Page 6 of Bred By the Wolfman

Even though I’ll be having a baby, that won’t be my life. I’ll go back to being single afterwards, which is kind of... freeing. Children are a lot of work, and I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.

But the wolfman sure thinks he’s ready. And he must really, really want that for his life if he’s going through this much effort to get it.

After shopping, I head home to make dinner, and pick something out of the recipe book. I don’t cook a lot, usually easy stuff and microwave food, so this attempt at a healthy meal comes out... passable. That’s being generous, actually, but I have confidence that I’ll get better the more I do it.

I really want to have a glass of wine with my food, but that’s literally and figuratively off the table now. I’ll be allowed to imbibe during my three-month recovery period, but that’s all.

Better find a new vice that isn’t caffeine, either.

Late that night, I head back to the store again to pick up a box of Bubbles carbonated, flavored water, and wonder if I’m really doing the right thing.

Too late to back out now.

The following week, I go in for my first exam since the initial visit. I’ve managed to keep myself busy with knitting, watching television, going on long walks around my neighborhood and putting a tentative foot into gardening. I got a couple of planters for my balcony, and I’m giving it a try with some easy flowers and a basil plant. That’s about as much responsibility as I can handle.

It’s strange returning to the DreamTogether building, remembering what happened here last Thursday. I’ve been impossibly horny since then. Every night, sometimes multiple times during the day, too, I’ve laid down on my bed and played with my toys until I’m completely wrung out of orgasms.

I keep thinking about the wolfman’s huge, furry hands, the claws in my flesh, the thick cock with that incredible knot at the base of it. I still don’t know how he fit that thing in me, but damn, it was glorious. I don’t think regular dick will be enough from now on.

I can have a personal life, of course. There’s no prohibition against outside relationships or sex, but I have my doubts that too many people would be understanding about my chosen profession. Especially once I start to show, that option probably won’t be on the table for me.

I think of the wolfman fucking me while I’m huge and pregnant, and I wish I didn’t have to walk into a white, sterile doctor’s office right now, probably so they can shove an ultrasound wand inside me.

Not hot.

We give perfunctory hellos, me and the middle-aged doctor with her hair up in a tight bun. She looks through my paperwork, then invites me to lie down and take off my clothes while she goes to get her supplies. I slide on the hospital gown, and wait until she comes back wearing a latex glove.

I hate this part. She looks around inside me with the wand, then makes some notes on a chart. Then she takes some blood to analyze and help me get better nutrition, and recommends some foods to me to get more potassium before sending me on my way.

It’s too soon to know if it worked, but she reminds me to come in again next week for another check. I’ll do it every week for the next who-knows-how-many months, until I’m finished and can go into recovery.

After my appointment, it’s back to knitting, watching TV, walking, shopping, making meals... I manage to occupy quite a lot of my time, but there are still long periods where I don’t quite know what to do with myself.

Maybe I should try to get out there and date before the whole pregnancy thing really sets in.

I call Liesel so we can catch up, and she meets me at a steakhouse. “I’m low on iron,” I explain as we take a seat.

“Whatever. I know it’s about the fried onion thing.” She picks up her menu. “So, pregnant yet?”

She does love to get right to the point.

“I don’t know,” I say. “We still have one more appointment, and then they’ll keep running tests until it comes up positive.”

She nods as she browses the sides. “So what monster’s baby are you going to carry around?”

I clear my throat. “A wolfman.”

“Hmm.” Liesel has one of those resting nothing-faces, where you can almost never figure out what she’s thinking. I’ve learned her tells, though, over time, and I think she’s a combination of curious and repulsed. “And you had sex with him?”

“Yeah, duh. That’s the point.”

She taps her cheek. “How was it?”

I don’t have to think before I answer. “Really great,” I say, trying not to sound too gushing, when actually it was mind-blowing.

Liesel quirks a brow. “I thought it was supposed to be a little more mechanical?”

“Not this guy,” I say, tossing down my menu. “He was horny, and had amazing dirty talk. Except for the part where he gave me a fake name and it was Bill.”

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