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“C’mon, dear, it's just a few sips. Can't you do that for me?” Dottore coaxes, holding the vial of pink liquid to your lips. It glowed in front of you, like a dazzling pink diamond, and that's exactly why you were so hesitant. It wasn't that you didn’t trust the 2nd harbinger, you were simply not fond of taking medicine, especially if it didn't feel necessary. To make you more comfortable, he used the hand that wrapped around your waist to rub up and down your side as he spoke. “Remember when you had that terrible headache last week? I bet you that sickness is still there. You ought to be a good birdie and take your medicine.”
Before you could whine any more, he pressed the vial to your lips, leaving you no choice but to open your mouth and accept whatever he was giving you with obedience. The pink viscous liquid slides down your tongue, gracing your tongue with the flavour of strawberries and a hint of vanilla cream. It should come as no surprise that the most talented scientist you knew could do the impossible: develop a medicine that actually tastes good. While the medicine settles in your stomach, you sit still in his lap, carrying the detached expression and posture that you always did. Dottore smiled, feeling proud that you took the medicine without much fuss. A part of him wished you had smiled too, but he also understood where you were coming from. He himself only really smiled when his experiments were successful. Hopefully, he could smile again soon. If everything goes according to plan, you should be seeing the effects in about a week
Within a few days, you noticed yourself eating a lot more than usual, along with some dietary changes. No longer were you satisfied with the meat or dairy-heavy meals that were cooked for you. Instead, you had a ravenous craving for all sorts of berries and grains, even ones you didn't previously care for. You knew it would take a while to build up the courage to ask for a change in diet, leaving you feeling anxious when it came time for the next meal. But without saying a word, Dottore made sure whoever was in charge of cooking dinner that night made you something more suited to your newly discovered preferences. By the end of the evening, your bowl was scraped clean, but without a smile. You could not afford that for him, leaving you feeling melancholy.
The next morning, you enjoyed a decently sized bowl of Kutia, which you learned was a Snezhnayan dish made with wheatberries, honey, and dried fruits. After that, you were more than ready for a quick catnap. Your fragile hands rested between your head and the pillow, as you took frequent naps on the cozy library couch.
A few days went by during which Dottore was unusually distracted. Not by his work or experiments, but by you. On a regular day, you spent most of your time either in the library or in your room, and he would only check on you once or twice a day. But now, he seemed to come in atleast 4 or 5 times a day, and that was just when you were awake. Each time, he would ask how you were and if there was anything he could get you. Each time, you gave him a blank stare and shook your head. You think he enjoys the consistency in your responses. He seemed like the type of person to thrive off consistency, so that only discouraged you from making any change.
When you woke up from one of your naps, a deep, seething ache erupted in your stomach. The pain was so immediately unbearable that you couldn't stop the tears from coming out of your eyes. By the time Dottore arrived, the pillow was soaked in salty cries. He immediately rushed to your trembling form, kneeling right by the couch as he held your wrist to check your pulse.
“Where does it hurt?” He asks, pulling a strand of hair away from your face.
In response, you clutch your stomach as you try to get your words out clearly.
“My stomach, and— ” your speech breaks as you painfully grip the blanket draped over you. “—my back…”
With calculated precision, he scoops you up into his arms with the blanket still on, adjusting the blanket so it's wrapped snug and tight around your body. Giving you the hug he wishes he could be giving you. Everywhere outside the library was subjected to the intrusion of the freezing air from outside the palace, so he needed to keep you nice and warm when you were without a proper coat. Even with the blanket on, you shivered all the way to your bedroom, which he took you to so you could get proper treatment and rest.
As you lie on the bed, Dottore enters the connecting bathroom to grab some basic medical supplies so he can treat you. A thermometer, anti-inflammatories, and a heating pad. The thermometer read 104°F, then 106°F after a second try.
“I'm going to have to prescribe you these anti-inflammatory pills. They’ll at least help with your stomach. Your back, however…It’s going to hurt for quite a while.”
The Doctor holds out 3 small pills in his hand, along with a small cup of water he prepared. With the usual blank stare, you eyed what was in his hand carefully. When you didn’t take them, he helped sit you up and handed the cup of water to you so they’d slide down easier.
“The heating pad will also help.” He muttered lowly, his voice reverberating around the room and back to your ears in soothing waves. With his distractions, you felt like you had some sort of relief. But now that you were settled in, things got much worse. Your stomach felt like your organs were twisting inside out, and you felt like your spine was splitting in two. More tears spill from your eyes, leaving Dottore feeling a bit annoyed because any efforts to calm you down would be fruitless.
It hurt his broken, empty heart when he had to leave you. As much as he wanted to stay, there were experiments to be done. Besides, there was nothing more he could possibly do to alleviate the pain.
Glass clinked, and mixtures bubbled in the depths of his dimly lit lab as he continued working on one of his many projects. For a while, he thought he was safe in his lab, since he couldn't hear any of the cries seeping through the walls. But as soon as he stepped into the storage closet that was closer to the walls of your room, he heard your sonorous wails, how you cried and pleaded for relief. He didn't expect the potion to be so effective. Your wings shouldn’t be growing in so quickly. Immediately, he turns off all the machines in his lab and runs to his own bedroom, throwing every blanket he had collected from the building and putting it on his bed. Then, he added some fresh towels and even some of his shirts, all used to form a round nest. Once he deemed it good enough, he rushed to your room.
“What's going on? Is there something wrong with your back?” He asks, rushing over to your side and peeling away the blanket. To his surprise, my back looked almost normal, except it was turning a flushed red color.
With glossy eyes, you look up at him, lips quivering and all. Despite that, you don't ask for a single thing. You were already pushed past your limit, being spoiled with far too much of his attention. You shouldn't ask for more.
Dottore takes your silence as genuine and leaves you alone. Good night.
It wasn't until 3 AM that your eyes finally succumbed to the heavy weight pressing against them. That's when you finally stopped crying. When you woke up in the afternoon, you felt quite groggy. That's the first thing you noticed. Not the stomach pain, not the back pain, and not the tear-stained pillow. It felt as if the weight of a whole boat had been lifted from your stomach and placed onto your back again. Just as you’re rubbing your eyes, the alarm clock on the opposite side of the bed goes off. You turn around and.
You let out an agonizing scream of terror.
As you flip back to the previous side you were lying on, Dottore rushes down the hall to your room. There's no way. No…no, no–this can't be happening now. Not yet, not today. He came into your room, nearly breaking the doorknob off. When he laid his panicked eyes on you, he saw exactly what he did or didn't want to see. He still hadn’t decided.
“Don't. Move. Tell me exactly what you just tried to do.”
“I–I tried turning on my side so I could turn my alarm clock off.” You answered, frantically stumbling over your words.
He stared at the small white feathers that peaked out from behind you, then at the stupid alarm clock that was still ringing. It was so annoying that he couldn't think, so he turned it off before saying anything else.
Slowly, you turn around, showing your bare back to him as you explain to him. “Is there something weird on my back? It feels really swollen, so maybe I just put too much pressure on it when turning to my side…”
Dottore covers his mouth and cheeks with his hand, hiding the flustered and outright shocked expression he wore. Of course, there was no point, seeing as you were facing the opposite direction. On your back grew two decently sized wings, coated in delicate white feathers. They were slightly ruffled from being kept under the covers, which gave him the strong urge to preen them.
His silence started to worry you.
“Is it that bad?” You ask, turning around despite not being instructed to.
He shakes his head in response. “No, not at all. Its…” He takes an uncharacteristically long pause. You had never seen him so at a loss for words. “It’s wonderful. You are wonderful.”
You thought letting him see your pain would bring you more answers. Instead, you were left more clueless than before. He looked down at you with a pitying expression before kneeling down at your bedside and resting a comforting hand on your thigh. His other hand fumbles in his lap, as he struggles to come up with the words he wants to say. After a brief moment of contemplation, he decides to walk you to the bathroom. Let the mirror do the talking.
At first sight, you broke into tears. With a conceited smirk, he turns you around so you can cry into his chest and stain his shirt in pearlecent tears. Slowly, you calm down enough for him to suggest lying in bed. A familiar feeling invaded your body, making you unsure and even insecure about the way you agreed so willingly, how you continue to let him get close. Too close. Yet, you don't push away. His unusually gentle hands grip onto your wrist, leading you out of the bedroom and into his room.
Before explaining what was going on with his bed, he led you to his nightstand, where he kept a jar filled with an odd substance. “Do your wings still hurt?” He asked.
You quietly nod in response. They were still extremely sore, if not worse. When he sees you press your hands on your lower back, he opens the jar and walks over to the bed. You sit down next to him until he instructs you to turn around so that your back is facing him. He saw the worry in your face and assured you that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You fully believe him.
The cold, thick liquid is applied to your back, at the base of your wings. A shiver runs down your spine while you clutch your hands securely in your lap.
“This will help with the pain, trust me. Every time my wings get sore, this does just the trick.”
His…wings? You assume he was joking until you turn around after he applies the salve and are met with a pair of larger, eerie black wings. They looked nearly identical to yours, except for the obvious change in color. For a moment, you couldn't believe your eyes. Now, he was just like you. And you were just like him.
So overwhelmed with emotion, Dottore didn't even bother asking before picking you up and taking you into the makeshift nest on his bed, which was made up of a few of his clothes and nearly all the blankets in the house. An uneasy feeling grows in your stomach now, like a seed is rotting in the soil of your stomach. When you try to pull away his hand to escape his bed, he tuts and pulls you right back in.
“What’s wrong? I told you I would take care of you, do you not believe me?”
His words make you hesitate and reconsider your actions. Maybe it was you who was the problem, not him. Despite having confidence in this thought, you couldn't bring yourself to express it verbally quite yet.
“No, I believe you.”
Dottore smiles, and you can hear it when he speaks.
“Good.”
You curl into a fetal position, with your elbows tucked to your stomach, where he has one arm still wrapped around you. The mattress you lie on is much more comfortable than yours, which makes no sense to you, because he never goes to bed in the first place.
Very suddenly, you feel a poking sensation on your sensitive wings. You turn around and see him intensely focused on your feathers. A yelp escapes your mouth as you feel the sensation again. Every few seconds, it comes again and again, becoming less painful. Just like regular birds, your feathers would get ruffled from time to time, which requires them to be preened every few days. Naturally, Dottore was more than eager to do this for you.
“Stay still. It’ll hurt less if you do.” He muttered as his experienced hands rearranged the delicate feathers of your wings that he loved so much. Once each feather settled exactly where he wanted them, he left a soft kiss at the base, almost where they meet your spine. A tingling sensation rolled down your spine, making you lean your head back. Dottore pulled you closer now, pressing your sensitive wings against your back, causing you to shiver. With a smile, he assumes you are cold and uses his larger wings to keep you warm.
You look like an angel. A delicate species, requiring fragile care and delicate caresses. He only wanted to make you just like him, but in the end, not even the most heinous experiment could make something as monstrous as him. As he mindlessly traced his finger along your arms, he started to feel better about how this experiment had gone. After all, he got what he wanted—to make you like him. To make you feel a sense of belonging, and to break through the cold exterior you put up. Though there was still work to be done with that second goal. The way you curled into him so comfortably told him that he was making good progress. Seeing that, he decides to take things further by trying to make you smile. First, he tries holding your hand in his. It’s a simple act, something he was sure that his family did. And after all, that was what you wanted. Right?
He gave you a minute, waiting for some sort of reaction, yet you didn't even bother opening your eyes. Did you fall asleep?
You open your eyes after feeling a sudden poke at your cheek. Your eyes blink once, then twice, before staring blankly at him.
Dottore promptly slumped back down against the pillow at his failure. At least this time you didn't pull away. His next attempt should be an act of service, he thought. He then let out a faint sigh, as he had to get out of bed. The sudden removal of his wings from your body left you shivering again, until he returned to bed with a small comb in hand.
It felt strange at first, having someone else do your hair. You had gotten so used to doing everything for yourself ever since you were abandoned. At first, he seemed to struggle, as you could feel sudden tugs on your hair that made his brow furrow. But like everything else, he quickly learned the right process and was able to take care of your hair with skilled excellence. You were, without a doubt, extremely grateful. Yet you still couldn't come up with a way to repay him. So you did nothing, lying against the bed with a blank stare as he finished working with your hair.
Seeing his act of service fail, Dottore started feeling a bit hopeless. If doing things for you didn't make you happy, then what possibly could? He started to believe his efforts would be fruitless. Maybe you wanted mora, or maybe you wanted something beyond his means. There was only one last option, one last trick up his sleeve. He scooted back slightly, giving your wings some room to breathe and stretch out. Then, he placed a gentle hand on the edge of one and slowly ran his hands along them. His hands felt soft against your feathers, contrasting the usually rough texture they have. The room is silent, minus the sound of your slightly heavier breathing. His hands have moved from the edge to the center, then all the way to the tips, and ending at the extremely sensitive base that made you shudder and arch your back as he skillfully glides his hands along your wings. Dottore sees this positive response and continues playing with them. As he gets a feel of things, he notices that you seem extra sensitive in a few spots, notably the underside of the base, and at the top where they bend. Each time he rubs his hands against them, you can't help but squirm against his chest and the mattress, making it harder for him to keep a hold. Rather than complaining or scolding you, he kept his mouth shut and savoured the adorable way your cheeks burned and the corners of your mouth lifted.
As cute as you were, squirming and giggling as he switched between stroking your feathers and tickling your back, he wanted something more. He wanted your squirming and squealing to be genuine, not just from an involuntary, uncontrollable brain reaction.
What he truthfully wanted was for you to feel so overwhelmingly filled with ecstasy and love that you couldn't help but physically and verbally express it.
His hands wander away from your hands and to your stomach, playfully pinching and tickling your soft flesh. Then they move down to your thighs, sending electric tingles down your legs as he gets a feel of your damp underwear. As a result, you close your thighs, trapping his hand in between. Dottore’s cheeks flushed slightly as he struggled for a moment to remove his hand. It wasn’t his intent to go that far, but you didn't seem to mind either.
Your cheeks grew warm with embarrassment as well. You could feel his hand fumble around, trying to find a more appropriate spot on your body. They first land on your waist, then move to your chest. You could tell he wasn’t very experienced, but that's okay because neither were you. If anything, you were relieved by his lack of communication. It saved you from embarrassment.
His hands were soft, yet unwary and eager when it came to getting a feel of your chest. Eventually, his fingers made their way to your nipples, giving them a delicate rub through the night gown you were still wearing. A sudden wave of heat washed over you, leaving you frozen in shock as he left a faint kiss on your neck. You weren’t sure why that particular act had you so stunned; it wasn't even a kiss on the lips. Instead, it was fleeting and casual. It didn’t mean anything.
Dottore seemed as if he was barely able to hold himself together. Any more of that adorably oblivious face, and he would melt into a puddle like a hydro slime. Still, he pushed through with one fist clenched while his other hand moved to the zipper of your nightgown. Before sliding it too far, he paused, giving you a moment to object. When you do nothing but lie there like a statue, he continues his ministrations.
Once he had removed both yours and his outer clothes, it had dawned on him that the two of you had been lying in the same position the whole morning. Not once had he considered whether you wanted to move.
“Are you comfortable lying on your side like that? You can move if you want to.”
You nodded your head in response, though truthfully, you did want to move into a more comfortable position. It's just that you didn't know which position would be more comfortable. The thought of turning to face him felt too embarrassing. Too intimate. Lying on your stomach could work, but you didn't want to stare lifelessly at the ceiling. It would look like you weren't enjoying things, and your wings would be uncomfortable. Lying on top of him would be nice, but you were too nervous to ask.
Dottore could sense that you were unsure, but he couldn’t read your mind either. He wishes he could.
To solve this, he decides to put you on your back and lie on top of you, with his elbows resting on the mattress so he isn't putting all his weight onto you.
Naturally, his eyes couldn't help but stare at your nude body. He tried not to look for too long and make you uncomfortable, that was the last thing he wanted. So, he moved his face to nuzzle between the chest he loved so much. As if that was any better.
You watched him rather attentively as he gave small pecks to your cleavage. His pastel blue hair was right in front of you, looking so soft and fluffy. You couldn't help but run your fingers through it, getting a good feel of his soft roots. When he moved down to trail kisses from your chest to stomach, you removed your hands and let them rest on the mattress beside your head.
Your eyes were practically glued to him as you watched him admire your stomach. He paused his kisses, only so he could get a good look at it. As you lay there waiting patiently, Dottore made sure to get a good look at your stomach. He was quite confident you would be able to accommodate him and a few eggs. Maybe 3 or 4, but certainly no more than 5. He couldn’t wait. You’d be so pretty with a swollen stomach, filled with a clutch of his eggs. Of course, it would be up to you whether or not you wanted to lay them. Whether or not you want to be a mother is entirely up to you.
With an unusual smile on his face, he leans over to kiss you on the cheeks.
The amount of time that he spent eyeing your stomach was certainly odd to you. In fact, it was frustrating because he essentially left you to deal with the growing heat between your legs all alone. By the time his focus had gotten away from your tummy, your underwear was already soaking wet. Once he realized this, he quickly discarded them onto the floor somewhere so he could get to work. For a minute, he wasn't sure about how he was supposed to position himself, until he finally understood and gently pulled you to the edge of the bed. Slowly, he rubbed your inner thighs, giving a moment for the two of you to mentally prepare. Although he didn't want to take too long either. He could tell you were getting eager, and at any moment that eagerness could turn into fear or anxiety. With his cautious fingers, he gently traced the outside of your slit. He could see it glistening from being wet for so long, which made him admire just how much willpower you had.
Using his index and middle fingers, he gently massaged your slit until he felt you were ready for him to insert the two fingers. When he did, a soft moan escaped the glossy lips you were biting down on. Even with the little amount of friction he was using, you could feel your legs start to tremble against the cozy sheets. As you felt yourself getting close, you covered part of your embarrassed face with your hand.
His pace quickened as he watched you get flustered, which also helped with his rapidly growing arousal. Your vision grew hazy until you eventually gave in and shut your eyes as you reached your climax.
An expletive escaped your mouth in the form of a quiet mumble as you came down from your high. Meanwhile, Dottore pulled out his two fingers, which were coated in a translucent white slick. Without any snarky comments, he discreetly placed his fingers in his mouth to taste your arousal before resting carefully on top of you.
When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of his light blue hair as he was peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone. He looked up at you with wide red eyes, before gently lifting you up so he could lay you down with your head against the pillow. For a moment, you thought he was done. His body felt relaxed against yours, and he had stretched out his ashy black wings to cover the rest of your body. They were so soft and warm, like a weighted blanket. Your brain felt fuzzy as you nearly drifted off to sleep.
To your surprise, you felt the unfamiliar sensation of flesh poking at your core, leaving small drops of pre cum in between your folds. You can hear his shaky, eager breaths in your ear as he successfully aligns the tip against your slit. Then, with a sharp inhale, he sinks into your tight cunt with only a little bit of resistance. His eyes watched, and his ears listened to you, taking note of how your breath hitched as well. He found every reaction of yours to be beyond adorable. For a minute longer, he lay on top of you, not moving an inch as he gazes into your eyes. He thought your pupils had widened, but maybe that's just his imagination.
“You can move now,” You pleaded, having anticipated his movement for a while now.
Dottore snapped out of the trance-like state you had put him in and began to roll his hips into you, sending inconsistent waves of pleasure that sparked through your insides, until he had already gotten comfortable with your body. Once he did, he leaned closer to your face, breathing in your repressed moans and breaths as if it were a drug.
“You don't need to keep quiet.” He breathed while fucking into you at a tender pace. “I love every sound you make.”
For some reason, you nod your head in agreement, which only leaves you feeling more embarrassed. Why the fuck would you nod your head like that? He wasn’t even asking you a question.
In the heat of the moment, he pinned your wrists to the mattress, leaving you a blushing mess. If you could move your legs, they would be kicking like a schoolgirl. The little things he did to express control left your heart racing. And the best part was that you could enjoy yourself without having to take on the mental load of worrying about what to do. It was certainly a welcome change after having to fend for yourself at such a young age.
With your hands restrained, he starts picking up the pace in an attempt to bring you to your climax. Despite the lustful state he was in, he tried to remind himself that this was about your pleasure, not his. Although in a way, the two are deeply intertwined. When fucking into you, he could feel his tip just barely brushing against your cervix. His thrusts became more and more chaotic as he rutted into you at desperate, unpredictable rhythms. He almost fell apart in your arms.
“F-Fuck, I'm gonna lay my eggs in you. That's okay, right?” he stutters in your ear, sending a tingling sensation down your spine.
You tried forming a coherent response. You really tried your hardest. But with the way his cock was hitting into you at an unrelenting pace, you could barely contain your moans, which made it impossible to get even a syllable out.
His hips continued rutting into you, pushing you closer and closer to your climax. Soon, your body felt as if it were weightless against the mattress, or as if you were lying blissfully on a cloud.
You could barely remember what he said earlier. Something about laying eggs in you? You weren't sure if he was being serious or not, but it's not like you minded. In fact, the idea sounded nice. It had always been your greatest desire to have a family. To have a sense of belonging. Someone who was tied to you forever, in some way or another. The emotional bliss, as well as the way you felt the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, pushed you over the edge, leaving your whole body shuddering in his gentle arms.
And almost in sync with you, Dottore finished inside of you with a prominent thrust, before collapsing into your skin. His hands, which were covered in sweat, held on to your waist so tightly that you had no chance of moving away. No chance that you would try to escape. He never wanted anything so badly. For you to take his eggs, to make your tummy swell.
“Fuck, I—”
He didn't even get to finish his sentence before burying his face into your upper chest.
It didn't take long for you to feel his cock swelling inside of you, preparing you for the stretch of his eggs. You started getting a bit nervous now. Dottore notices this and distracts you with sweet praises. Slowly, the egg travels from his cock into your prepared cervix, forcing you to let out a choked sob before it finally slips into your womb.
“There you go…Im so proud.” He praises, as he gently pats the back of your head before giving you a kiss on the cheek to prepare you for the next.
The second egg soon follows after the first, as it slowly makes its way from his cock into the opening of your womb. Since you were more prepared, you were able to keep yourself a bit quieter. Although you still shed a few tears despite it feeling somewhat pleasurable. Dottore didn't notice until now, and promptly questioned you.
“Are you okay, dear? Why are you crying? Please don't tell me it hurts…”
He uses his palm to stroke your cheek. You shake your head in response, allowing him to let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“Just one more after this, that’s all I ask of you.” He breaths, then wipes your tears.
Before you can finish your thought, the second egg breaches into your womb, settling against the first one. You can feel your stomach getting heavier already. Dottore’s hands move to your waist, and he prepares to lay the last egg in your swollen tummy. His grip on you tightens, and you quickly know why. For some reason, the third egg is slightly larger than the first two, which forces your walls to stretch a bit more. Unlike the others, it also comes to your cervix much faster. You can feel your walls pulsing around it, which makes it far more pleasurable than the others. As it pushes into your womb, you fail to bite back your pleasure and end up letting out a wanton moan as your thighs tremble, until it makes its way into your womb.
If he hadn’t been in the process of laying eggs into your womb, he surely would’ve come from the sound alone.
Now you lie breathless against the bed, your mind still foggy from the pleasure, as well as your orgasm from earlier. Once the third and final egg had settled, he slowly pulled out and wrapped his arms around you.
“You did so well for me. I couldn’t possibly ask for anything more.”
A sigh of pleasure escaped your breath as you attempted to wrap your arms around him, too. Unfortunately, his wings only seemed to get in your way. Watching you struggle to navigate around them, Dottore stretches his wings and uses them to cover your sides, leaving you in a cozy cocoon with his body and feathers.
You almost wanted to ask what the point of all of this was. The wings and the eggs, what are they for? But deep in your heart, you knew. And there was no reason to say it aloud, because you know that everything he does is fully intentional. Every possible outcome was considered—the good and the bad. You knew he was so positively certain about your desires, which left you with a deep sense of satisfaction. From not having to take on the mental load of your own needs and cravings, to giving you a sense of belonging, Dottore truly knew your heart and body inside out.