Women with Animals
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The Librarian and the Beast

4.8
(27)

Sarah pressed her thighs together as she walked, trying to ignore the persistent ache between them. Third time tonight she’d had to stop reading, too distracted by her body’s inappropriate responses to the research material.

The fertility tracking app on her phone hadn’t helped. Peak fertility window, it cheerfully informed her. As if she needed technology to tell her what her body was screaming.

She shelved another book with shaking hands. The medieval accounts were so… detailed. Descriptions of village women found in the morning, exhausted and covered in strange marks, bellies swollen despite no human father. Unable to speak of what happened, but touching their stomachs with secret smiles.

A crash echoed from the main reading room.

Her pencil skirt suddenly felt too tight as she froze, listening. Heavy breathing. The unmistakable sound of claws on hardwood.

“We’re closed,” she called out, hating how her voice wavered.

The footsteps paused. Then resumed with purpose, tracking her voice. Her heartbeat thundered as she backed deeper into the stacks. The narrow aisles that usually felt cozy now seemed like a trap.

Then the scent hit her.

Her knees buckled. Pure musk, wild and male and other. Her body’s response was immediate and humiliating – nipples hardening to painful points, pussy clenching on nothing, wetness flooding her panties.

She gripped the shelf, trying to steady herself. The smell grew stronger with each breath, coating her throat, seeping into her lungs. Making her dizzy. Making her…

The werewolf rounded the corner.

Massive. That was her first coherent thought. Seven feet of muscle and dark fur, moving with predatory grace. Neither fully man nor wolf but something between. Something more.

Its amber eyes found hers and she forgot how to breathe.

The creature’s nostrils flared. Its lips pulled back in what might have been a smile, revealing teeth made for tearing. She watched its chest expand as it scented her, and knew with mortifying certainty what it smelled.

Her mouth opened but no words came. What could she say? Please don’t? Please do?

Her hips shifted forward without her permission.

The werewolf closed the distance slowly, savoring her trembling. Sarah pressed back against the shelves hard enough to hurt, ancient books digging into her spine.

It stopped just out of reach. Waiting. Making her wait.

Her breathing was too loud in the silence. Shallow pants that made her breasts rise and fall, drawing the creature’s gaze. She watched its cock begin to emerge from its sheath – dark red, already glistening.

A whimper escaped her throat.

The werewolf moved. One clawed hand planted beside her head, the other gripping her hip through her skirt. Not painful, but firm. Inescapable.

It leaned in, nose brushing her neck. The first inhale made it rumble deep in its chest. Approval. Satisfaction.

Ownership.

Her hands came up instinctively, whether to push away or pull closer she didn’t know. They landed on its chest, feeling impossible heat through thick fur. The solid muscle made her fingers spread, exploring despite herself.

The werewolf’s tongue touched her throat.

“Ah!” The sound punched out of her. Nothing like a human tongue – longer, rougher, burning hot. It dragged up to her jaw, tasting her pulse.

Her head fell back against the books. When had she bared her throat? When had she started rocking her hips against nothing?

The creature pulled back to study her. She must have looked pathetic – flushed and panting, professional facade crumbling. Its cock was fully extended now, the size making her stomach clench with fear and something else.

One claw hooked into her blouse.

The tearing sound lasted forever.

Cool air on heated skin. Buttons scattered like coins. Her sensible beige bra looked absurd now, trying to contain breasts that heaved with each desperate breath.

Her hands moved to cover herself. The werewolf’s snarl froze her mid-motion.

Pure dominance. An alpha’s command that bypassed higher thought and went straight to her hindbrain. Her arms dropped immediately, hanging useless at her sides.

Good, something whispered in her mind. But it wasn’t her voice.

The creature destroyed her bra with casual efficiency. Her breasts spilled free, nipples already flushed dark and tight. The first brush of fur against sensitive skin made her cry out.

Then its tongue found her breast.

“Oh! Oh god…”

Rough. So rough. Circling her nipple before flicking across the peak. Her back arched without permission, pressing more firmly against that inhuman mouth.

Her hands tangled in thick fur, holding the creature close. When had she decided that? When had she started making those sounds – desperate little mewls that would mortify her later?

The werewolf paid equal attention to both breasts, licking and nipping until she writhed. Her professional skirt felt unbearably restrictive. Her panties were soaked through, probably visibly wet. She could smell herself – arousal mixed with something deeper.

The creature stepped back.

She nearly followed, chasing that touch, before catching herself. The werewolf’s cock stood proud between them now. Impossible. That’s what it was. At least a foot long, thick as her wrist, nothing like human anatomy. The tapered tip leaked steadily. And at the base…

Her pussy clenched hard enough to hurt.

The knot. Still mostly deflated but already intimidating. She’d read about it, understood the theory. But seeing it, knowing it was meant to fit inside her…

The werewolf shredded her skirt before the thought could finish. Her panties disappeared just as quickly. Cool air on wet flesh made her gasp.

She’d never been this aroused. Wetness coated her thighs, her pussy lips swollen and flushed. The werewolf’s pleased rumble at the sight made more flood out.

The floor was cold against her palms. When had she ended up on hands and knees? The position felt natural, necessary. Ancient books scattered beneath her, immediately soaking up the wetness that dripped steadily from her core.

A clawed hand tangled in her hair, adjusting the angle. Down. Lower. Ass higher.

She complied without thought.

The werewolf’s heat covered her back. So much bigger, completely dwarfing her. She felt small. Protected. Owned.

The first touch of cock against pussy made her whole body jolt.

Electricity. That’s what it felt like. The tapered tip sliding through her folds, gathering her copious wetness. Each pass bumped her clit, making her hips jerk. Making her push back, seeking more.

“Please…”

She didn’t know what she was begging for. Didn’t recognize her own voice – high and needy and desperate.

The werewolf positioned itself at her entrance. Just the tip pressing in, spreading her slightly. Her body opened eagerly, trying to draw it deeper.

Then it pushed forward.

The sound that tore from her throat wasn’t human. Couldn’t be. Too raw, too primal, too honest.

Just the tip but already her world was reshaping. Pussy lips stretched white-tight, burning as they struggled to accommodate something never meant for human anatomy. Her fingers clawed at ancient texts, shredding pages she’d spent years preserving.

Another inch. The invasion was deliberate, controlled. Giving her time to adjust. Or giving her time to understand how thoroughly she was being claimed.

Wet sounds filled the air. Obscene. Her body betraying how ready it was, cream coating the massive shaft, easing the way. Not enough though. Never enough for something this size.

“Big… too… can’t…”

Words fractured. Thoughts scattered. Another inch and her vision went white at the edges. The werewolf’s cock didn’t just fill her – it reformed her. Pushed into spaces nothing had ever touched, carved new pathways, claimed virgin territory.

Her back arched sharply. When had she started pushing back? When had her knees spread wider? Her body knew things her mind didn’t, assuming positions passed down through genetic memory.

Four inches. Five. The tip found her cervix and her mouth opened in a silent scream. But the werewolf adjusted, angled differently, and pushed past. Into that secret space that made her see colors that didn’t exist.

Something broke inside her. Not physically – mentally. A wall crumbling, a door opening. Her pussy rippled, clenching and releasing in waves. Welcoming. Submitting.

“Ah! Ah! Ahhhhh!”

Just sounds now. No words left. Six inches. Seven. She looked down between her spread thighs and moaned at the sight. Her pussy grotesquely stretched, clinging to dark red flesh. The visual made her clit throb desperately.

Eight. Nine. Her belly showed it now – a slight bulge moving as the cock pressed deeper. Rearranging her insides to make room. Her body accommodating its new purpose.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

The knot bumped her entrance.

She felt the werewolf’s balls against her clit – heavy, hot, full. Ready to empty inside her. Ready to…

Her pussy clenched hard enough to hurt.

The first withdrawal pulled sounds from her throat she didn’t know she could make. Every ridge dragged against swollen walls, every vein imprinted on her memory. Her pussy tried to hold on, desperate not to be empty.

The thrust back in drove all thought from her mind.

Impact. That’s what it was. Pelvis to pelvis, his balls slapping her clit, the force driving her forward. Only the grip on her hips kept her in place, claws pricking through skin.

Again. Again. Again.

No rhythm a human would use. This was deeper, older. The mating pattern of predators, designed for one purpose. Her body recognized it even if her mind couldn’t process it.

Her breasts swayed wildly. When had her arms given out? She was face-down now, cheek pressed to scattered pages, ass still high. Still presented. Still offered.

The angle was different like this. Deeper. The massive cock hit her anterior fornix with each thrust, that spot that made her babble nonsense. Made her drool onto priceless first editions. Made her push back, meeting each thrust.

Wet sounds echoed off stone walls. Her pussy speaking its own language – squelch, slurp, splash. So wet. When had she gotten this wet? It ran down her thighs, dripped onto ancient texts, mixed with the precum leaking from the massive cock.

The pace increased. Harder. Faster. The werewolf’s breathing changed, became growls. Close. It was close, and her body knew, and something deep in her core clenched with anticipation.

That’s when she felt the swelling.

Pressure. Growing pressure at her entrance. Each thrust became work as the knot expanded, catching on her rim. In. Out. In. Out. Each time wider, each time harder to extract.

Her hands scrabbled at the floor. Not to escape – to brace. To hold herself steady for what was coming. What needed to come.

The knot swelled larger. Baseball-sized now, making obscene sounds as it popped in and out. The burn was exquisite. Pain and pleasure twisted together until she couldn’t separate them. Didn’t want to.

“Ah… ah… ah…”

Just noises. Timed with the thrusts. With the swelling. With the inevitable.

The werewolf snarled and drove forward with bruising force.

The knot slammed past her entrance.

Her scream shattered the library’s ancient silence. Not pain – or not just pain. Recognition. The feeling of a lock clicking into place, a puzzle piece finding its home. The knot swelled rapidly inside her, bigger, bigger, impossibly bigger.

Trapped. No other word for it. That massive ball of flesh lodged behind her pubic bone, the werewolf’s weight pinning her down. She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, couldn’t do anything but take what was coming.

The grinding started. Short, brutal thrusts that moved the knot against her g-spot. Constant pressure, constant stimulation. Her pussy was forced to feel every millimeter, stretched beyond capacity.

Then the first pulse.

Heat. Supernatural heat flooding her core. The werewolf’s cock throbbed inside her, pumping thick ropes of cum directly against her cervix. She could feel each pulse travel up the shaft before erupting inside her.

Her mouth opened but no sound came. What noise could capture this? This claiming, this flooding, this complete possession?

The knot sealed everything inside. Each pulse added to the growing pressure, cum with nowhere to go but deeper. She felt her cervix give way, allowing the potent seed direct access to her womb.

Her hand moved to her belly without conscious thought. Already swelling. Already showing proof of what was happening. The visual broke something in her mind.

Her pussy clenched rhythmically, milking the massive cock. Her body knew its job – take the seed, hold the seed, use the seed. She was just along for the ride now, consciousness fracturing as orgasm after orgasm rolled through her.

Time became fluid. Minutes? Hours? The werewolf’s stamina was inhuman, supernatural. The knotting went on and on, cum pumping endlessly into her fertile body. Her belly grew rounder, tighter, until she looked pregnant already.

She hung limp in its grip. Arms useless, legs trembling, held up only by the knot locked inside her. Sweat soaked her skin. Drool pooled beneath her cheek. Her pussy made weak, rhythmic contractions – not orgasms anymore, just her body’s automatic response. Milking. Taking. Accepting.

The werewolf’s pleased rumbles vibrated through her back. Sometimes it would grind the knot particularly deep, and she’d make sounds. Not words. Nothing human left in her throat.

Her vision went in and out. Black at the edges, then startling clarity. In one clear moment, she looked down at her swollen belly, at the puddle of fluids beneath them, at her pussy stretched obscenely around the knot’s base.

Mine, that voice whispered. But she wasn’t sure if it meant the werewolf owned her, or she owned this moment, this breeding, this transformation.

Both, maybe.

When the knot finally began to soften, she made her first coherent sound in an hour.

“No…”

Just that. Quiet. Desperate.

The emptiness was worse than the stretching.

The werewolf pulled out with a wet sound that would echo in her dreams. The moment the knot cleared her entrance, the dam burst. Cum poured out in a seemingly endless stream, her body unable to hold the supernatural volume.

She collapsed completely. Face down, ass up for a moment more before her legs gave out. Sprawled in a puddle of mixed fluids, pussy gaping open, still twitching.

Cool air touched places deep inside her. Places that would never close properly again. Her fingers moved without her permission, finding her ruined hole. Three fingers slipped in without resistance. Four. The looseness made her moan.

Not with dismay. With satisfaction.

The werewolf nuzzled her neck once. Scent-marking. Claiming. Then padded away, leaving her in the wreckage of her old life.

She lay there feeling cum still leak out in weak spurts. Her whole body thrummed. Claw marks decorated her hips. Her pussy gaped open like a wound. No – like a declaration.

Deep inside, warmth remained. Not all the cum had escaped. Some stayed, pooled in her womb, held by her body’s greedy acceptance.

Her hand pressed against her belly. Still slightly swollen. Still warm.

A smile curved her lips. Not Sarah’s smile – too knowing, too satisfied, too eager.

She managed to roll onto her back, legs splayed wide. One hand found her still-swollen clit while the other pushed into her ruined pussy. The looseness, the wetness, the wrongness of it made her arch.

It only took moments. Her body was primed, trained now. The orgasm rolled through her like an aftershock, pussy clenching on her own fingers, missing the stretch of him.

When it passed, she brought her soaked fingers to her lips. Tasted him. Tasted herself. Tasted what they’d made together.

Her tongue cleaned each finger thoroughly.

The clock showed 2 AM. She’d been knotted for over an hour. Bred for over an hour. Changed in an hour.

She stood on shaking legs, cum still dripping down her thighs. Her clothes were destroyed. Her pussy was destroyed. Her old life was destroyed.

Good.

She found her phone in her scattered belongings. The fertility app still glowed cheerfully. Peak fertility! it reminded her.

Her laugh was dark, satisfied.

She already knew.

But even if this breeding didn’t take, even if her body somehow resisted what every cell screamed had happened…

Twenty-eight days.

Her pussy clenched at the thought, sending another dribble of cum down her leg.

Just twenty-eight days.

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