These stories were gifts to my fans for their birthdays, if you would like to provide a prompt, you can email me or comment on this Facebook Post.
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December 21st, for DeeGee.
Prompt 2: Two alphas (jocks, bullies, stuck in post-season training) into improvised bondage, hand-over-mouth while fucking, really turned on by noncon scenes, love ganging up together
Warnings: non-con, consent is negotiated & then ignored, bondage, gag, lingerie.
It was a little fucked up, but everyone did it when there were no betas or omegas around. Everyone always went on about omegas and heats, but alphas had needs too. Chalent could live with being almost perpetually horny, but he also wouldn’t have agreed to this if he hadn’t been.
Yan smirked, eyes racking up and down Chalent’s body with undisguised glee, and he shivered. Chalent couldn’t be sure if it was the other alpha’s predatory looks or the fact that he was wearing little enough to reveal his cock was hard inside the dark lacy panties. At least Yan had insisted Chalent not jerk it for two days beforehand—he hadn’t quite managed, but so what? A day was more than enough to have him unreasonably aroused at playing out his teammate’s fantasy.
The other alpha stepped closer, reaching out with his right hand and running the tips of his fingers over Chalent’s pecs under the lacy nightshirt—it was loose, maybe loose enough Yan was imagining there was a lot more flesh and a lot less muscle under it.
He didn’t get how this could be hot. He looked nothing like a woman— Yan cupped his pec and used his thumb to rub little circles around his nipple and Chalent swayed in place at the surge of electricity. Yan laughed at that, low and satisfied. Chalent closed his eyes and pretended he hadn’t heard.
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Payment in Full
January 7th, for Carmel Smith
In truth, Damien would admit he deserved to be cursed.
It was not the first time he had done it and he’d known the risks all along—he just couldn’t resist a good con and people were so truly naive…
As he was led along by the bridle the witch had put on him, he tried to figure out what the purpose of the transformation could be—horses were expensive animals but surely the amount of magic it took to change him into one could have been used to better profit?
And he really didn’t see why he’d been turned into a mare—he was slim, which was how he’d passed himself off as a damsel in distress to the witch’s son that had got him into this mess, but he was most definitely male.
Warnings/Enticements for: non-con, forced breeding, human-turned-into-an-animal mated to an actual animal. Grab it here!
February 21st, for Gema Cela Rodriguez.
His father had been livid when he’d been informed Gerald had presented omega. Not that Gerry could have reasonably expected anything else from the man who’d spent every day since his eighteenth birthday deriding him for not being an alpha, the heir a man of the stature of the Earl deserved.
But he hadn’t expected fate to twist the knife even further, to make him... He clenched his fists, glancing at the white tunic the tailor was fitting for him.
Because omega men where expected to marry other men and... Gerry swallowed, flinching when his squirming resulted in an accidental pricking. "Apologies, milord," the man working at his feet said without looking up.
The Earl had probably demanded the clothes ready within the week, just because he could count on his patronage being valuable enough to be put at the top of the pile of any workman.
“Lord Gerald,” a timid voice said from the door, which he hadn’t even noticed opening.
It was a maid dressed in the finery of Tavethell House. “What it is?”
“Your father requests your presence in his study.” She didn’t say when because anyone who knew the Earl understood he expected his orders to be obeyed at once.
He nodded. “Thank you, please inform him that I will be with him as soon as I dress.”
It was a reasonable stipulation but Gerry knew he couldn’t count on it not angering his father, not anymore. Once upon a time, when he’d been a strong boy winning horse races and shooting birds other boys couldn’t see... Back then, when his mother had still lived and his siblings hadn’t yet fallen prey to disease, his father had doted on him, proud as could be of his firstborn son.
Those days were long gone. That boy was gone as well. As was his future, because an omega couldn’t be head of the family, not even if he was the current earl’s only child.
Warnings/enticements: This is non-shifter A/B/O sort of historical and contains intergenerational incest, noncon, forced impregnation, some hitting.
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March 11th, 19th & 25th, 2019, for Heidi, Cheryl & Ashley
Shane had noticed the unusual hunger--he'd practically finished half a deer by himself in the last moon run before Halloween, and he’d been twitchier than normal lately. An itch not even transforming could soothe for long.
Just like Timothy before he'd presented.
He'd been a little annoyed when his twin had beat him to it, but the genes were finally coming through--it already felt like the moon was tugging at him harder than usual. Of course alphas felt the moon more strongly, especially alphas about to present for the first time.
He grinned around his burger, earning himself an eye roll from Timothy.
Shane flipped him off, his jerk of a brother would see what was what when Shane’s alpha hormones kicked in.
He couldn't wait to be strong enough again to wrestle his brother into the ground. Timothy was a solid guy, as the large group sitting with them at the pub more than proved, but in private, he was a right peacock about the fact.
Shane was just doing his brotherly duty in taking him down a peg when he needed it.
“Next round’s on me,” Tim called out to the group. Shane sighed but kept his mouth shut—if Timothy wanted to blow his money playing big man, he was free to do it. As long as he kept paying Shane back when he borrowed from him to make ends meet, it wasn’t any of Shane’s business.
Twincest, accidental sex & pregnancy, multiples. 34,000 words.
The Alpha Solution
April, 2019, for Tida & Donna - For Tida's birthday on March 29th & Donna's birthday on April 20th.
Junen snarled at the alpha standing outside his cell. The guy was clearly a psychopath. Who the fuck had an actual cell in their house?
“I see you are as unreasonable as your father,” the stranger told him evenly. He had dark eyes, long thick eyelashes that made his eyes look huge on his pale face, and although Junen could smell he was an alpha, he could barely see proof of the musculature lycanthropes developed naturally. Especially alphas.
“Let me out and I won’t rip your throat out,” Junen replied with a smile that showed all his teeth, being on a strange alpha’s territory was bad enough, being in a fucking cage had his wolf so furious he was having trouble staving off the transformation. “I think that’s very reasonable.”
The other alpha laughed, seemingly delighted at the threat. Great, he was crazy. “I think I’ll keep you a little longer. Unless you’re feeling up to cooperating?”
Junen didn’t answer, letting the silence build. It was one of his dad’s tricks and it worked like a charm if you had the patience to wait it out. Junen had learned to outwait his agemates, then the older kids--adults tended to pretend they weren’t affected and walked away like he was no threat but not before Junen smelled they were angry.
His captor didn’t seem discomfited at all, though, there was a half-smile on his lips, as if they were having a pleasant conversation over tea instead of talking from opposite sides of a cell.
“Very well,” he said cheerfully after only a few moments. “I’m afraid I have other work to do.”
And with that, he turned and started for the door. Junen’s heart skipped. He’d been in there for days already and now... But he wouldn’t give in, not when he knew he’d have to say no anyway.
He bit his tongue on the questions.
The arsehole wanted something from him, he would have to ask for it.
Noncon, forced body modification, feminization, straight alpha forced to submit to multiple alphas, impregnation, slavery, brainwashing, fisting, abuse, werewolf racism. NOT a romance.
Runt of the Litter
May 29th, for Claudia.
“Runt of the litter” was actually one of the nicest things he got called by his siblings. Not in front of his parents because his dad had made it clear very early it was not acceptable to make fun of Lyall for being small.
They were grown now and it didn’t even happen that often— and when it did, it was more leftover habit than actual aggression—but it was like a sore place inside him, the knowledge that’s what they thought of him.
His older siblings had always been kinder to him than the rest, but in a way that overcompensation had set him apart for his weakness just as much.
And for all his dad defended him, he had chosen to start trying the new experimental birth control methods to right after the five of them had been born.
Not that Lyall blamed him, he’d been teased enough about how he’d obviously be an omega that he was better informed than most. Not by his siblings, who were all very aware omeganess didn’t equal weakness thanks to their dad, but by other pack kids who’d bought on the stupid human ideas that a man being anything like a woman was embarrassing.
Lyall wouldn’t have minded being prettier, really, but he was just small. At the 5’7 he barely made it to average for human standards, among wolves who regularly reached 6 feet as teenagers, he often felt like a child.
He respected his dad and he wouldn’t have minded being an omega so much—it wasn’t like anyone would look at him twice without pheromones intervening.
It should have come as no surprise when he presented alpha instead—after all, Nature had made it clear it liked screwing him over from the moment he'd been born.
72,000 words, age gap, long-distance relationship, older omega, younger alpha.