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The Nightstalker

Samael pushed a button on the flickering vending machine. While the nuclear batteries in these things lasted forever, the actual dispensing mechanisms were usually less lucky. The radioactivity from the battery itself tended to tear apart chips, circuitry, and vacuum tubes after a while, and the bombs certainly hadn’t helped any of that. The machine gave a sad beep, framed by the sound of grinding gears, and then stopped.

Oh, well. The bat had figured that he might as well try paying with this old currency called a “dollar.” It wasn't as though they were useful for anything else when everyone had switched to bottlecaps and bartering. Only collectors and historians cared about the currency of the once-great nuclear wasteland that had once been known as America. Or really, any of the history of it.

Sam wrapped his fingers around the fabric-clad handle of his scavenging pick. It wasn’t quite a pickaxe, but more like what might have been called a climbing pick back in the days when people sought out hardship for fun. He turned around and then put his entire body into the strike as he drove the pick into the vending machine’s locking mechanism. An alarm sounded, though the beeping was anemic. The batteries lasted forever, yes, but after a while, they were only good for giving people radiation poisoning and little else.

What a grand error in judgement it had been, making everything – including bombs – nuclear. In a different world, Sam thought, as the discolored, tempered glass that hid the machine’s goodies from him shattered in a shower of harmless, dull shards. With the lock broken, the machine swung open, and he feasted his eyes on the prize. Nothing too exciting; a stock of bottles of the classic Nuclear Blast Cola – enriched with real radium for energy – and a selection of spoiled goods that nobody wanted. But there, at the very bottom, a few Twinkles snack cakes!

For some reason, people wanted those disgusting things. They never went bad, at least as far as the bat knew. He scooped them and the cola into his backpack, grabbing a handful of prewar money from the machine’s register as well, and then, with a sigh, turned around to look at the rest of the ruins. It’d all been picked clean, more or less. Obviously it had, this close to civilization.

That was a problem for the bat, being a scavenger. Every time he went out to collect enough supplies to last a few more weeks, he had to go further. The city was safe enough. The outskirts a little less so. The suburbs were decidedly unsafe, full of irradiated mutant insects, but the real danger came after that, far out in the desert and the distant industrial areas. Their factories still held valuables, many valuables, and the bat had just gotten a tip about one that was supposedly almost untouched.

The local barter-king wanted some of that stuff, especially components from the cars that the factory had once manufactured. And so, in pursuit of another handful of caps, that was where the bat was headed. The faint beeping of the vending machine had been a mere distraction. He was already about a day’s journey away from his settlement, and there were a couple more to go.

He kept walking. At least it was quiet. Nothing really lived in the old cities. It was, perhaps, counterintuitive. Once, these cities had been the very center of life on the planet, the most densely populated areas they had. Yet, when the war started and the bombs dropped, the “supply chain” that many of them worshipped with near religious fervor had broken. Suddenly the cities had become nothing but a concrete and metal wasteland where nothing natural grew. Even the cockroaches hated these places. As it turned out, where nothing lived, nothing wanted to live, and so, Sam continued his journey in relative peace until he was well outside city limits, and his legs were aching from the exertion.

He set up camp. Nothing special. He only had a bedroll this time of the year when it was warm enough. No tent, it drew too much attention. No fire, either, not unless he had to, and for now, he was fine drinking the radium-enriched goodness that was the everlasting Nuclear Blast Cola instead of water. Yes, one might initially think that drinking it was a bad idea, but drinking unpurified water was worse, and Sam was already a mutant anyway. At least, he liked thinking of it that way.

He had, as fate would have it, been born with a pussy instead of a cock. A fertile pussy, as far as he knew, a theory he based on the fact that he experienced heats like women did. He had learned to accept that it was just how he was, and heats were certainly a wonderful feeling when protection was available, like in the settlements. They were a little less wonderful when he was alone in the wasteland when they began, which was, unfortunately, the case today.

Samael could, with some willpower, ignore the urge to masturbate or get fucked while he was working. There wasn’t much room for arousal when you were elbow-deep in old machinery, trying to dig out something useful. The problem arose when he set up camp, as he had now done in a little recessed corner of a cliff. As he lay there, staring at the crystal-clear sky and the countless stars therein, the feeling grew more and more intense.

He sighed again. It wasn’t the best idea to masturbate anywhere in the wasteland. Not only did he have to keep himself from moaning when rubbing his sodden slit, but there was also the problem of scent, too. Without any pollution or much life to cover up his pheromones, the wind could carry them over quite a distance.

Then again, as far as he knew, no compatible species lived out here. Just the kind of things that would’ve largely preferred to poison him, slice him up, or swallow him whole. They weren’t attracted to any scents he could produce, no matter how alluringly feminine. Or so the bat hoped, as he surrendered to the tingly burning between his legs, sliding a hand into the leather-reinforced pants he had improvised to protect his knees amidst all the scrap metal.

His fingers found his soft, damp slit. It felt warm to the touch, and just that brief touch made the bat shiver. Yep, he was going into heat, at the worst time possible. But there was no other way around it; he had to take the edge off, or sleep would remain a distant dream. It wasn’t always an easy choice, especially when other things were more important, but in the middle of the night, laying on his bedroll and gazing at the sky? The choice was easy.

Samael began to rub his clit, biting down on his other hand to keep any reflexive moans as quiet and muffled as possible. Soon he was wet enough to soak his hand, needing only the slightest pleasurable touch once his heat had started. He allowed himself the rare fantasy of a cock between his legs, thrusting deep into that slippery, soon-to-be fertile cunt of his until he was pregnant. Normally, he disliked such thoughts, as though getting knocked up would make him less of a man. But today, those thoughts felt natural and sexy.

Unbeknownst to the bat, he had already attracted an unseen audience of one in the dark. He didn’t make himself known yet, instead choosing to admire Sam from afar. For now.

Soon enough, Sam was thrusting his fingers knuckle-deep into his heated pussy, indulging in all the fantasies he wished he didn't have. In reality, he would’ve been quite distressed if it happened, but in the moment, just the thought of a cock sinking into him and filling him with seed right in the middle of his heat was almost too hot to bear. It didn’t take long for him to cum; after all, while he had a pussy, the bat’s sex drive was still rather masculine. And this was just a maintenance orgasm to keep himself functional, not something he did to enjoy more than that.

A few more minutes of feverish rubbing later, Sam bit down on his arm as his orgasm crashed over him. He succeeded in keeping himself from moaning as pleasure shot through his body, leaving his back arching and his pussy eagerly clenching in familiar rhythm around his fingers and the cock they represented in his mind. He imagined that cock throbbing inside him, jerking again and again, inflicting a terrible pregnancy on him as he soaked it with his juices-

-and then the orgasm was over. Samael slumped down on his bedroll, panting quietly. He felt a little dirty, as he always did after that kind of fantasy. If it were to actually happen, he’d be grounded at the damn settlement, unable to head out and scavenge for things the way he loved to do, for months on end. Bumping his swollen belly into everything. Needing other people to take care of him while he languished in utter boredom. Maybe he’d have to pick up knitting just to pass time. He didn’t want that, Sam told himself, no matter how hot the thought might’ve been.

With that, he drifted off to sleep. Undisturbed sleep, thankfully, and a dreamless night, from which he awoke feeling refreshed enough to complete the journey.

Sam packed up his equipment and set off again, navigating with only a map and compass. What struck him was that there wasn’t much out there. Perhaps once upon a time it’d been a vibrant forest, or at least a picturesque field. Now, most everything was dead bar for a few plants that had adapted enough to tolerate the high levels of radiation. In the distance, he could see mutated flies scrounging for whatever food they could, and in another direction, a coyote – one of the few species crafty enough to have survived the apocalypse. A few rats here and there, both small and large. Thankfully, they left him alone, not deeming the fight worth what little meat there was on his body.

Soon the factory loomed ahead. On the outside, it looked worn, but how could it not, having survived both the bombs and the nuclear winter that had followed? If his sources were to be believed, though, the insides were just about untouched. Of course, out in the wasteland, things could change in a heartbeat. Bandits could’ve moved in, or worse than bandits, raiders. Sam shuddered at the thought of it. Then again, if there were raiders, he’d see and hear them a mile away. They weren’t a subtle bunch.

Indeed, by the time he arrived at the factory, he hadn't encountered anyone at all. He could immediately see why the place hadn’t been looted. The exterior had turrets, for one. A less experienced scavenger would’ve turned back at the sight of them, not willing to take even the slight risk of them being functional. Sam, however, could see a thin layer of rust that suggested they hadn’t moved or fired for what had to be quite a while.

They weren’t the only obstacle. The main entrance was one enormous steel gate that he had no hope of penetrating without an entire team or a large amount of explosives. He had neither, and so Sam spent hours walking around the perimeter, looking for an alternative point of entry. It seemed hopeless. The factory, from what he could tell, had produced military equipment, and as such, had been rather high security. Though no guards remained and the military as an institution was long gone, the reinforced everything remained, as sturdy as it had ever been.

It wasn’t until his second walk around the perimeter that Sam noticed something, almost entirely covered by bushy growth and tumbleweeds. There was a hole, blasted through the other wall. It looked as ancient as the factory itself, perhaps left there by the bombs, or an errant missile that had been scrambled by radiation. No, wait. The steel walls were bent outwards, so the blast had come from inside the facility, he realized. Some sort of munition must have gone off on the production line.

That was another point where a less experienced scavenger likely would’ve turned back. If there had already been one failure on the production line, there was a certain danger that other munitions could also be compromised and waiting to blow. But after this long, Sam reasoned, anything that could explode already would have by now.

He brushed the tumbleweeds aside, leaving the entrance bare. By now, though, it was already getting dark again, which meant he’d have to rely entirely on his flashlight to see anything, and he certainly didn’t want to fumble around with high explosives in pitch-black darkness. It wouldn’t be much better during the day, as the factory seemed to have no windows – bar perhaps on the roof – but even a slight improvement in visibility could easily be the difference between coming home rich or ending up as a cautionary tale for the next scavenger.

As such, Samael set up camp again. This time, he afforded himself a little fire; while risky, he found himself in a mood that was almost celebratory, and the factory itself would conceal most of the glow from distant bandits.

He had no idea that he had already been followed. The very same creature that had watched him last night was there to watch Samael once again feverishly rub himself to an orgasm, and then, to sleep.

Oh, the bat smelled delicious, the stranger thought. He was a nightstalker: the genetically engineered and mutated hybrid of rattlesnake and coyote, and a bandit by trade. Initially his plan had simply been to steal anything the clueless scavenger found, but now - close enough to catch his scent in the air - he found himself more interested in the bat instead. He could smell the bat’s heat, and that sweet, familiar spice revealed that he had a treasure that the nightstalker wanted even more than he wanted riches. It had been months since he last emptied his balls in a warm, wet pussy, and unlike the bat, he found masturbating to be a waste when he could be siring a clutch of his young in someone’s womb.

It'd certainly be more fun than lugging another cartful of scrap metal and various odds and ends to his camp to barter later. Oh, and he’d take the bat’s supplies, too. It was only fair, wasn’t it? After all, the bandit was about to give him the best orgasm of his life, and if not, then damn close. He licked his sharp, serpentine fangs. With that, he lowered himself to the ground and sneaked towards that bat, moving quietly with years of practiced expertise. It was a skill he’d developed out of sheer necessity; wastelanders were always alert, even when sleeping, and while the bat certainly seemed near comatose after his orgasm, the nightstalker had no doubt that he’d wake up at the slightest sound of a cracking branch.

But he was silent as the night itself.

Samael didn’t wake up until it was far too late. When he did, it was to a growl as something pounced on him. Immediately, the bat kicked at him, managing to push him off temporarily while he scrambled for his weapons, only to get pounced again, this time accompanied by a sharp pain in his neck. The thing had bit him, he realized, and worse yet, he immediately felt sluggish. Venom.

He spun around, a sudden dizzy warmth spreading through him from the little wound on his neck. Every beat of his heart spread the poison further throughout his system, and each part it reached felt heavy as lead. Not numb; he felt everything, but his body just wouldn’t respond to his commands. The last thing Samael managed to do before his arms were fully gone was to roll himself over enough to be able to face his attacker.

It was a nightstalker. A hybrid of reptile and canine. A pair of slitted eyes stared at him, a forked tongue licking over the beast’s muzzle. Behind him, a long tail like a rattlesnake's flicked idly, and the fur on his body was interrupted by patches of scales. And a pair of fangs that he displayed in a grin.

“You don’t need to panic,” he grinned. Thank god, at least it’s a sentient beast. “I’m only going to show you a good time. Well, and take all your supplies. Figure you can make it back to wherever hole of settlement you crawled out of with just a bottle of water.”

“Ff-“ Samael hissed, but his tongue and throat both felt too stiff to say the rest of the words he wanted. “Nnf.”

“Yeah, yeah. Life ain’t fair. But at least we’re going to have a very pleasurable night together. Think I couldn’t smell your little secret?” the nightstalker hissed, with the kind of grin that might’ve left Sam weak in the knees in a scenario where he wasn’t being robbed.

Samael didn’t immediately know what he meant, though. Not before the bandit dug his grubby fingers into the waist of his pants and pulled them down to his ankles, leaving his pussy in plain view. It was still wet from his early masturbation, glistening in the starlight.

“See, knew it. You’re some kinda mutant just like yours truly,” the bandit chuckled. “But hey, all the better, eh? ‘cause I’ve got a pair of balls that need draining.”

No! That absolute bastard. He tried to squirm, tried his hardest to fight the paralyzing venom as the laughing hybrid undid his belt and dropped his own pants, revealing some seven or eight inches of rock-hard canine cock. As if it couldn’t be any worse, he had a knot, too. A big one. The kind that’d make sure he didn’t spill a drop of his damned bandit seed once he pumped it into Sam’s defenseless body.

“See? Little guy here likes you already. Mhm, never thought I’d be into other males, honestly, but even without that cute little pussy of yours, I think I’d have gone for it,” the nightstalker remarked. And without any further ado, he knelt between Sam’s legs, pushing them apart with his knees. “You’re blessed, really. Can get out of any kinda trouble by just letting someone have a quick rut in you.”

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Don’t you dare try it, you asshole, Sam thought, but by now he was laying there completely limp, unable to as much as close his mouth as the bandit stuck one of his fingers into his mouth.

“Just relax, eh? Your body was clearly made for this. No use fightin’ it,” he goaded the bat. And then, he grabbed his length and rubbed the tip against Samael’s damp lips. The touch sent a shiver through the bat’s body, as much as he wished it didn’t. He was in heat, after all, which meant that his body was ready to betray him at a moment’s notice. “See? Guess your pussy likes me, too.”

With an uncaring grunt, he lodged his cock just against Sam’s entrance, and then thrust a good few inches into him, huffing as his pussy instinctively clamped down around him.

“Mhm,” the nightstalker hummed, as if that clench proved him right, and then, he began to fuck Sam. He wasn’t very gentle, but he wasn’t rough either, leisurely rutting his sopping wet pussy.

The venom seemed to intensify all sensations well beyond what Sam would’ve wanted. He couldn’t really moan, but his breathing grew both quick and shallow as the pleasure began to build, with the bandit’s rough pube-fluff grinding against his clit on each inward thrust. His cocky grin, perhaps charming, was infuriating in the moment, but Sam couldn’t focus on the anger when his stupid, treacherous cunt responded with jolts of pleasure to each inward stroke of the bandit’s cock. It was as if his body had an entirely different plan than his mind did, and being utterly paralyzed, he was helpless to stop it.

He didn’t want it to feel so good, he didn’t want to shudder with carnal pleasure each time that swollen knot kissed his slippery folds roughly, but he had no choice. It felt good, and it felt better with every knowing thrust, to the point that his pussy – and his mind – began to feel like they were melting into the pleasure.

“Ya, I know you can’t say much at the moment, but hey, if you ain’t feel good, just stop clenching and I’ll stop,” the bandit teased or mocked him, even leaning down to lap across both of the bat’s nipples, one after the other. “Goddamn, you’re pretty fuckin’ tight too. Can’t imagine you’ve even let many even see this little treasure of yours, much less let ‘em plunder it.”

Another flare of anger in Sam’s mind was quickly quelled by another surge of pleasure. He could feel a familiar tension already building in his loins and belly. The kind of tension that’d quickly erupt into his damned pussy milking a cock dry. Another silent gasp was forced out him as the bandit’s knot nearly slipped into him, stretching him the point that was struggling to breathe, but not quite popping in.

“Not yet, no, but soon. Gotta make sure I put every last drop in you. Don’t wanna have to fuck for a week after this,” the nightstalker grinned. His forked tongue lashed over Samael’s throat, tickling where he had sunk his fangs earlier. “Not a lot of boys with pretty pussies around.”

He didn’t say much more after that, instead letting his body do the work, adjusting his angle until each little thrust made Samael’s slippery, welcoming sex clench around him in appreciation, utterly mastering that part of the bat’s body with his cock grinding into spots that Sam didn’t even know he had. The kind of spots that would’ve made him squirm and thrash if he had any conscious control left; instead, he laid there limply, mind awash with pleasure until he almost wanted the coyote-rattlesnake to keep fucking him.

The bandit steadied himself on one elbow as he kept fucking Sam, and reached down with the other to rub his stiff little clit. That was the point where Sam could no longer fight back at all; just a few flicks of the bandit’s calloused finger over that aching, thrumming little pleasure-nub pushed him right to the edge of orgasm. In the heat of the moment, Sam didn’t even care that it hadn’t exactly been consensual to start with. Right now, he wanted it, and he wanted it badly; that roaring, white-hot ecstasy that was just a few thrusts and flicks away. He wanted the mutant to cum inside him, too. It was something that nobody had done before, and had he been able to choose, Sam probably would’ve chosen a different man to be the first to seed him. But he didn’t have a choice, and right now, it didn’t matter. The bandit’s cock just felt fantastic inside him, and he wanted all that it could give him.

Hell, he wanted more.

“Cum for me, will ya, bat?” the nightstalker grunted. Then, his fingers began to dance over his clit again, rubbing it firmly. “I want that sexy pussy of yours to milk my cock dry.”

Putting it like that made Sam want to resist again, but the time for resistance had ended quite a few strokes ago. Instead, the bandit forcibly pushed him over the edge and into that all-consuming climactic fire. It was strange cumming without being able to move a muscle; he knew that his back would probably have arched, maybe his toes would’ve curled, but instead he could only remain totally slack, and instead it felt like his body compensated by his cunt clenching hard around the bandit’s shaft, each clench also sending a surge of pleasure up Samael’s spine. And as he felt his “lover’s” cock throb inside him, it only intensified and sharpened his own release. Soon he was panting, trying to blink away the tears of joy from his eyes, and desperately wishing that he could at least squirm instead of feeling like he was outright drowning in pleasure.

“That’s it, good boy. Now let’s- nnfg- let’s finish what we started,” the nightstalker chuckle-groaned as he grinded his knot against Sam’s entrance again, pushing himself a little deeper each time his squeezing pussy relaxed, following the rhythm of the bat’s soaking wet orgasm.

Samael screwed his eyes shut, his eyelids being one of the few muscles he could still control, and focused on the sensation. Just as he did, the bandit’s knot finally popped inside him, drawing an approving growl from the nightstalker. He thrust a little deeper yet, making sure his knot was nice and stuck inside Sam’s body, and then he joined him in his orgasm.

The first splash of cum inside him was like pure ambrosia. Had he been able to, Samael would’ve been wailing with pleasure as the bandit seeded him, hissing and growling as he did so. Thick spurts of cum filled him quickly, tingling inside him with a thick, wet heat. While it was a little degrading, perhaps, it felt incredibly good. Far better than he had ever imagined that being filled could feel, some primal reaction spurred even further by his heat. It felt like eating when starving, like drinking when utterly parched, like a heavenly, floating satisfaction that seemed to utterly overpower everything else.

Gone were the anger and frustration, easily swept aside by those powerful waves of pleasure and a carnal satisfaction washing over him. A quiet little whimper spilled from Sam’s lips in spite of the paralysis as his body drank the bandit’s messy, virile bounty eagerly, every drop of it kept firmly inside him – where it belonged, some semi-conscious voice told him – with not even a trickle spilling out. Nor would it, not before the nightstalker eventually pulled out.

He came so, so much. Maybe he had been telling the truth about being utterly pent-up, or perhaps Sam’s pussy just felt that good, but he gave the heat-struck and fertile bat everything that he could muster.

And then, he stayed there, holding himself inside Samael’s pussy. While the nightstalker was certainly about to brag about what he had done, he noticed that Samael’s eyes were closed. His venom did that sometimes, especially when combined with a powerful orgasm. He didn’t quite have the heart to wake the bat up, as much as he would’ve liked to hear his reaction to getting properly fucked for what might’ve been the first time.

After all, the future father of his clutch had to get a good night’s rest to lay a healthy clutch.

As such, by the time his knot had finally deflated enough and that buzzing feeling that always followed a good rut had faded, the bandit carefully slipped his cock out, and then, after a moment’s thought, rolled up the bat’s bedroll a little, just enough to prop under his ass to keep his hips elevated. Too much leakage wouldn’t do anyone any good, after all, though he couldn’t deny that he felt rather proud of the little trickle of thick, white cum that managed to ooze out of the bat’s relaxed, stretched slit.

With that, he said a quiet goodbye, though he certainly intended to see his new “partner” again eventually. Carefully, he measured out just enough water that it’d last Sam for his journey back, and then took everything else, stuffing the bat’s supplies into his own pack. It was only fair, wasn’t it, given the gift he had just given him? Besides, he was a bandit, not some official of the long-defunct churches, or even a good Samaritan. His powerful seed was plenty of payment.

He disappeared into the barren wasteland after a few more moments of admiring his handiwork, and being rather orgasm-dazed himself, barely remembered to stuff his thick, if softening, cock back into his pants.

When Samael woke up, he didn’t immediately remember what had happened. By then, the venom had worn off, and surprisingly, he felt good. For almost a whole minute, he thought about the factory that he was about to loot. Surely, it was full of treasures, and today was a sunny day that’d make his exploration of if just about as easy as it’d get.

Then, as he sat up, he noticed that all of his food and water – bar for one solitary bottle – were missing, and memories of last night’s events crashed into him like a derailed train. It hadn’t been a dream, either. That was confirmed by the fact that his pants were still around his ankles, and the nightstalker’s cum remained sticky around his thighs and that damned pussy. The moment Sam stood up, he could feel a fresh trickle of it oozing down his leg.

Dammit all. At least we’re different species.

It wasn’t that it didn’t feel sexy in a perverted way. It was that he hated being taken advantage of, and despite the rather warm and fuzzy memory of just how hard he had cum around the damned bandit’s cock, Sam was angry. With no supplies – and a pussy full of cum hardly counted as supplies, no matter how much that idiot had tried to claim it was a totally fair trade – he had no choice but to head back home empty-handed. It was too risky to explore without food and water. The bandit had even stolen all his cola and Twinkles!

With a frustrated sigh, he began the several days long journey back. One foot in front of the other. The sticky feeling between his legs only added to the frustration at that point, knowing that the bandit’s cum was inside him and there was nothing he could really do about it. None of the water out here was safe to wash oneself with, and he couldn’t waste his drinking water either. And so, he had no choice but to walk all the way with a belly full of cum, and perhaps something more.

He didn’t suspect anything when he, when he laid down on the second day, felt a little nauseous. It wasn’t unusual to get nauseous out here, especially not after getting fucked by some irradiated mutant of a bandit. A few days of some R&R when he got back, along with a proper meal, would probably work wonders and leave him feeling good again. But gods, he was hungry by now, the nausea accompanied by a light sense of cramping in his stomach. At least the heat had finally ended, which made up for a little bit of that discomfort.

On the night of the third day, Samael finally arrived back at the settlement. The same old ramshackle fenced village where he’d lived for years now. The guards at the gate laughed at his sorry state, but by then, Sam only wanted to have a shower, a meal, and a long, long night of rest, and he proceeded to do so.

But those strange feelings wouldn’t let up. The moment he ate after sleeping, he found himself throwing up. And it didn’t get any better as the bat tried to relax for days on end, spending his limited money – he had counted on scoring big at the factory, which meant he’d have to try again soon – on food and water.

Then, after a little longer, he made a horrifying discovery. He felt heavy one day and decided to inspect himself to make sure he hadn’t caught anything bad from the bandit, and the moment his shirt came off, he realized that his belly was ever so slightly swollen. It was an immediately distressing thought. He couldn’t be pregnant, could he? He wasn’t compatible with either coyotes or rattlesnakes. So it had to be that he had just overeaten while trying to feel good, Sam told himself.

Unfortunately, his belly kept growing to the point that others would notice it too. Most people here didn’t know about his little secret, so thankfully, they simply assumed he was eating too much, but uncertainly kept gnawing at the bat’s thoughts until he finally relented and decided to get checked by the local doctor. And sitting there in the examination chair, he received the dreaded, unwelcome news.

“A nightstalker, eh? Can’t say I’ve had many encounters with them, but they’re mutants. So if you got filled up all proper-like by one of them, good chance you’re carrying their eggs now,” the old doctor chuckled.

“But I mean, I’m not- I’m a bat, not a-” Sam protested, only to get shushed by the doctor. He pulled out a pregnancy test.

“Their DNA is mutated enough to be compatible with most mammals and reptiles. So, if you’ll just humor me and take this test right quick, eh?” he explained, with an infuriatingly jolly demeanor. “Might be you’re eating for two, and we can’t rightfully let you wander around out there if you’re carrying a clutch.”

And sure enough, the test showed what he feared. He was pregnant, and that meant he was grounded. No wonder he had been feeling weird.

In dealing with that realization, Sam also found himself rather horny and hormonal over the next few weeks, dreading every day of watching his belly grow and grow until even the people who hadn’t known that he had a pussy could tell that he was undeniably pregnant, which was more than a little infuriating for the bat. Not just because rumors spread quickly about him willingly going out to get fucked by a dirty bandit, but equally because he wanted to go out and scavenge, not stay here like a pregnant… well, he supposed he was pregnant, and by now he was so horny that even masturbation didn’t help, with his mood all over the place.

Nothing much changed until a surprising visitor arrived, wearing a cloak and presenting himself as a simple traveler seeking refuge for the night. Not something Sam would’ve paid attention to, if not for the fact that the “wanderer” sniffed him out instantly.

“I was right,” he said, and Samael nearly jumped out of his skin, recognizing his voice. “You do look amazing with a belly full of my eggs.”

“Y-you fucking- it’s you, you’re that damn bandit!” Samael shot back, just about ready to throw hands. Now that it’d do him any good. He was strong enough normally, but it was hard to move quickly now with his belly so heavy. “How dare you do this to me?”

“Hey now, don’t act like you didn’t cum your brains out on my knot,” the nightstalker chuckled. “How about we let bygones be bygones? I’ll buy you dinner, show you a real good time. Really the least I can do if that orgasm wasn’t enough for ya.”

“What, you think some food will make everything good again?” Sam growled.

“Not just any food! Only the finest food for the father of my brood,” grinned the bandit. “Name’s Zig, by the way.”

Sam thought about it. On the one hand, the bandit had envenomed him and knocked him up against his will. That was definitely a mark against him. On the other hand, he had enjoyed it – though not willingly – and he was incredibly hungry, perhaps owing to how hard his body was working on forming the nightstalker’s eggs.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But if you try anything here, you’re going to be outmatched and outnumbered. I’m Sam.”

Zig feigned a mock bow. “Well, ya got me all wrong, Sam. The offer is genuine. If it ends with us taking the edge off together, it’ll be with your blessing. I can hardly go poisoning you with those eggs in you, can I?”

Sure enough, his offer was genuine, and by the end of the feast, Sam was so stuffed that he didn’t even care that it had all been bought with ill-gotten gains. It was the least the bandit could do, but still, the bat found himself warming up to the rowdy nightstalker. He certainly didn’t have much in the way of social graces, and his conceptualization of consent was rather iffy, but it was obvious that he at least cared about his offspring.

That, and afterwards, he gave the bat so many orgasms that he couldn’t even find the strength to get up once they were done. After all, he couldn’t get any more pregnant, and he did have a fantastic cock. That certainly took the edge off. If not the first rutting, then the third of the night certainly sealed the deal. Though Sam would’ve perhaps still preferred not being pregnant, there was a certain joy in how horny it made him, and the fact that once it had happened, he could have all the consequence-free sex that he wanted. At least, that’s what he thought at the end of their third round, with Zig’s knot inside him again and his cock pulsing lazily as his balls delivered yet another load of seed into his belly.

“I’ll come back once you’ve laid your clutch,” he told Sam. “Can’t rightfully stay here, can I?”

Perhaps he couldn’t. But while being alone and bored was even worse now, it only took a few more days for Sam to finally lay those damned eggs. Thankfully, it all came naturally, the hormones of a pregnancy activating the right parts of his mind, the deeply buried ones that knew he should lay on his back, spread his legs, and simply let things happen, pushing as much as he could each time an egg slipped from his womb to his pussy. It was easier than a live birth, certainly, and far more pleasurable, with each rough, leathery egg rubbing those same spots that the nightstalker’s cock had when it put them inside him.

By the halfway point Sam was moaning with each egg that he laid. The moment became almost like a ritual. First, a slight sting of pain as an egg pushed out of his womb to be laid. Then, shuddering pleasure as it made its way out of his pussy. Breathe. Push. Shiver with pleasure. Repeat. A sense of satisfaction as he finally laid the egg. Each time, the quivers of pleasure shooting through him made it hard to think at all, and towards the very end, Sam was rubbing his clit, timing the clenches with the pushes to do his duty.

He didn’t quite cum from it, but it was close – he was soaking wet by the end – and it was another little nudge for him to view pregnancy as something quite pleasurable and, though he was loathe to admit it, perhaps desirable. As the bat lay there in a heady daze, with his new clutch next to him, he played with the thought of letting the bandit knock him up again. Not yet of course. It’d be a while before he was in heat again, but it was still a seductive thought. Maybe he could even use his venom again, Sam thought, shuddering a little at the thought of being rendered utterly defenseless again. Maybe it was the excuse that he needed in order to enjoy being bred; not being able to stop it from happening meant that he didn’t need to feel guilty about being a pregnant man, after all. And then all those fantasies kept growing from there.

Zig returned only a few days after the eggs had been laid, once again wearing a hood that concealed most of his hybrid features, bar for the subtle scales around his snout and the slitted eyes that seemed to reflect light even more than a coyote’s would. And they went wide at the sight of half a dozen eggs.

“Must’ve been a lil’ bit more pent up than I thought,” he stated, sounding a little bashful for the first time since Samael had met him.

“Yeah, maybe next time you should ask first,” Sam shot back. It was easy to get frustrated with the cocky bandit, but at the same time, it felt equally impossible to stay angry at him, with his playful and charming, if crude, demeanor.

The nightstalker cocked an eyebrow, and then knelt next to Sam, pulling down his hood and touching each of the eggs gently. “I could,” he mused. “But where would the fun be in that?”

He then turned his attention to Samael again. “I s’pose you’re right though. In general. But I think for us, you’ll like it better if I don’t.”

The bandit lowered his half-reptilian snout towards Sam’s black-furred neck until the bat could feel his warm breath against the skin beneath his fur. Slowly, he bared his fangs, but this time, he didn’t bite. Not right away.

“But let’s have it your way,” he hissed. “I’ll ask. Do ya want me to bite you and then fuck you senseless ‘til you’re so full of cum that you’ll get knocked up and fat with my eggs the moment you go into heat next time?”

Maybe he wasn’t being literal. But Samael hadn’t taken care of his arousal after laying those eggs a few days ago, and now, the bandit’s offer made his fur stand on end. It wasn’t a choice he could make lightly, certainly. Not in a rational sense. But his warm, flushed pussy had no trouble whatsoever making it for him.

“Yes,” he hissed, and the bandit grinned a toothy grin before sinking his fangs into the bat’s neck once again.

By the time the nightstalker had roughly thrust that wonderful cock into his slippery sex – his body perfectly venom-bound and limp – Sam could only think about how he really should let his pussy do the thinking more often. Maybe getting knocked up wasn’t that bad, after all.

Not that he really had a choice at that moment anyway, and that was just how he liked it.