Alphie Read online

  My heart aches as I realize that I’m probably never going to see my father again. In the past, it was more of a logistical problem. I didn’t have enough money, I didn’t have the right supplies to live here, and I didn’t have a host for my spawning heat.

  I was so worried about all of that, I never got a chance to grieve.

  It feels safe to be sad here with Garrett. I don’t even need to tell him how I’m feeling. Just lying here next to him while he sleeps is enough.

  5

  Garrett

  When I wake I know it’s time. It’s so strange to develop an extra set of instincts. Maybe the gas or the lube are to blame.

  Maybe it’s the way I feel about Alphie. I don’t know.

  It’s hard to move with the eggs inside my body. I feel achy and weak as I push myself up. Alphie, who was sleeping peacefully beside me stirs. When he sees me wobbling, he springs up and offers me his arm. He seems to know that I need to crouch. He holds me steady, even as his arms lengthen and shift to a deep pink.

  At first, I’m not sure what I should do. It seems impossible for the eggs to come out, even though they certainly can’t stay in.

  There’s another cloud of gas, and I relax.

  It’s going to be okay.

  Alphie’s stroking me all over with both his smooth skin and his suction cups. It’s a continuous wave of sensation. He starts with my arms and chest, working his way down to my ass. I’m not sure I want him to touch me there. I’m worried that I won’t be able to get the eggs out. It all feels a little scary right now.

  “Shhhhhhh,” Alphie says, as he coats my hole with a wet warmth, teasing at my rim with his tip. His other tip joins the first, and they slip in and out, spreading the lubricant everywhere. I’m horribly sensitive and raw down there, but Alphie is so gentle, and his ministrations make me feel relaxed and loose.

  The eggs shift. I whimper. I’m not sure I’m ready for this. What if Alphie is wrong and the eggs do irreparable damage?

  “It’s okay. I’m going to help you,” Alphie promises.

  He wouldn’t lie to me. I have to believe that everything is going to be fine.

  If the eggs need to come, I should probably help them.

  I take in a deep breath, and push down, gripping Alphie’s shoulders for balance. The egg lowers ever-so-slightly.

  “Perfect. Just like that. You can do this.”

  He keeps slipping and sliding inside, slathering the lube everywhere. More gas. A drag of suction cups against my cock.

  Heaven help me, but there comes a point where the weight of the eggs inside me feels… good. Enough to give me a semi.

  This is so bizarre.

  I inhale once more and with all my strength I bear down. The eggs lower much faster than I expected, pushing through my rim. It feels bigger now than it did going in, and I can’t help but panic again.

  “It has to come out. It can’t stand there. Please, help me.”

  Aphie looks me in the eye, and says, “One more time. Just push one more time okay?”

  He doesn’t understand. This is too much. Too wide. But I grit my teeth, and with a loan groan I bear down.

  The egg drops, and the pressure around my rim is gone. The relief is overwhelming.

  Alphie brings up the egg to show me. It’s the size of an apple, and almost translucent. I tiny circular creature with four little tentacles floats inside.

  That… is our child? Our? His? Which one is it?

  This is all so confusing, I don’t know how to react.

  Alphie is grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, he’s so beautiful, Garrett. Thank you.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy. Maybe it doesn’t matter if we have everything figured out yet.

  Deep within me, the other egg lowers, and that pressure becomes overwhelming again. Alphie notices my discomfort, and leans in to kiss me. “You can do this, Garrett. Just one more, and then you’re done.”

  I nod. He’s right. Just one more, and then I can rest.

  Still holding Alphie’s shoulders for balance, I shift my feet wide and take in a breath. I squeeze Alphie’s shoulders hard as I push, letting him ground me. As the egg descends, I try to keep calm, even though it’s bigger than the first. Alphie’s dragging his tentacles along my body, massaging me, and whispering little encouragements.

  With one loud grunt, I push down again, and the egg gets stuck on my rim again. I can’t keep calm anymore. This is all more than I can take.

  “Shhhhh, Garrett. Just one more time. That’s all you have to do, okay?”

  I rock back and forth. The pressure is too much.

  There’s more gas.

  “Breath it in, okay? It will help.”

  I nod. Breathing is something I can do.

  But the gas isn’t as effective as it was in the beginning. Panic is starting to thrum through my body. Alphie can sense it. The room is completely full of gas now. I think he’s panicking too.

  “I’m going to help okay. I’m going to latch my suction cups to the bottom of the egg. On the count of three, you’re going to push, and I’m going to pull.”

  That sounds terrifying. “No. I can do it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod. I widen my stance again.

  This is scary, but I’m strong enough for this. I reach within myself for my last bit of strength, and take in as much breath I can take. Then I bear down. The egg spreads me even wider and I want to panic again, but I don’t. I just keep pushing.

  The egg drop. My whole body soars with the intense release.

  It’s finally over.

  Solid tentacles wrap around me, guiding me back to lie on the bed. I allow Alphie to pull a blanket on top of me. He lies next to me, bringing both eggs up with that same grin on his face.

  Two almost identical translucent eggs. Just like Alphie on the first day I met him, they seem so fragile. I feel an overwhelming protectiveness over them.

  “We will keep them safe,” I mutter, as the fog of sleep begins to take over.

  I feel a kiss on my forehead.

  “Later. For now, rest,” Alphie whispers.

  6

  Alphie

  Garrett and I knit in our bedroom now. He’s working on an over-the-shoulder pouch for the eggs, exactly like the one he’s wearing right now. It keeps the eggs nestled next his chest so they can feel his body heat. We knit in our bedroom, so he can be shirtless. He’s always going on and on about skin-to-skin contact.

  I’m not sure if Fibropods need that sort of thing. But I know I like to cuddle with him. So maybe he has a point.

  We’re both nestled under a blanket. I’m still working on the same scarf. I’m a lot slower than Garrett.

  It’s only been a few weeks since my spawning heat, but everything’s changed. We pushed our beds together in the corner of the room, and now I can touch Garrett whenever I want.

  “I was thinking that we’d get them one of those really big hamster habitats. You know, with all of the tubes and wheels and other toys.”

  Garrett is always thinking of ways to take care of our little ones in a world better fit for raising a human child. Unlike the host of my egg, he thinks of our children as his too

  “They’ll mostly just sleep for the first few years.”

  He smiles at me. “I know. Sorry, I’m getting carried away.”

  “No. It’s sweet.” I rest my head on Garrett’s shoulder. “I love how nurturing you are.”

  Here in bed with Alphie, I don’t feel alone. I may never see my father again. I may never see another Fibropod either. But even if there isn’t a place in this world yet for our kids, we can make one.

  Just like the pouch around Garrett’s body.

  In moments like this, I like to picture what our children are going to be like when they get old enough to take their human form. I hope they look like Garrett—that someday I’ll get to watch them run by Garrett’s side, like those giraffes in the Savannah.

  It’s been so lon
g since I had hope.

  For now, I loop yarn. We’ll take this one stitch at a time. One day at a time. As long as I have Garrett by my side, I think everything’s going to be okay.

  He presses his knee against mine and leans in for a kiss.

  I’m not a bother. I’m not a nuisance. Garrett truly loves me.

  And luckily for me and the eggs, he always likes to help.

  Author’s Note

  I hope you enjoyed this little bit of tentacle erotica. I’ll be releasing Alpha on Amazon and KU on April 28th with an added hatching scene.

  Other Egg Preg by Amy Bellows

  Omega from the Ocean

  A Pebble for Lewis

  An Egg for Ansel

  A Home for Ben

  Coming May 5th…

  * * *

  OF PAPER AND WOOD

  * * *

  I only have one chance to be with a man.

  * * *

  To inherit the family fortune, I must marry a woman. But I get to have one night of passion, before a lifetime of obligation.

  * * *

  I just wish I could share it with someone who would treat me more like a lover than a customer.

  * * *

  After all, it’s my first time. My only time.

  * * *

  Of Paper and Wood is the story of two men who find love in the most unexpected of places. In a world of wands and werewolves, where their fate is either rags or riches, they must decide what they’re willing to pay for love.

  * * *

  While Amy Bellows normally writes books set in the omegaverse, Of Paper and Wood is not.

  Park

  I’m standing outside Morticia’s pub, minding my own business, when I hear a clink. Someone flipped a coin at my feet. I glance up to find a woman with kind eyes and an old green gown who’s looking at me with pity.

  “Oh, no. I’m not begging.” I pick up the coin and hand it back to her.

  I had no idea I looked that bad. I mean, sure, I did sneak inside the stables of the town square to sleep last night, and there may be some straw in my hair, but still. Even though it’s my day off, I’m wearing the suspenders of a stable boy. I’m employed.

  Alistair emerges from around the corner in a striking grey suit that matches his eyes and the silver flecks in his light brown hair. He could pass as a proper sorcerer dressed like this. But the same woman who handed me a coin recoils from him in disdain.

  Alistair runs a high-end brothel in the corner of town that caters to queer men. It’s the only one of its kind in the county. And he doesn’t just manage the brothel, he’s a rent boy too. The best in the business, if rumors are to be believed.

  Everyone thought it was strange my mother chose him as my Godfather.

  “Good morning Park,” he says, stepping in for a hug, then pausing. “You smell like you haven’t had a chance to wash after cuddling with Buttercup.”

  Buttercup is the grumpiest of the mares I care for at the town square. Like the rest of the horses in my charge, the poor girl can be rented by anyone in the county for a few copper coins. I’d be grumpy too if I were her. Alistair teases me about how attached I’ve become to her, but every time he visits me at work, he brings an apple for her, so he’s one to talk.

  “I… fell asleep cleaning the stables.”

  He raises his eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he slides a thin, smooth length of wood from his suit pocket. I’ll never get used to him whipping it out so casually. Wands are incredibly rare. There are only a few hundred left in the whole world.

  Alistair mutters something under his breath, and the streak of dirt on my shirt fades. A distinctive lavender scent wafts between us.

  “Did you just clean my clothes?”

  He slips the wand back into his pocket. “Come inside. I’ll buy you some breakfast.”

  Morticia’s is full considering it’s only ten in the morning. There are quite a few people sitting at tables in front of plates of eggs and pancakes, but just as many people are at the bar in front of a pint of beer.

  Times are hard. Sometimes beer helps, if you have the coin for it.

  “Thanks. I’ll pay you back for this later,” I promise.

  He sits at a table near the entrance, even though it’s still covered in dirty dishes. He gestures for me to do the same. “No, you won’t. Boris told me he had to evict you because you’re behind on the rent again. I paid him in full this morning. You should be good until next month.”

  “Alistair! You can’t—”

  A rail-thin woman with a pink cloth draped across the right side of her face rushes up to the table and starts clearing away the dishes. Her eyes stay downcast as she does her work, and then she hurries away without a word.

  Everyone who’s been bitten by a werewolf has to wear a pink cloth like that. Most of them wear it over the bite on their face. Werewolf bites never truly heal. Not the way other wounds do. For most werewolves, biting a human is an accident—something they do under the thrall of the full moon if they don’t have enough money for medicine to keep their inner wolf under control.

  There’s only one werewolf who bites his victims on his face: Victor Reid. He works for Alesto Markin, the loan shark who I gave all of my rent money too.

  It still wasn’t enough. If I can’t get some money fast, I’m going to end up with a mark like that too.

  “This is the third time in the last six months you’ve been behind on your rent. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  I never told Alistair about the necklace I bought two years ago. That’s mostly because it was a scam, and I should have seen it coming from a mile away. But Mom was sick, and the sorceress told me it would make her well.

  She died of the female consumption anyway.

  Unfortunately, Markin isn’t interested in my sob story about Mom. He’s the one who loaned me the money for the necklace, and he’s the one who expects me to pay him. The problem is that I also have to eat and sleep somewhere that doesn’t make me stink. I don’t know if I can ever catch up on my own.

  “I owe Markin money.”

  Alistair sits back in his chair, speechless. Luckily, our server chooses that moment to approach the table. “Good morning, gentleman. What can I get for you?”

  “I’ll have some coffee,” Alistair says. “And bring a full spread for him.”

  My stomach rumbles in appreciation at that idea.

  “Very well. I’ll be back with your food shortly.” He retreats to the back almost as quickly as the busser. Even when people are serving Alistair, they can’t hold back their judgement of him. It’s ridiculous.

  Alistair leans over the table. “You borrowed money from Markin? What on earth were you thinking?”

  “It… was for Mom. There was this necklace that was supposed to heal her…”

  “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “You never could have afforded it.”

  Most people think Alistair’s brothel made him rich, but I know the truth. Alistair pays his boys too much, and a lot of the money gets eaten up in business costs. I’m not the only one sitting at this table who owes Markin money.

  “How much?” Alistair asks.

  I wince. “600 silvers.”

  Alistair’s eyes widen. “You can’t be serious. How did you convince him to loan you that much?”

  “I didn’t. It’s from the interest. I only borrowed 150.”

  “Oh, Park. That’s so much money. Maybe if I sold the brothel... But I can’t abandon my boys.”

  I take in a deep breath. I might have a solution to the problem, I just don’t know if Alistair will go for it. “Do you remember how you were able to buy me that suit last Christmas because of your commission on the virgin boy?”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but virgin boys who want to go into the business are rare. Especially ones who meet my standards.”

  I look down at the empty table. “I’m a virgin.” It’s not something that I’m proud of. I’m twen
ty-two. I should have gotten down to business ages ago. But I had to take care of Mom when she got sick, and when she died… Well, I’ve been too busy trying to figure out how to pay off Markin.

  “No, that isn’t going to happen,” Alistair says.

  “Look, I know I’m not as attractive as your other boys, but maybe you could just sell my virginity. You know… since virgins who want to go into the business are rare?”

  “It isn’t that you aren’t attractive. That’s not the issue. I could certainly find a buyer for your virginity. But that isn’t the way your first time should be, Park. Trust me, I know.”

  “Victor Reid is going to come for me—”

  “I’ll think of something, alright? I’ll take on more personal clients.”

  That’s bullshit. There’s no way Alistair will be able to pay off that debt in time. I know what will happen. Alistair is just going to ask Markin to transfer the debt to him.

  “I want to pay it off on my own. You’re always saying that sex work is just another kind of job. Is that true, or is it not?”

  Alistair gives me a level stare. “Did you see the way that woman looked at me, Park? Sex work may be just another job, but people don’t see it that way. I will take care of Markin.”

  But I’m not done yet. I have one more punch to throw in this fight.

  “Markin offered to sell my contract to Beckett last month. If you won’t sell my virginity, I’ll just tell him to do that. I know Beckett is interested.”

  Beckett runs a gay brothel in the next county over. The name makes Alistair’s jaw clench. I hope he doesn’t call my bluff, because I would never actually agree to have my contract transferred to Beckett. There are some things worse than a werewolf bite on your face.