it
fall.

“So lovely,” he said, quietly. “What was it, my dear, that
compelled you to give over your virtue to a monster?”

“He’s not a monster,” said Beauty. “He’s a man.”

“I, on the other hand…” Wulfric stood up straighter, and
Beauty’s eyes drifted down to his groin. He was hard and growing harder, a
long, stiff shaft rising up to greet her. “…as you are about to learn, my dear,
I am all beast.”

And with that, he walked around behind her, grabbed a
handful of her hair, and yanked her head back so that her throat was exposed.
She whimpered, but something tingled between her legs.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “So eager. Would you ever
guess that I used to be a human, just like you? There was a time when I thought
this body was a curse, when I feared the full moon. Now I don’t see any purpose
in ever changing back. But your prince, he is not like me. He would rather
watch you debase yourself for me than face life as a beast.”