Chapter 3

three

DEE

My vagina is pretty sore after my experience with the wolfman. At the same time, I miss it. I wish he could have done it again right after, and then again after that, and then...

I can’t get caught up thinking like that. This is a transaction, like I told him. He comes inside me as many times as he can until my test result comes up positive, and then we never see each other again. When the baby is born—his cub , as he insists—I’ll hand it off to DreamTogether and they’ll be reunited with their father.

Then I’ll take some time off, and meet the next one.

I doubt, though, that any of my other clients will treat me with such unrestrained desire as the wolfman did. He wanted me, that much was obvious. He wouldn’t have lapped at my clit so hungrily if he didn’t want to, if all he was after was to get me ready for him.

No, he’d wanted to make me feel good. And the way he fucked me, seeking out all my pleasure spots like a missile, I clench a little between my legs as I drive home.

That night, even though I’m tender, I fuck myself with my dildo and attack my clit with my wand, trying to relive it. Damn. And this is just my first session with my first client. Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all, if I have to remain detached and professional in the face of... that.

Part of me hopes it didn’t work this time. Our follow-up appointment is required, but after that, it’s all dependent on the tests. Who knows how many more times I’ll see him.

Will he eat me out like I’m a cake covered in icing again?

It’s going to be a long month, I can already tell.

Luckily for me, I’m paid by DreamTogether for every moment after my first session. It felt absolutely fucking incredible to turn in my hat and uniforms to my creepy manager at McFlips, then say goodbye to the few coworkers I liked on the line.

I wonder how much of a bill the wolfman has rung up. Each breeding session costs him, and he’s already paid the salary I’ll make while I do nothing but sit around and incubate for however many months. It’s not like I can ask him what he does for a living. The company was very straightforward in the handbook and paperwork about sharing any identifying details. We’re under surveillance, too, for my safety—and surely they would hear it. Then I’d lose this job for good.

First thing the next morning, I make a list of everything I want to do now that I have the time. High up on the list is bingeing the next season of my favorite show, The Golden Court . I haven’t started it yet because I know it’ll suck me in and I won’t be able to stop until it’s over.

Flipping on the TV, I look up some easy knitting patterns, then try my hand at it while the show plays. The sun rises higher in the sky, and I have some cereal, then remember the vitamin pills I’m supposed to be taking. The company was also pretty prescriptive about my diet, and I’m positive that having sugary cornmeal at 11 a.m. isn’t what they had in mind.

I make a grocery list of healthy foods, using some recipes out of a cookbook that’s collected a fine layer of dust, and head to the store. It’s the middle of the day, so the aisles are clogged with old people and parents wrangling little kids while they try to shop.

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.”

She makes a face, and I nod in agreement.

“Still, though, he knew just what to do,” I add. “I came twice.”

Liesel’s watching me steadily. “Interesting. It’s unusual for a man of any species to make a woman orgasm during their first time having intercourse.”

“O-okay, Dr. Liesel,” I say as the waiter approaches. “I guess he’s just good at what he does.” Though I do wonder just how he got so good at it. How many other women has he pleased that way? Were any of them human, too?

I’m surprised by a surge of jealousy.

I place an order for a rather large steak, and Liesel gets a salad. I don’t know how she survives on just salads, but I decide to get one, too, and keep the healthy streak going.

“You know,” Liesel says after the waiter leaves with our order, “I’ve kept it to myself until now, but I wonder if this is the right move for you, Dee.”

I frown at her. “Kinda late to say something.” I could already be on my way to getting pregnant. I just imagine the wolfman’s little army swarming up my fallopian tube toward the egg waiting for them there.

“I thought it would be all right,” Liesel says cautiously, “but listening to you talk, I wonder if it’s so healthy for you. You’re emotional, and you love having connections with others.”

That’s odd, coming from her, because we have almost no friends in common. Liesel and I met at a music festival many years ago, and though other people in my life have cycled in and out, she’s kept the same place, calling me every two weeks to get a drink. That’s how I know she likes me, even if she never shows it. Over the years, I think we’ve built a strong bond, one where we understand each other and support each other.

“What, you think I’m going to get attached?” I ask, scoffing.

She just tilts her head. “Yes.”

“You really have no faith in me.” I guess I need to show her, then, that I can do this. Just because the wolfman took me for a ride, that doesn’t mean I’m in it to win it. I’m only there to do a job.

If he wants to have fun doing it, that’s fine by me.

Eventually the steak shows up, and I’m surprised by how hungry I am. I eat the entire thing, and wonder if soon I’ll be eating for two.

Does that mean two steaks?