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Presentation dates are just as important as birthdates in most cultures. Having your presentation line up with your birthday is supposed to be especially auspicious. And while it isn’t that uncommon—there are only so many days in a year—sharing a presentation date with someone makes them important. You’re linked at the most intense experience of your life.
Because presenting rewrites your brain, senses heighten as your hormone levels shift and rebalance. As your body changes, either a little or a lot. As you get ready for your future mate.
That’s always what Steve’s mother told him, ensuring him it would be worth the discomfort to come out the other side. To know his body as it was meant to be. “Alpha or omega, you’ll be different, but also more you,” she soothed when he finished 9th grade without a heat or a rut. Unlike his father, she never assumed he would be an alpha. “And I was a late bloomer, too.”
“But I could be a beta.”
“You could, and I would love you all the same. But I can smell… something in your scent. Getting warmer, a little tart. I think it will come soon.” She held him to her side for the rest of the evening, watching tv together, just the two of them.
It didn’t stop her from flying out to New York with her husband for the weekend. From leaving Steve alone for two days. She didn’t think soon would come so very soon.
It starts as a cramp low in his belly, sharp and stabbing, but over soon, followed by an itch behind his balls. He scratches without thinking and gasps at the pain. His next touch is careful, feeling through his running shorts, but his taint hurts, swollen and hot. At least he knows what it means; his health classes may have skimmed over it, but the textbook had diagrams. And highly scientific descriptions.
Steve squeezes his scrotum and barely feels his touch The nerves inside it are dying as blood flow is cut off to the extraneous sac now the glands inside have released their store of omeganine to signal his ovaries to start pumping out estrogen. That will be the final push his vaginal canal needs to lengthen, blood rushing there to help him open.
Arousal is necessary to the process, guiding him to touch and probe, removing the dying tissue as it sheds from his sensitive vulva. Another cramp lances through him. Whimpering, Steve curls protectively around his middle as he stumbles to the bathroom; he doesn’t want to get any blood on his sheets or the carpet.
Sinking down to sit on the cool tile, Steve struggles to pull down his shorts, feeling so much wetter between his legs now everything is fully exposed to the air. He throws his bottoms aside, not wanting to see what has already sloughed, but he looks down at his crotch, at the familiar shape of his penis. It has already retracted as if it were cold, leaving him with a respectable four inches, the head dark red where it peeks out from his foreskin, standing up straight and drooling clear slick.
He touches it, just a gentle caress as he cups it with shaky fingers. It feels so much more than it ever has before, his hips thrusting of their own accord to chase the zing of pleasure that lances through his belly. It makes him clench, muscles pulsing inside him over and over, followed by slick.
The back of his scrotum has lifted, revealing puffy labia, the fat lips covering his opening, drooling slick. His vagina continues to pulse, begging to be filled. If his mother were home she would have something for him, a delicate presentation aid, but Steve can’t move, the muscles in his legs twitching along with the clenching and the pleasure in his belly. All he has are his fingers, and he cries out as he carefully presses at his entrance.
The sensitive flesh aches and Steve takes a shaky breath, does his best to only pay attention to the air filling his lungs. He relaxes just enough to breach himself, to get past the tight ring that will stretch with use and hormones and age. It would be unthinkable to try taking a knot after this—his body won’t be developed enough for it until his first true heat, and by then he’ll beg for such fullness.
For now, his body is content with a finger, the rhythmic clenching drawing him in deeper until his palm is pressed tight to his actively shedding scrotum. A small part of him wants to try pulling out and thrusting back in, but the pressure inside as he grips his fingers makes his dick twitch. More slick dribbles from him, his hand and wrist smearing it all over his crotch.
His ass is cold, bare against the tile, and he shivers. That feels oddly pleasant, and he moans as his hips try to thrust, to take his finger deeper even though it is all the way in, and he presses forward. Up.
“Oh, fuck,” he gasps as the pulsing strengthens, slick pouring from him as Steve orgasms, as he clamps down around his finger and grinds against his palm.
The motion tugs at the last bit of attachment, and his scrotum sheds fully, eased by his wetness. It stays in his hand, caught against his mound. Everything is wet and squishy and he wants to keep pushing forward on his pleasure spot. He wants to come again, to relieve some of the ache within, to soothe the cramping of his uterus.
But he has to get rid of the useless lump of flesh.
His body fights him, clenching hard to stop Steve fron removing his finger, but every thing is so wet that it slides out easily as he clutches his shed.
Crawling awkwardly since he can only support himself with one hand, making his way to the toilet so he can flush it away.
He shivers again, but not from cold. He should feel cold, but his whole body is hot, driving Steve to pull off his shirt. The soft cotton drags over his nipples like burlap, and when he looks down at his naked chest he finds them red and swollen. The surrounding flesh is puffy as his breasts bud. They shouldn’t fill out much, but his fat has already begun to redistribute, and he’ll probably end up with firm, little A cups within the week.
Tentatively, he circles a nipple with a slick-soaked finger and he shivers again. His dick bobs and strains like there’s a nerve running straight from his tit to his glans. For all he knows, there could be, and in an act of boldness or madness, Steve pinches his nipple. He huffs a breathy little whine and hisses, “Fuck!” as he does, his pussy pulsing, begging to be filled again and for Steve to press on his pleasure spot.
Sinking back to the floor, he curls up on his side, probing between his fully revealed lips and slipping his finger back in place. He pinches his nipple again and adds a little tug as he rubs his sweet spot.
His second orgasm rolls through him, spreading out from his core with pulse after pulse of slick and pleasure.
Chest heaving with shallow breaths, the incessant need subsides as he comes down from his peak, suddenly more tired than anything.
Steve closes his eyes. He wants to clean up, but first he needs to rest, his finger still nestled inside him. He won’t be able to nap long on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, but he can’t bear to do anything else. When he wakes, he’ll draw a bath and explore his changed body some more.
🔥🔥🔥
At almost the same time, Robin Buckley locks herself in her room after being hit with a sharp pain low in her belly at breakfast. That’s when she notices the tightness in her crotch, the itch, and she trembles.
Her pediatrician had told her she had a high chance of presenting as an alpha, due to the anterior placement of her urethra. “It means it will be easier for a penis to form properly, but it isn’t a guarantee. You could still be an omega or a beta, but it’s best to be prepared,” he’d said, talking her through what kind of changes to look out for when the time comes and sending her home with pamphlets on alpha presentations.
Robin had cried the whole way home as her mother drove, terrified of what would happen, of all the painful changes to her body.
But she had time to make her peace with it, to consider what it actually meant for her. When she saw a pretty girl, she didn’t feel ashamed over the pull low in her belly. Alphas were supposed to like pretty girls. To like pretty omegas.
If she had dreams about kissing pretty blondes with delicate features and soft bodies, that was fine. Alphas liked omegas.
And Robin liked girls. Liked looking at round breasts and slender necks and full lips.
As an alpha, she would be allowed to look. She’d be allowed to touch. To hold and kiss and fuck pretty omega girls.
But knowing all that didn’t stop her panic as her crotch itched like the aftermath of a bad sunburn.
She’d had some swelling over the past week, and irritation when she wiped after peeing, but now it all felt tight like her underpants were squeezing, the elastic pulling. And it was hot. She could feel the heat through her shorts.
Robin tugged them off, along with the offending panties, to find her clitoris red and swollen, distended almost when it stuck out from between her labia. The pad of fat over her mound had receded already, revealing the early growth of her penis, ready to wrap around her engorged clit as it elongates into the spongy core and nerve-filled head, to swell and swell until she pops her first knot.
But that will come later, with her first true rut.
For now, her labia will shrink towards the back, to barely cover the opening of her small vagina, and swell towards the front. The swelling is already intense, the main source of heat when she carefully probes, feeling the tips of her testes in her developing ballsack.
And it itches.
At least she knows better than to scratch, rubbing instead. “Oh, God,” Robin whispers as electricity fills her belly. Her hips move of their own accord, rutting against her hand and building her arousal. She can feel her dick growing under her touch, drooling clear fluid to ease the friction.
Her skin feels tight, not just over her sex, but everywhere, like she can’t be contained as her hormones recalibrate to healthy alphan levels. And she keeps rubbing, humping her hand until she comes with a groan, her ejaculate still clear. Her balls will have to fully descend before her semen will contain any sperm.
There’s an ache anyway, at her perineum, and she knows from the pamphlets that she can stimulate her prostate through the vaginal canal. Carefully, Robin gathers her watery ejaculate to ease the way and probes at her tight entrance, prodding back until…
Her dick jumps and she gasps at the desperately building pressure low in her belly, as she comes again, hard and fast.
Robin still has days of pain ahead of her, but it’s official: She is an alpha.
🔥🔥🔥
In the summer of ‘85, Robin and Steve are back to back, tied up and prepared tor the worst when Steve murmurs, “What’s your presentation date? It’d be nice to know, since there’s no way we get out of here without being actual friends. I’ll get you a cake for your next anniversary.”
Robin barks a sad little laugh. “We’ll be waiting a while, since it’s June 26…”
Steve swallows. “What year?”
“1982.”
“Me too,” he whispers.
“Oh,” she sighs, brushing Steve’s knuckles with her own. “Guess it was meant to be then, me and you down here.”
“Not down here. This is bullshit. But yeah, me and you.”