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Wednesday Addams had never subscribed in biological determinism.
Female, omega - these accidents of reproduction, the random happenstance meeting of a few genes and chromosomes in her mother's womb, were irrelevancies and did not in any way dictate her destiny.
Nor did social expectations and conventions, including heteronormativity.
Anything otherwise would be beneath an Addams.
Surrender to the whims of an alphaheteropatriarchal social system.
Well, going two for three in defiance of biological determinism wasn't all that bad, Wednesday eventually had to concede.
In the past, and now, here, again.
Because here was where she lay, in her nuptial/mating bed, folded nearly in half beneath the crushing, glorious weight of her Alpha, every coherent thought burned away by the heat that had hollowed her out and flooded her vacuous body, all instinct and frankly gallingly pathetic need, with nothing but... concupiscence.
Had she the capacity for thought while she was being railed by her mate, the heaving, snarling, whining, and simpering bulk of Alpha werewolf, canine cock pounding into Wednesday's dominative body with such fervor that she might just steal the epithet "The Impaler" from the Voivode of Wallachia, Wednesday would likely be disgusted - and not in a good way - by herself.
But, sadly and also ecstatically, she was not because Enid Sinclair, massive, muscular, radiant with feral hunger like a slavering wolf feasting on a fresh kill thankyouverymuch, held her in a mating press so absolute that Wednesday’s world had narrowed to the stretch of her own cunt and the myriad scintillating sensations provoked by the thick, veined, membranous, and knotted length of werewolf cock driving into said cunt like a stake through a vampire's heart.
As she keened, unable to repress the choked whine that erupted from her dry lips, her knees were forced higher and wider, ankles locked over Enid’s broad shoulders. The position left her utterly open, vulnerable in a way that should have ignited every defensive instinct she possessed. Instead it only made the heat sing louder, a low animal howl in her blood. Every thrust punched the air from her lungs in wet, broken gasps. Every filthy slap of furred balls against her ass sent fresh shocks of sensation racing up her spine. She could feel herself dripping, slick and precum already leaking from where they were joined, pooling beneath her on the sheets she no longer cared about. The scent of them filled the air like smoke from a funeral pyre, which was apt because the fire was already burning, coursing through her veins like molten lead, searing away her flesh, her mind, her heart - herself - everything that was Wednesday Addams.:
Leaving behind only an Omega.
Only a breeding bitch.
Enid’s thick, musky alpha pheromones layered over Wednesday’s own sweeter, sharper omega slick until the combination made her head spin, thoughts slow and heavy as if submerged in boiling pitch, sticky, leaving behind nothing but burnt flesh as it poured over her brain.
Enid was large. Larger than any reasonable person had a right to be. Pale blonde fur, soft even as it brushed against Wednesday's thighs with each roll of Enid's hips, though matted with slick, sent tingling scraping sensations through Wednesday’s darker skin. Nothing like human pubic hair, the pelt that ran down in a thin wave from Enid's navel and then bloomed outwards across her sheath, now fully retracted, and down her heavy, canine scrotum. It only heightened the glorious debasement of the act.
So animalistic. A reminder that she, for all her wit and pride, has succumb, given in to that ancient and inexorable instinct.
Needing to be bred. Like an animal.
By her wolf.
Muscular thighs the size of Wednesday’s torso pinned her open with bruising force. Broad shoulders blocked out what little light remained in the room. The werewolf’s girlcock was a thick, flushed column of veined heat, the knot already half-formed and shiny with Wednesday’s own juices, the head blunt and insistent as it battered against her cervix with every deep, animal thrust. Beneath it swung a heavy pair of furry balls that slapped wetly against her soaked folds, leaving sticky trails that cooled against her overheated skin only to be warmed again by the next impact.
Wednesday’s characteristic dryness had abandoned her somewhere between the first rough shove onto her back and the moment that knot had first kissed her entrance. Now her mouth hung open, breath coming in short, punched-out gasps that edged toward growls of her own. Dark eyes, usually so flat and unimpressed, were glassy, pupils blown wide. A thin line of drool slipped from the corner of her lips. She hated the loss of control. She hated how good the loss felt. The heat had begun hours earlier as a low, insistent throb between her legs, an inconvenience she had intended to endure with the same stoic silence she applied to most of life’s irritations. By the time Enid had kicked the door in, eyes glowing with pure feral need, cock already hard and leaking a steady stream of precum, the throb had become a fever that left Wednesday shaking and empty. There had been no negotiation. No soft words. Only the animal certainty of an Alpha claiming what was hers. Wednesday had been forced onto her back with a strength that left no room for protest, legs shoved apart so hard her hips ached, and then that massive canine shaft had been pushed inside her in one long, relentless stroke that forced a sound from her throat she would never admit to making, raw... needy.
Beneath her.
Now she could not stop moving. Her hips jerked up to meet each brutal thrust of their own accord, chasing the stretch, the burn, the promise of that knot locking them together. Every time Enid bottomed out, the head of that thick cock nudged hard against her cervix, and white-hot sparks exploded behind Wednesday’s eyes. The sensation was too much. It was not enough. She needed more. She needed to be filled until there was no room left for thought, until the heat finally stopped clawing at the inside of her skin.
Enid’s movements had gone beyond rough into something purely feral. She drove into Wednesday with short, powerful snaps of her hips, growling low and continuous in her chest, the sound vibrating through both of them. Claws dimpled the mattress beside Wednesday’s head. The other hand gripped her thigh hard enough to leave bruises that would last for days, shoving the leg higher, folding her tighter until her knees nearly touched her ears. The werewolf’s teeth found the curve of Wednesday’s shoulder and scraped, not quite breaking skin but close enough that Wednesday felt the sharp edge of it in her bones.
Wednesday’s hands, usually so still and precise, scrambled for purchase. One clawed at Enid’s arm. The other slid lower, desperate, grabbing at the thick curve of Enid’s ass as the werewolf fucked into her with relentless force. Her fingers sank into firm muscle, then slipped inward, finding the smooth, hairless cleft. There was no soft fold of a pussy, no slick entrance waiting there. Only the tight, puckered ring of Enid’s asshole, clenching faintly with every powerful thrust.
“Look at you,” Enid snarled, voice rough and low, almost lost beneath the wet, filthy sounds of their fucking, the slap of skin and fur, the slick glide of cock into cunt, the heavy thud of balls against ass. “Leaking all over my cock - such a good little omega. Mine.”
Wednesday’s answer was a broken sound that might once have been a scoff. She tried to summon the dry observation. How very pedestrian, Sinclair, to resort to such base posessiveness. But the words dissolved before they reached her tongue. All that emerged was a soft, involuntary whimper that turned into something closer to a moan as Enid’s knot pressed harder against her rim, testing, demanding entrance. The stretch burned in the best way. Her body opened for it greedily, slick pouring out around the thick shaft to ease the way. Her fingers tightened on Enid’s ass, one digit brushing the puckered hole again, feeling it twitch under the light pressure.
“Lobita,” Wednesday managed as if in defiance, the nickname slipping out on a ragged breath. The word tasted strange and right on her tongue at once. Little wolf, her little wolf, even though Enid was anything but little. Little omega for her little wolf. “Harder.”
This was a command. Not a plea.
Wednesday Addams did not beg. Wouldn't.
Enid’s answering growl was pure animal approval. She leaned down, blonde hair tied back in a messy high ponytail falling around them like a curtain. The werewolf’s face was flushed, eyes half-lidded with pure predatory focus. She nuzzled into the crook of Wednesday’s neck and bit, hard enough this time that the sharp points of her teeth broke skin in a shallow crescent. Pain flared bright and clean, then melted instantly into the heat. Wednesday’s entire body seized around the cock buried inside her. Her hand on Enid’s ass squeezed harder, fingers digging into the firm flesh, while her mind fractured under the pleasure.
Then - agony-bliss-perfection!
The most satisfying sensation of as the world resolved, twisting like a kaleidoscope until it finally settled into proper focus, everything right and proper and glorious.
Enid knotted.
With one bruising, heaving thrust, gargantuan arms locked around Wednesday body and yanking her down with enough consistent pressure to cause her already gaping pussy lips to spread, dilating outwards, suckling and kissing the knotted base of Enid's pointed cock, until, finally, just when the strain had Wednesday almost wailing and thought, for an irrational instant, that she might tear in two, the bulbous monstrosity rammed inside of her with an audible pop.
A wet, obscene sound that seemed to echo in the room.
Wednesday’s back arched as far as the mating press would allow. A raw, high cry tore from her throat, unbidden, undignified, and utterly beyond her control. Enid’s knot was already swelling rapidly, locking them together with relentless pressure, and every pulse of it pressed against the most sensitive places inside her until she felt certain she would split apart. The werewolf’s balls, heavy and furred, rested flush against Wednesday’s ass, twitching as they began to empty in thick, heavy pulses.
Hot ropes of cum flooded her. Wednesday could feel every spurt painting her insides, the pressure building until her belly felt tight, claimed, rounded with the volume of seed her Alpha was forcing into her. Enid kept grinding through it, small, circular motions of her hips that dragged the knot against Wednesday’s walls and forced another broken moan from her lips. The sensation was overwhelming. Heat and stretch and the deep, rhythmic pulse of seed filling her until she felt certain she could take no more, and then somehow taking more still. Her own orgasm crashed over her without warning, violent, full-body, leaving her shaking and silent-screaming as her vision whited out. For a long, suspended moment there was nothing but the lock of the knot and the relentless throb of Enid’s cock emptying inside her, and the distant, half-mad thought that she had never felt so completely, perfectly used.
When the world returned, Enid was still locked inside her, still grinding slow and deep and animal, growling continuously against the bite mark on Wednesday’s shoulder. The werewolf’s hand had moved from Wednesday’s thigh to cup the slight swell of her lower belly, pressing just enough to make Wednesday feel how full she was. The pressure sent another aftershock rolling through her, cunt fluttering helplessly around the thick intrusion, milking more seed from the locked knot. Wednesday’s hand stayed where it was, gripping Enid’s ass, thumb brushing idly over the tight pucker as if confirming again that there was nothing else there, only the solid reality of her Alpha’s body.
“Still with me?” Enid’s voice was rough. She licked a stripe up Wednesday’s throat, tasting sweat and the salt of her pulse and the copper tang of the shallow bite. “You went kinda quiet - uh, even for you.”
Wednesday’s voice, when it came, was hoarse and thinner than usual, even as Enid continued to nuzzle and lap at her throat like an insistent puppy. “You are being excessively attentive, Lobita. It sickens me”
Equally pithy, but it was the best she could manage while her body continued to twitch and clench around the knot. Enid laughed, low and warm and edged with that same animal satisfaction, and the vibration of it traveled straight through the thick lock still buried inside Wednesday. Another slow pulse of cum leaked out around the seal, trailing down Wednesday's thigh.
“That's the point,” Enid said, hips still making those small, relentless circles. “You’re in heat. I’m in heat. That means knotting.” Her lips spread wide, baring teeth in an idiotically simpering and smug and chipper and in no way endearing grin. "And that means mandatory cuddle-time!"
Although that assurance was punctuated with a slightly more aggressive circular roll, or hump, of her hips that strained Wednesday's labia, the knot shifting against her walls.
Wednesday’s dark eyes fluttered. She could feel every ridge, every pulse, every slow drip of seed trying to escape and being forced back in by the swollen knot. Her clit throbbed where it was trapped between their bodies, overstimulated and still aching for more. It bordered on delicious pain, and yet her hips still twitched upward in tiny, involuntary jerks, seeking more of that deep, grinding pressure. She was Enid’s bitch in this moment, forced open, forced full, forced to take everything her Alpha chose to give, and the admission of it burned almost as brightly as the pleasure, as odious as it was thrilling. The heat made liars of all her carefully constructed defenses, and belied all of her youthful promises. Her body knew what it wanted even when her mind tried to pretend otherwise.
She could see everything if she looked down: the place where they were joined, the stretch of her own dark folds around the red of Enid’s knot. She could not look away. The sight of herself so thoroughly claimed fed the heat like parched dry kindling on a fire. Her body responded with another rush of slick, another helpless clench that dragged a deep, satisfied growl from Enid’s throat. The werewolf’s hips snapped forward in a short, hard grind that forced the knot even tighter against her walls.
“I hate you,” Wednesday whispered, lacking any real venom, the dry edge softened by the raw need still pulsing through her. Her fingers scrabbled harder at Enid’s ass, leaving faint red crescents in the pale fur, then dug in when Enid ground particularly deep. “I hate how much I need this. Lobita.”
“I know.” Enid kissed the corner of her mouth, surprisingly gentle for the brutality of the rest of her, then bit down lightly on her lower lip. “That’s why it feels so good. That’s why you’re going to take every drop I give you.”
Wednesday’s belly suddenly felt tighter, the pressure almost uncomfortable in its increasing intensity. She imagined, absurdly, vividly, the seed taking root, the heat finally sated only when she was thoroughly, irrevocably bred. The thought should have been revolting - imagine her, Wednesday Addams, as a mother! A farce. A jest. A unfunny joke to discard.
Instead it sent a fresh wave of slick flooding around the knot, and her body tightened in greedy welcome, pulling another low, feral sound from Enid.
Enid felt it. Of course she did. She growled approval and began to rock harder, small but relentless movements that never quite let the pressure ease, each one dragging the swollen knot against every sensitive ridge inside Wednesday’s cunt. The werewolf’s teeth found the other side of Wednesday’s neck and scraped, then bit down again, shallow but claiming. Wednesday’s second orgasm built slower, deeper, a rolling tide rather than a crash, fed by the dual assault of knot and teeth and the heavy, constant pulse of seed still filling her. She tried to hold it back, to reclaim some scrap of dignity, to remind herself that she was Wednesday Addams and she did not break so easily. But Enid’s free hand slipped between their bodies with purposeful roughness and found her swollen clit.
Two firm, almost punishing circles of a thick thumb were all it took.
Wednesday came with a broken, punched-out sound that was half-moan, half-snarl, body seizing around the knot so hard that Enid cursed. The werewolf’s hips stuttered, grinding deep and animal, balls drawn tight against Wednesday’s ass as they emptied what felt like an impossible volume of seed into her already-full cunt. The pressure was almost too much. Wednesday felt every pulse, every thick spurt forced deeper by the lock of the knot, until she was certain she could not take another drop, and then taking it anyway, because her Alpha had decided she would, and because the heat demanded it. Her vision grayed at the edges. Her fingers dug hard into Enid’s ass, one still pressed against the puckered hole that clenched in time with every spurt.
Somewhere in the haze she heard herself say it again, quieter, almost reverent: “Lobita.”
When the aftershocks finally eased, Wednesday floated in a haze of heat and pheromones and the heavy, satisfied weight of Enid. The werewolf remained locked inside her, breathing hard against the fresh bite marks on her neck and shoulder, one large hand stroking slow, possessive circles over the slight swell of Wednesday’s belly. The touch was proprietary. Animal. Wednesday should have bristled at the claim. Instead she felt only a deep, bone-deep rightness that she would never admit aloud, a quiet satisfaction that settled under her skin like the heat itself, soothiing like the chill of a mortuary table against bare skin.
“Still so tight,” Enid murmured, almost wonderingly, voice rough with residual growl. She ground her hips in a slow, testing circle that made Wednesday’s oversensitive walls flutter. “My perfect little omega. Still taking everything I give you.”
Wednesday’s voice was barely more than a rasp, words mere fragments. If she was going to be a marginally 'proper' Omega, she would, at least, be one on her terms. “If you attempt to withdraw before your phallus softens, Lobita, I will end you. Thoroughly. Creatively.”
Enid’s laugh was soft and fond and entirely too pleased. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She shifted just enough to settle more of her weight onto Wednesday without crushing her, keeping them locked together. The werewolf’s flesh was warm, almost scalding against Wednesday’s bare skin, a living blanket of heat and muscle.
Wednesday Addams, with as much stoicism as she could muster, lay folded open beneath her Alpha, thoroughly fucked and still quietly. She could catalogue, if she tried, the bruises already forming on her thighs, the shallow crescents of teeth on her neck and shoulder, the faint ache in her hips from being forced so wide for so long. She could catalogue the way Enid’s knot still pressed against every sensitive place inside her, the way her own belly felt faintly rounded with the volume of seed locked deep.
She did not try.
There were no numbers, figures, words, thoughts for this.
Instead she turned her face into the curve of Enid’s neck, breathed in the thick alpha scent of her, and let the heat have her. Her body, traitorous and honest, clenched once more around Enid’s cock and pulled another slow pulse of seed deeper, as if determined to keep every drop. The motion earned her a low, approving growl and a soft grind of hips that sent fresh sparks through her overstimulated nerves.
“Lobita,” she murmured again, quieter this time, the word almost lost in the hollow of Enid's throat. It was not a request. It was not quite a surrender.
Enid’s answering growl was pure satisfaction, taken and given.
She nuzzled into Wednesday’s hair, teeth grazing the shell of her ear.
And held her tighter.