I SOMEHOW ENDED UP WITH A HAREM FULL OF BEAST MEN

A week had passed, and I finally felt human again, or as human as one could feel while still sporting bruises that ranged from deep purple to sickly yellow-green. The marks were stubborn, taking their time fading from my skin, constant reminders of Veylan’s desperation every time I caught my reflection. But I could walk without wincing now, could sit without shifting constantly for comfort, could breathe without feeling the phantom ache of his grip on my ribs.

I kissed my cubs, four sleepy bundles of fur who chirped and nuzzled against my cheek, then shook them awake one by one when they tried to burrow deeper into their furs, reluctant to greet the day.

The first battle was teeth.

I fetched the supplies from the wooden chest: small branches whittled into rough brushes, their ends frayed into bristles through hours of chewing, and the small clay pot of salt mixed with crushed mint leaves that served as our cleaning paste.

Jasper was easiest, my lazy sleeping prince. He simply went limp when I approached, dropping dead weight onto my lap, playing possum with theatrical snores as I pried his mouth open. I scrubbed his tiny fangs while he remained ”unconscious,” his tongue lolling out, his body floppy as a fish. He even let me rinse without protest, too committed to his performance to break character.

Atlas was next, and he whined, big eyes pleading, but submitted with only minor protests, his tail thumping the floor in resignation.

Then came Chase and Ryder, the twins of chaos.

Chase went rigid, becoming a furry plank when I tried to hold him, his legs shooting straight out, his jaws clamped tighter than a bank vault. I had to wrestle him onto his back, using my knees to pin his shoulders while he kicked and snarled, his back paws raking the air dangerously close to my face.

Ryder was worse. He ran, actually ran, his small body darting under the bed while I crawled after him on hands and knees, branch in hand, muttering threats and promises. When I finally dragged him out by his hind legs, he fought like a demon possessed, scratching my arms, twisting his head away, growling with a ferocity that would have been impressive if he weren’t so small. He bit the brush, he bit my finger, he flung salt paste across the room with violent head shakes.

By the time I finished all four cubs, my hair was tangled, my arms were scratched in zigzag patterns, and I had salt paste smeared across my cheek like war paint.

Then came my turn.

I chewed the end of my own branch brush until the fibers softened, then dipped it into the salt mixture. The first scrub always made me wince, the salt stinging against my gums, the rough bristles scraping my enamel. I worked methodically, top teeth then bottom, front then back, spitting the foam into a basin, rinsing with water from the clay jug.

The cubs watched me, their heads tilted, their expressions suggesting they found my suffering deeply satisfying revenge for their own ordeal.

”Happy?” I asked them, wiping my mouth with a cloth.

Jasper yawned, showing his clean fangs, and I swore he smiled.

Only then, with all of us scrubbed and rinsed and relatively presentable, did I set out to find my friends, desperate for normalcy, for gossip, for the kind of female companionship that didn’t involve growling males and protective posturing.

I found Rhonda and Layla by the river, washing clothes and trading whispers that exploded into giggles as I approached.

”Krys!” Rhonda waved me over; her face flushed with happiness. ”Come, sit. Tell us everything. How is the silver wolf?”

I settled onto a smooth stone, wincing only slightly as my bruised hip made contact. ”He’s... recovering. Guilt-ridden. Apologizing every five minutes.” I paused, considering how much to share. ”It hurt really bad, honestly. I’m still healing. He was big. And rough. Very rough.”

They stared at me like I had grown a second head.

”But... isn’t that what mating is supposed to be like?” Rhonda asked, her brow furrowed in genuine confusion. She set down her washing, turning to face me fully. ”We feel the urge, and then they go behind us and start thrusting. That’s... that’s normal, isn’t it? The roughness? The quickness?”

”Are we doing something wrong?” Layla chimed in, her horse mate’s tunic clutched in her hands, forgotten. ”Because it felt good to me. Especially when he’s rough. I like a little rough.” She blushed, but her chin lifted defiantly. ”The pain is part of it, isn’t it?”

I looked at them, my friends, these strong, capable women who had never known anything but the quick, functional mating of beasts, and I realized with sudden clarity that I had been holding back. That I could help them. That I could change their lives.

”No,” I said slowly, a mischievous smile spreading across my face. ”No, it could be so much better. So, so much better.”

They learned in, eyes wide, curiosity and skepticism warring in their expressions.

”Do you really want to know?” I asked, feeling suddenly like the bad influence my mother had warned me about. ”Because once I tell you, you can’t unknow it. You’ll be ruined for quick, rough mating forever.”

They exchanged glances, then nodded in unison, scooting closer on the riverbank like children sharing secrets.

I exhaled, gathered my courage, and began. ”First,” I said, ”there’s something called foreplay. It means before they even think about putting anything inside you, they touch you. Everywhere. Slowly. With their hands, their mouths...”

”Their mouths?” Layla interrupted, her eyes widening. ”Where?”

I grinned. ”Everywhere. But especially... down there.” I gestured vaguely toward my lap. ”If they lick you, right on that sensitive spot, with their tongue flat and soft, or pointed and quick... it feels like stars are bursting behind your eyes. Like your whole body is made of lightning. You build up and up and up until you think you’ll die, and then you release, and it’s better than anything.”

Rhonda’s mouth had fallen open. Her face was the color of ripe apples. ”They... they put their mouths... there?”

”Yes,” I confirmed. ”And you can do the same for them. Take them into your mouth, suck gently, use your tongue...” I tried to find a way to explain, ”Soft. Wet. No teeth, teeth are very bad, very painful. Just lips and tongue and enthusiasm.”

Layla made a sound like ”woah,” long and drawn out, her eyes distant with imagination.

”But what if we accidentally nick them with our teeth?” Rhonda asked, genuinely worried. ”What if I hurt him?”

”If you do this,” I explained, moving my mouth slowly, ”and not this,” I snapped my teeth together with a sharp click, ”then they will feel very, very good. Better than the actual mating, sometimes. And they’ll be so grateful, so eager to please you in return, that you’ll have the best sex of your life.”

”Oh my god,” Layla breathed, fanning herself with her hand. ”Are you an expert on this, Krys? I’ve never heard of such techniques. Do Ape people do this kind of thing?” Oh yea, I forgot, they think I’m part of the ape clan.

I laughed, feeling light and free and wonderfully wicked. ”Let’s just say apes have had thousands of years to figure out what feels good. And I’m sharing the knowledge. Consider it... cultural exchange.”

”I’m going to try it,” Rhonda announced, her blush deepening but her eyes determined. ”Tonight. I’m going to ask him to... to lick me. And then I’m going to...” She mimicked my mouth motion, clumsy but enthusiastic.

”Use your hand too,” I advised. ”Wrap it around the base, move it while your mouth works the top. They love that.”

”And swallow,” I added casually, watching their reactions. ”Or let them finish on your chest. They find that very... exciting.”

Layla fanned herself harder, her face flushed nearly purple. ”This is too much. This is... this is life-changing information. You’re a goddess, Krys. A wicked, wonderful goddess.”

We sat there for hours, the washing forgotten, the cubs playing in the shallow water nearby. I taught them everything I knew, positions that allowed deeper connection, angles that hit sensitive spots inside, the importance of communication, of telling your mate what feels good and what doesn’t. I explained that pain wasn’t necessary, that roughness could be negotiated, that pleasure should be mutual and reciprocal.

Rhonda practiced her mouth technique on a smooth river stone, making us both dissolve into laughter. Layla asked detailed questions about anatomy that I answered with diagrams drawn in the dirt.

It was a great day, full of sunshine and friendship and the joy of shared secrets.

As the afternoon wore on, Layla’s cubs, older than mine by a few months, came toddling over, their words clear and distinct. ”Mama,” they called, tugging at her skirt. ”Hungry. Mama, food.”

I watched them with a pang of longing, then looked at my own cubs, still chirping and mewling, communicating in sounds rather than speech. They played together beautifully, tumbling over each other, but I couldn’t help the wish that rose in my chest.

I wished mine would start talking soon.

---

I returned home with my mind full of wicked thoughts, my body humming with a need I hadn’t expected. The conversation with Rhonda and Layla had stirred something in me, awakened desires that had been dormant during my healing. By the time I reached our home, I didn’t want rest. I wanted pleasure.

”I want a bath,” I announced, leading my cubs into our room and letting them play, my eyes finding each of my mates in turn. ”Who wants to join me?”

I hadn’t thought they would all raise their hands. Even Caelion, usually so patient, his hand shot up with desperate eagerness. Soryn look at me with eager gaze as well, Leon and Ravin were already moving toward the bathing room. Only Veylan stood silent, his silver eyes downcast, his hands clasped before him. I could see the fear in him still, the guilt, the terror that he might hurt me again.

But I had wanted only one. One to tease, to play with, to rediscover pleasure with gentle hands.

”I only want one person,” I said, and watched the disappointment flicker across four faces. ”So let’s play a game. It’s called rock, paper, scissors.”

”What’s that?” Leon asked, his brow furrowing.

I showed them, demonstrating the three shapes with my fingers, explaining the rules. Once they grasped it, they faced off, four of them in a circle, Veylan not participating, they started counting down, throwing the signs.

Soryn won, his scissors cutting through Ravin’s paper, then beat Leon when his paper wrapped Leon’s rock, and finally defeated Caelion when the merman chose paper and Soryn’s scissors sliced through. His smile was pure serpentine smugness, his forked tongue flicking with triumph.

Ravin and Leon filled the tub with heated water, steaming and fragrant with herbs, while Soryn watched me with eyes that promised delicious things.

”I’m sorry,” I said as I tested the water with my toe, sinking into the heat with a moan of pleasure. ”I wanted a hot bath for my aching limbs. I know you don’t like heat.”

Soryn slid into the water behind me, his cool scales a shocking contrast to the warmth, his arms wrapping around my waist. ”With you,” he murmured against my ear, his voice like silk over gravel, ”I could be burned alive and I’d die happy.”

Geez. Such a smooth talker.

I settled back against him, humming as the heat seeped into my bruised muscles, as the water cradled me like a womb. Soryn’s hands found my shoulders, kneading with expert precision, working the tension from my neck, my upper back, my sides.

I pressed back against him, feeling the twin hardness of his arousal, his two cocks firm against my lower back. He hissed, sharp and sudden, his hands stilling.

”Don’t, Krys,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. ”You’re healing. You shouldn’t.”

”But I want it,” I whispered, turning my head to catch his lips. ”Can’t you be gentle? I promise it doesn’t hurt anymore. At least not that part.”

His eyes searched mine, green slits of concern. ”You still look like you’re in massive pain.”

”I’m not,” I insisted, reaching back to stroke his cheek. ”Please, Soryn. Please.”

He was silent for a long moment, his body tense against mine. Then, ”I’ll just pleasure you,” he decided, his voice rough with restraint. ”Nothing more. Just my mouth on you. Just letting you feel good.”

He lifted me easily, his serpent strength making my weight nothing, carrying me like I was made of feathers. He positioned me at the tub’s edge, my back braced against the cool wall, my legs spread and draped over his shoulders as he knelt in the water between my thighs.

The moment his tongue touched me, I almost came undone.

He licked and lapped at my pussy with devastating precision, his forked tongue splitting around my clit, the twin points creating sensations that made my eyes roll back. He pushed into my hole, tongue thrusting in and out, wet and wicked, then ran up and down my folds, circling my clit again and again until I was panting, writhing, my fingers tangling in his hair to hold him ”there, right there, don’t stop—”

I came with a cry that echoed off the walls, my body convulsing, my release flooding his mouth, which he drank with greedy swallows.

He stood slowly, water streaming from his scales, his face flushed, his eyes dark with need. He helped me from the tub, carried me to our room, helped dry my body with tender strokes of a soft cloth. But his cocks remained hard, jutting thick and desperate before him, ignored in his determination to care for me.

”Soryn,” I asked, my eyes on his arousal, ”what about you?”

”I’ll be fine,” he lied, turning away to find me clothes.

”The hell you are.”

I grabbed his hip, pulling him back, and dropped to my knees before he could protest. I took his first cock into my mouth, the smooth thickness surprisingly against my tongue, and he hissed, sharp and shocked, his hands flying to my head, not to push away but to hold me there.

I stroked his second cock with my hand, working them in tandem, marveling at the heat of him, the way he trembled, the way his cock twitched in my hand and mouth. This was the first time I had taken Soryn this way, and I was determined to make it unforgettable.

”Damn it, Krys,” he moaned, his head falling back, his hips bucking gently into my mouth. ”Your mouth feels incredible.”

I sucked him harder, moving from one cock to the other, taking the first deep, then switching to lavish attention on the second with my lips and tongue and stroking hand. He was panting, groaning, his serpent nature making sounds that were barely human, barely controlled.

When he came, it was explosive, his first release flooding my mouth, thick and hot, even as his second spilled across my chest, my hand pumping him through the aftershocks. He leaned down, shaking, and kissed me deeply, not caring that he could taste himself on my lips, his tongue claiming mine with desperate gratitude.

”You’re amazing,” he murmured against my mouth.

”And so are you,” I told him.

We walked out to dinner like that, disheveled and flushed, to find Ravin had prepared a feast. The stares we received were knowing, heavy with unspoken questions and desires. Leon looked jealous, his dark eyes tracking my flush face, the flush on my cheeks. Ravin said nothing, but his jaw was tight, his hands clenched around his utensils. And Caelion, sweet Caelion, looked at us with such longing, such aching need, that I almost felt guilty. Almost. Well, I thought, settling into my seat, my body thrumming with satisfied pleasure, you guys should have played better at rock paper scissors.