Page 1 of Bred By the Wolfman

one

DEE

It was one thing to sign up for this. It’s a very different thing to actually be strapped in, face down, my feet in steel stirrups with padded bands anchoring me to the bench. The stirrups hold me so my legs are wide open and I’m fully exposed, my ass up to the sky and the gentle air conditioning brushing over my most sensitive parts.

We’re not supposed to look at them, and they’re not supposed to look at us. Those are the rules, or so I was told. It was also in the documentation DreamTogether gave me, which I was instructed to closely review before my first day.

It seemed like a great idea when I scribbled my name on the dotted line and dated three sheets of carbon-copy paper. Good pay for nine months of work and three months of recovery time, mostly work-from-home? Not to mention the excellent health insurance, which I’ve desperately needed—the best money can buy, no surprise. This is a spendy operation, and the monsters that come in here are either wealthy already, or have scratched and saved their pennies for many years to make their dream a reality.

I wonder which kind of monster I’ll get. As nervous as I feel right now, I’ll take any of them, as long as I don’t have to wear a visor and work late nights over a hot fryer.

I was given a month to prep after signing the contract. During my prep period, DreamTogether gave me a device to help spread me for my first appointment, called a “dilator.” Every night I set it just a little wider, then lay back on my bed, covered the silicone exterior in lube, and worked it into my vagina. Monsters are big, much more than humans, and for my own comfort I needed to be prepared. Responsibly I used it every night, setting it wider and wider, until I could take a girth that surprised even me.

I could probably get into fisting.

Now I’m in my probationary period, and how well I do during this first pregnancy will tell the company whether I can do more in the future. Of course I want to do more, and see if I can save up a nice nest egg for when I reach my five-pregnancy limit.

This job is perfect, really. I can spend my time doing things I enjoy, and not worry about trying to scrounge up a living. There are so many hobbies I’ve wanted to try, but I’m too busy working at McFlips to do anything but veg in front of the TV and go to bed in my off-hours. Now all my needs will be met by the stipend I’m given, and I can finally get my wisdom teeth removed.

But with my clothed chest pressed against the bench and padded, leather ties strapped around my arms, I’m not so sure it was my best move ever. My heart starts beating faster as I try to adjust myself, but the straps keep me held down. I know it’s all for my own safety, but left alone in the silence like this, I’m sweating, and I wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake.

The room is sterile, disturbingly so. The walls are painted white and the floor is white tile. It all smells like it was recently cleaned. The bench is steel, and it makes me wonder how wild some monsters get when they’re mating. My bench is heavily padded to keep me safe from claws and hooves and whatever else, and DreamTogether assured me that there are cameras watching and listening at all times, in case a monster gets out of control. Then, they’ll intervene.

And just to make everything easier, a bottle of lube sits on the little table next to me.

I have an appointment at 1pm on the dot, but I can see the face of my watch from here, and it’s 1:05. I’ve only been in this position for a few minutes and I’m already growing tired of it.

Suddenly, a roar shakes the building. After a few moments there comes another rumbling growl, and I gape at the wall. What on earth was that? One of the other girls had mentioned she was on her third visit with a dragon, who had huge claws that gripped the entire bench. Once, she said, he pulled the whole thing out of the cement when he orgasmed.

I wonder how human-dragon offspring work, and how much of a bitch it would be to carry that particular baby—or whatever dragons call them. I hope she’s getting hazard pay.

When I signed up, I was given a list of possible monsters and checked off the ones I was comfortable with. I don’t remember everything on it now, but I’d okayed most of them except for the dragon, most notably. I’m glad I did.

But I could get anything. A naga, perhaps a minotaur, or even a cyclops. They’re all large creatures, and I’ll most likely make good use of the work I’ve done with the dilator.

I tick off another few minutes, my vagina growing drier by the moment. Damn it, where is he? Why would he be late to such an important appointment?

As if summoned by my thoughts, the door flies open so fast and so hard that it bangs on the wall. I cringe, and a husky voice quickly says, “I’m so sorry.” Much more quietly the door is closed, and reflexively I turn my head to try and see who’s behind me.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to look?” the voice says, deep and male and gravelly.

Blushing, I turn back around. “Right. My bad.”

He’s here. He’s really here, and I’m really doing this. I wrap my hands around the padded grips underneath my chest, because my fingers have started shaking.

It’s like I’d told Liesel. I’m excited about this. It’s a massive career opportunity and could, potentially, feel really good. I’d tried to date a monster, but for the most part, humans and monsters alike tend to marry within their species. It’s easiest that way, when we often live in different cities and different housing developments, and work at different companies. We don’t even frequent the same bars, so my chances of meeting someone eligible is generally slim.

But one thing we humans have that monsters don’t? High fertility rates, and a wide range of compatibilities. Almost any monster can mate with a human and produce offspring, and so companies like DreamTogether were born.

Heh. Born.

Over my shoulder, I hear a deep inhale of breath. “You’re nervous,” the low voice says. “I can smell it on you, my dear.”

Oh, great. A monster that can smell how I feel. The last thing I want is to be giving off the scent of fear while he’s trying to get hard.

“Sorry,” I say. “First time.”

There’s another huff behind me, and then I feel soft fur touching my hips. Fur? Maybe a yeti? The dull tips of claws brush over my skin.

---