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"The Duke Special"

Selia lived for these nights. Movie night with the girls was the only tradition she’d managed to keep alive since the crash-landing of adulthood, and sometimes she wondered if it hadn’t saved her life a dozen times. When jobs ate their souls and exes slashed their hearts open and even the doctor’s words felt like claws in her gut, there was always girls’ night, the four of them, a gravity well of carbs and laughter, cuddled in a heap with their tails draped over each other’s knees. The way it used to be, before the world started narrowing in on their little pack like an ever-tightening vice.

This month, though, Selia had needed it like oxygen. She’d spent the week half-sick with anticipation, counting hours, then minutes, until the ritual could begin. She’d scrubbed every surface of her matchbox apartment, bought the snack foods in bulk, fluffed the couch pillows, and even brushed her fur until it gleamed, though she’d never admit it. She wasn’t expecting to get lucky, just desperate for any scrap of normalcy in a life that lately felt like a slow-motion car wreck.

She stalked the living room in restless loops, pretending to dust her precious, battered DVD collection. Once, these films had felt like sacred texts, each disc wrapped in memories sharp enough to draw blood. There was the one they watched after Riley’s first heartbreak (“Moulin Rouge,” extra tissues required), and the one that always made Kiera snort-laugh popcorn out her nose (“Hot Fuzz,” annual favorite), and the one they’d all agreed to hate just because it was Tasha’s favorite (“Bring It On,” a crime against cinema, per consensus). The covers were worn and sticky-edged from years of repetition, and handling them now made Selia’s chest ache with how much those years had meant to her.

Tonight, she’d stacked the lineup with precision: two comedies, one action, and, just for herself, a cheesy romcom to cap the night. She’d even put out real wine glasses instead of mugs. She needed the illusion of celebration, even if the occasion was just surviving long enough to see everyone together again.

She twisted her claws into the couch fabric, ignoring the way her pulse skittered under her fur. The doctor’s words rang in her head like a curse.

“You’re nearly out of time, Selia.”

Her OBGYN’s voice had been gentle, almost apologetic, but the information itself was merciless. Pandas short window, everyone knew that, but her window was now measured in months, maybe weeks. She’d nodded through the rest of the appointment, signed the forms, and then thrown herself into a cab to cry the whole way home.

It wasn’t fair, she thought, trailing her paw along the rim of her wine glass. She was only twenty-eight. She still got carded at the discount liquor store. She still bought cartoon bedsheets because the patterns made her smile. She had a decade of bad dates and even worse one-night stands and she’d barely even started to figure herself out. And yet, in one sterile afternoon, she’d been benched for good.

She stood in front of the mirror, studying her reflection with a critical eye. The curves were still there, her silhouette had always drawn attention, and she’d spent years learning to love it, but lately, it felt like the world only saw her as a womb with legs. She tugged at her neckline, exposing the heavy line of her bust, then yanked it back up with a grimace.

The doorbell rang, the sound slicing through the quiet like a thrown knife, and Selia’s heart snapped to high alert. She smoothed down her fur, tried to remember how to make her face look alive, double-checked the mirror for rogue mascara or toothpaste stains. Still busty, still beautiful, still her, only now every smooth curve felt like a dare against extinction. She squared her shoulders, bared her teeth in a can-do grin, and flung the door open.

Riley stood on the stoop, raccoon mask flawless and framed in a mop of artfully unkempt hair. She wore the same denim jacket Selia remembered from their senior year, patched in a tapestry of stolen logos and band names, the effect both tragic and somehow iconic. Her tail flicked behind her, all mischief and anticipation.

Selia’s arms went wide for a hug, but she froze mid-step. There was something unmistakable beneath Riley’s navy hoodie: not a subtle burger bump, not a slouch-induced potbelly, but a full, round pregnancy belly. Selia’s mental gears jammed.

Riley grinned, unzipping in one dramatic tug. “Surprise!” She spread her arms like a showgirl presenting a prize on a game show: a perfectly spherical bump, taut and proud, straining the fabric against her hips.

Selia’s eyebrows shot up. “Holy shit.”

Riley cackled, stepping in for the hug anyway. Her fur was warm and faintly citrus-scented, but Selia barely registered it through the shock.

“Is that what I think it is?” Selia managed, voice pitched somewhere between awe and horror.

Riley rocked back on her heels, hands propping the belly. “I mean, unless you think I’m smuggling a soccer ball under my shirt, yeah. Four months and change.” She jostled the bump as if demonstrating its authenticity.

A brief parade of mental images stampeded through Selia’s mind: sex ed videos, baby shower cupcakes, raccoon kits with Riley’s crooked grin. She couldn’t find a single one that made sense. “How? When? Who…”

Riley waggled a finger. “No spoilers. I want to see your face when you meet the others.”

Selia reeled, staring as her friend sashayed past her and made a beeline for the snack table. Riley’s pillaged all the best chips before Selia could even blink, already popping Cheetos with the same reckless abandon as always.

Selia hovered in the doorway a moment longer, the world’s tiniest existential crisis looping between her ears. She barely had time to breathe before the doorbell chimed again, softer this time, like someone afraid of breaking the glass.

She opened the door to find Maren, clutching a polka-dot gift bag to her chest like a shield. The deer’s sweater was comically oversized, trailing her wrists, but it couldn’t hide the gentle, unmistakable bulge pressing against the knit. Selia’s jaw slackened.

Maren bit her lip and lowered her gaze, pink blooming across her cheeks and up her ears. “Hey, Sels.”

Selia just stared. “You too!?”

Maren hunched her shoulders, whispering as if the words themselves might get her in trouble. “It just… happened.” She stepped inside, eyes darting everywhere but Selia’s face.

Riley, already established on the couch, snorted a laugh and sprayed a constellation of crumbs. “Two down, panda-girl. Are you feeling the peer pressure yet?” She gestured with a Cheeto at Maren’s belly, then at her own, grin unbreakable.

Selia snapped her mouth shut and forced a whiplash smile. “Did you all sign up for a group discount at the sperm bank or something? Jesus, Maren, you’re the responsible one.”

Maren blushed deeper, but Riley answered for her. “Oh, please. It’s always the quiet ones. You just never hear about the good stuff because she’s too busy being demure and perfect.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Maren, who shrank into the couch like she hoped the cushions would eat her.

Selia shut the door harder than she meant to, the thud reverberating through her teeth. The news from her doctor flashed in her mind: months, maybe weeks, like a digital countdown. Two friends already halfway there. She felt the urge to giggle, or maybe scream, but settled for a stiff, mechanical chuckle and poured herself a glass of wine she suddenly didn’t want.

“Is everyone just… pregnant now?” she blurted, already dreading the answer.

“Pretty much,” Riley said, already on her second bowl of chips. “Wait ‘til you see Kiera.”

“Kiera?” Selia coughed, nearly spilling her wine. “No way.”

“You’ll see.” Riley’s voice dripped with glee.

They didn’t have to wait long. The intercom buzzed, and Selia’s stomach twisted into a cartoon spiral. She hit the button, trying to keep her hand from trembling.

“Come up.”

In less than a minute, the elevator dinged, and Selia watched through her peephole as the final two arrived arm-in-arm, a study in contrasts. Tasha, the oldest and most unrepentant of their crew, wore head-to-toe black, a sheath dress that somehow made her curves look even more dramatic, slashed with silver jewelry and a lipstick so red it bordered on illegal. Her fur fell in artful waves, framing her face like she was about to seduce the mailman for sport.

Next to her, Kiera looked like she’d arrived straight from track practice: athletic leggings, tank top, windbreaker tied low on her hips. Her tail swished with disciplined energy, but her face, when she turned toward the door, was softer, almost vulnerable.

Selia opened the door, expecting another round of surprises, and she got them in double. Tasha led with her belly, which was less a bump than an event, a statement, a party sub in progress. Beside her, Kiera’s was subtler, but on her narrow frame, there was no mistaking it.

Selia’s mouth went dry. “Seriously? All of you?”

Tasha swept in with a predatory grin. “Don’t blame us if you’re suddenly behind the curve.”

Kiera dropped her gym bag by the door with a shrug. "Figured it was time to spill the beans, Sels. No point in hiding it anymore."

Riley cackled from her spot on the couch, bits of Cheeto dust flying. "Girl, you've been out of the loop for way too long."

Maren, nestled into a pillow, gave Selia a sympathetic smile. "We've got quite the story for you."

"No shit," Selia said, mustering a grin despite the knot in her gut. She felt a pang of guilt for having to fake her enthusiasm.

"Hold up, Tasha," Selia said, turning to the Cougar. "Didn't you always say you never wanted pups?"

Tasha waved a manicured paw dismissively. "Things change, honey. Sometimes life just happens when you least expect it." Her nonchalance made it seem like getting pregnant was as mundane as a bad hair day.

Maren piped up, "I guess I started the whole trend." She patted her bump, noticeably rounder than the others. "Once I got knocked up, these three decided to hop on the baby train with me." The way she said it, you'd think they'd all ordered the same entrée at brunch.

Riley chimed in, "We figured, why not raise our little mutts together? They can be besties, just like us." The raccoon grinned, clearly tickled by the idea.

Selia nearly choked on the word. "mutts? Wait, are you saying you all have the same...?"

"Baby daddy?" Maren finished, quirking a brow. Selia glanced around the room, taking in the conspiratorial smiles on her friends' faces. Bingo.

"How? What? I mean..." Selia sputtered, abandoning her cool composure and snatching up her glass, topping it off with a shaky pour from the bottle. It wasn’t like any of them would be drinking it anyway. "Someone better start talking about this mystery stud of yours."

The girls exchanged loaded looks, a silent conversation passing between them as if they'd rehearsed this moment.

Maren took the lead. "You know that new pizza joint by my work? Well, the owner is this wolf named Duke. He's not exactly a local boy."

Tasha snorted. "Understatement. More like he stepped straight out of a bodice-ripper romance novel."

"Or a porn mag centerfold," Riley quipped, sending the room into a fit of giggles.

"Tall, dark, and packing some serious heat," Kiera said with a sly grin. "I swear, that wolf could pound nails with his third leg."

Riley was halfway through demolishing the chip bowl when Kiera leaned back on the couch, arms folded, eyes sharp. “You know what’s funny?” she said, her voice low but carrying. “We’ve never actually talked about it.”

The room quieted. Tasha tilted her head, brows knitting. “Talked about what?”

Kiera smirked, tapping her belly with one blunt claw. “Duke.”

For a beat, there was silence. Then four sets of eyes, everyone but Selia, flicked around the circle, confused, cautious, like they were all realizing the same thing at once. They had each been carrying their stories in secret, never comparing notes, never daring to say the name out loud.

Selia’s stomach dropped. Her paw tightened on her wineglass, and before anyone spoke she took another swallow, just for the taste.

It was Maren, of all people, who finally broke the silence. She curled deeper into her sweater, voice soft as a sigh. “I… I guess I could go first.” Her eyes darted around the circle, then down to her lap. “I mean… if we’re really sharing.”

Riley let out a bark of laughter. “The doe’s breaking the seal! Yes, finally.”

Tasha leaned back with a sly grin. “Didn’t think you’d be the first one to fess up, Maren.”

Selia forced a laugh, though it came out thin. She raised her glass, the wine blurring the edges of her vision. “Alright,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Let’s hear it.”

Maren’s eyes flicked to her soda, then to her swollen midsection, as if some vestigial part of her still wanted to pour one out before launching into the most humiliating confession of her life. “I didn’t even see it coming,” she said, blinking rapidly. “I mean, we talked a little. He flirted, obviously, that’s just how he is, calling me ‘caramel’ and ‘little deer’ and all that.” Her hands fluttered, then stilled atop her bump, the gesture unconsciously protective. “I laughed it off. But he wouldn’t let it go. Even after my car died and I asked if he had jumper cables, he just…”

“Jumped your cable instead?” Riley interjected, mouth full of Funyuns.

Maren’s cheeks went violently pink. “He jumped more than that,” she whispered.

Kiera leaned in, clearly savoring the drama. “Pulled a full wolf on you, didn’t he?”

“It was animal,” Maren said, a little too quickly, her voice trembling like she was still lost in the memory. “He was standing so close, I could smell his cologne through the pizza grease. He just… he pushed me up against the hood. He kissed me before I could even think to stop him.”

Tasha whistled low. “Damn, girl.”

Selia, despite herself, felt a hot spark of envy. Not at the wolf specifically, but at the gravitational force of it, being wanted so much that no one waited for permission. “Then what?” she asked, maybe a little breathless.

Maren stared at her lap. “Then he lifted me onto the trunk and started eating me out. In the middle of the parking lot.” Her voice was a strangled hush. “Like, right there, under the streetlights. I tried to pinch my knees together but he just… he was so strong.”

Riley cackled, slapping the arm of the couch. “Maren! You always played the innocent, but we see you!”

The deer’s ears burned so scarlet they almost glowed. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she muttered, but the way she said it made it sound like she hadn’t tried very hard to resist.

Selia leaned against the table, finally letting herself relish the story. “So, what, he just went wild on you and you did nothing to stop it?”

Maren shuddered. “I did try to stop him, at first, but…” She trailed off, the silence so loaded you could have fired a gun in it.

Kiera picked it up. “But?”

“But I’d never felt anything like it. I started coming before I even realized. And then he just… he pulled my shorts down and bent me over the bumper. He didn’t even bother to pull his own pants off, just unzipped and…” Maren clamped a hand over her face in mortification.

Riley howled, actually howled, and choked on a Funyun. Tasha thumped her on the back, claws flashing.

“He just went for it?” Tasha said. “Not even a pretense of romance?”

“It was the opposite of romance,” Maren replied, every word true. “He fucked me like I was prey. He held my throat in one hand and my hips in the other. My tail got bent so far back I thought it would break. I couldn’t stop shaking even after he finished.” She paused. “Except he didn’t finish.”

Now it was Selia’s turn to blush, and she heard herself ask, “What do you mean?”

Maren’s voice barely carried. “He knotted me.”

There was a pause, followed by a collective “Ohhhh” from the other three.

“Wait, was it your first time with a canine?” Kiera asked, disbelief shading her tone.

Maren nodded, pressing her lips together. “I thought he was exaggerating when he told me.”

Riley leaned over, stage-whispering, “They always say it’ll be gentle. But it never is.”

Maren nodded, her expression equal parts mortified and smug. “It was the best thing I’ve ever felt. I couldn’t even think straight the whole time he was inside me. When he finally let go, I was so full it leaked everywhere.” She swallowed and wiped at her nose. “He pulled me onto his lap, right there in my hatchback, and we did it again. And again.”

Selia’s mind painted the absurd tableau: Maren and the wolf, tangled together in the cramped backseat, windows fogged, the car rocking on its shocks as if they were trying to atone for every shy year she’d spent wrapped in pastel cardigans.

Kiera feigned offense. “You told us you spent that night watching Netflix and catching up on emails.”

“I lied!” Maren wailed, but the note of pride couldn’t be missed. “I didn’t go home until dawn. I stayed there, in the lot, eating cold pizza and hoping nobody saw me drop wolf cum all over the lot.”

Riley looked ready to ascend into another dimension from laughter. Tasha wiped a dramatic tear from her eye. Selia just let the words settle over her, this strange, sticky pride. Not just that Maren had finally let herself get devoured, but that she had the guts to tell it.

Selia swirled what was left in her glass, the taste more sour now that she’d heard Maren’s secret out loud. The image of her shyest friend bent over a car bumper under the streetlights wouldn’t leave her head, and the envy that burned in her gut felt sharp enough to cut. She was happy for Maren, she told herself, proud even, but pride didn’t drown the sting of being left behind. Every confession seemed like another reminder of the clock she couldn’t turn back. She took a long swallow, just for the taste, and let the wine coat her tongue like armor.

The room still buzzed with laughter when Tasha stretched like a cat in the sun, flashing a grin that said she’d been waiting for this moment. “Cute story,” she purred, glancing at Kiera, who only raised a brow in return. “But I think ours tops it.”

Kiera leaned forward, cool and unbothered. “Yeah. Guess it’s our turn.”

Tasha’s eyes glittered, catching every shard of lamplight, and she grinned like a wolf about to break a house down. “It started with one of those storms that turns daylight into midnight,” she said, pitching her voice to hush the room. “You remember? The power went out around six.” She didn’t wait for confirmation, just purred on: “Kiera and I were bored out of our minds, trapped at her apartment with nothing but candlelight, a stack of board games, and our own twisted imaginations.”

Kiera’s smirk flickered, gone and resurfaced just as quickly. “Tash always had to up the stakes. Every game, every dare. So when the power died, she bet me I couldn’t go ten minutes without looking at my phone.”

“And Kiera hates to lose,” Tasha said. “So she hands it over. First thing I do? Order something truly obscene for delivery.”

Selia expected more, but Tasha let the room lean in. “Pizza?” Maren guessed. Riley snorted.

Tasha flexed her claws like she was popping bubble wrap. “I told them to send the hottest, hungriest guy on staff. The voice on the other end sounded bored, but thirty minutes later…” She snapped her jaws theatrically. “That’s when the night really started.”

Kiera took up the thread: “He was wearing a rain jacket, but it was so soaked it might as well have been painted onto his fur. Brown wolf, green eyes, stank of motorcycle and woodsmoke.”

“The pizza steamed, but he was hotter,” Tasha said, her purr thickening to a growl. “He seemed amused to find us two bitches stuck in the dark with nothing to do. When I offered him something warm to drink, he didn’t even pretend to say no.”

“He stood by the door at first,” Kiera said, her tongue tracing each word like it was a secret. “But Tasha doesn’t let prey get away that easy.”

Tasha’s tail flicked in wicked punctuation. “I dragged him down onto the rug, got his jacket off, towelled him dry. He had arms like a proper beast, and I wanted to see how he’d handle a little teasing.”

Selia caught the ripple of emotion that passed between Tasha and Kiera just then, not exactly heat but the memory of it, smoldering and shared. The wolf had left a mark, and not just the obvious one, and the way their eyes met told Selia they were both back on that mat, breathless all over again.

“So I pulled out Twister,” Tasha said, her smirk spreading. “We lit candles, spread the board across the floor, and I made him play. First it was innocent, left paw red, right foot yellow, but he leaned into me on every move, chest pressed against my back, his breath hot in my ear like he’d found a loophole in the rules. He cheated on purpose, grinding in whenever the spinner tightened us up, until I couldn’t tell if I was losing my balance or just giving in.”

Kiera’s voice slipped in, low and steady. “By the third round she was bent over me, the wolf pinning her down with nothing but the excuse of colored circles. His paw kept sliding higher, his hips pressing harder. The candles threw shadows over us like a stage, and I was stuck inches away, twisted under both of them, listening to her breath hitch every time he pushed.”

Tasha grinned at the memory, teeth sharp. “He didn’t stop when the game toppled. He made it part of the rules. By the time I hit the wall, he was already inside my shirt, and Kiera was still knotted up on the mat, folded under us with no way to wriggle free. That’s how he played, like the game never ended, only changed shape.”

Kiera took a breath. “He had hands everywhere. Didn’t matter that I was twisted beneath them, one paw pinned to green and my leg trembling on blue, with Tasha’s weight grinding down against my back. Every time he shifted her, I felt it too. He pressed me flat to the mat, made me watch while he took her apart. Tasha kept goading him, saying he wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t wild enough. He proved her wrong by sinking his teeth into her shoulder until she cried out so loud the candles flickered.”

Maren stared, lips parted, mesmerized. “Didn’t it hurt?” she whispered.

Tasha rolled her head side to side, unconvinced. “It was… more addictive than painful. He left a bite on my neck, right here, see?” She traced a hidden scar with a claw. “That was his way of saying I was his.”

There was a drawn-out pause, the kind that made you listen for the tick of a clock that wasn’t running. “I didn’t expect him to go after Kiera,” Tasha continued, voice lowering. “But the second I was out of breath, he turned and looked at her like she was dessert.”

Selia’s eyes jumped to Kiera, who met the gaze flat-on.

“He told me to get on my knees,” Kiera said, tone so dry it might have been a joke except for the ripple that shivered her tail. “I did it because I was curious, not because he was in charge. But… I liked the way it felt.”

“He took us both,” Tasha said, matter-of-fact. “Harder than I’d ever been fucked. He made me scream, then turned her inside out. By dawn, we’d ruined the couch, the carpet, half a dozen towels, and all the takeout menus in the pantry.”

Maren cackled, Riley looked like she might faint from oxygen deprivation, and Selia saw her own reflection in the window, cheeks red as her own blood.

“I don’t know if it was the storm or the fact that we let him use us like an experiment,” Tasha said. “But when he was done, I felt more alive than I had in years.”

Kiera, silent for a long time, finally said: “We woke up hours later, still tangled together, both of us leaking so much we couldn’t tell whose mess was whose.”

Selia thought of her own sterile, immaculate bedroom, the faint lavender sachets in the closet, her desperate little collection of vibrators lined up in a drawer. She looked at her friends, one after another, knocked-up and glowing, burning with the memory of surrender, and understood, with a pang that was half terror and half longing, what she’d been missing.

“Incredible,” she muttered, and meant it.

Riley flopped back on the cushions, still wheezing with laughter. “So you both just… accepted it?”

Tasha shrugged, the movement lush and dangerous. “Why not? It’s better than growing old alone.”

Kiera’s smile was sly and secret. “We don’t do anything halfway.”

Maren tucked herself deeper under her blanket, eyes shining. “It’s kind of beautiful.”

Tasha’s last words hung in the air like smoke, daring anyone to break the spell. Maren had both paws clamped over her mouth, eyes wide as saucers. Kiera smirked faintly, like she’d just dropped a sparring partner flat on the mat. Tasha stretched languidly, basking in the attention, her tail curling slow as a fuse.

Selia’s glass was empty again. She stared at the wine-stained rim, trying to pretend she hadn’t just felt her thighs clench at the thought of two of her friends tangled under a wolf in the dark. She envied the heat in their eyes, the unshakable pride in their voices. Compared to them, she felt small, sterile, like a shadow pressed flat against the wall. The laugh she forced out sounded wrong even to her own ears. “Guess storms bring out more than thunder, huh?”

The others chuckled, but it was Riley who broke the silence, leaning forward with a feral grin. “Cute. Really cute. But you bitches don’t even know.” She licked cheese dust from her fingers, eyes glittering with mischief. “My story makes yours look like foreplay.”

The raccoon wiped her hands theatrically on her jeans and balled them into fists atop her unabashedly pregnant belly. “Alright. You all went feral over Mister Uberwolf. But none of you actually hunted him. I did.”

Selia gawked. “Hunted?”

Riley’s teeth flashed in a wild grin. “You think a wolf like that is easy game? Sweethearts, I’m a raccoon. Bargain genetics, little paws, no intimidation factor. If a guy like Duke is fucking the hottest cougar and the meanest dobie in the pack, and he still wants a piece of me, I have to up my game. I stalked that bastard for weeks.”

She paused, soaking in the stunned silence, then cracked her neck like a prizefighter prepping for a main event. “He closes his pizza joint at 2 AM on weekends. Usually cycles home, solo, but sometimes he lingers in the alley to take the edge off, apron still on, paw stroking himself raw under the streetlight like he’s earning tips after hours. I’d creep behind the dumpsters, breath shallow, grinding my own fingers in time with his, daring myself not to moan every time his knot swelled in his grip. Watching him jack off like that, so close I could hear the slick, made me ache like a fever.”

“I watched, I waited, I wanted. I had to have it, if only for my sanity. So I started timing his shifts, trailing him after work, following him back to his place. One night I found myself crouched in a suspiciously well-worn bush, holding my breath while he stretched out on the fire escape, head tipped back, all that hunger spilling into the night air.”

Selia raised an eyebrow. “Well-worn bush?”

Riley smirked, shameless. “That bush reeked of cunt and desperation. Guess I wasn’t the only one using it for wolf-watching.”

The doe blushed, but didn’t look away.

“Anyway, I wait until he goes upstairs. Easy, right? Except he locks his window. So I gotta climb. I’borrow’ a garden hose off a stoop down the block, looped it around the gutter, and hauled my ass up six stories.

Kiera cut in, voice incredulous. “You could’ve died.”

Riley shrugged, proudly reckless. “I brought gloves.” She mimed scaling, tail flicking in laughter at herself. “By the time I get to his floor I can barely see straight. But I spot his bedroom window, cracked an inch, just enough for me to jimmy it. I slide in, land catlike on the carpet, and there he is. Shirtless, passed out, snoring like a chainsaw on bath salts.”

Selia couldn’t help herself. “You broke into his house?”

Riley stuck up a finger. “I broke into his bed. There’s a difference.”

Tasha laughed so hard she actually snorted.

“I crawl in next to him. He doesn’t even stir,” Riley continued, eyes shining. “So I do what any sensible woman does when she breaks into a sexy wolf’s den: I go straight for the meat.”

She let the double entendre settle, then pressed on, almost matter of fact. “At first I think he’s ignoring me, but then I realize he’s just that kind of sleeper. So I paw his sheath, slow and gentle, until that monster starts to show. And then I take it. All of it. Like it’s my last goddamn meal on Earth.”

Kiera grinned, almost approving. “Did he wake up?”

“Not until I got greedy,” Riley said, voice dropping to a purr. “I mean, at first it’s just my tongue, right? I’m careful, slow, not trying to scare him. But then I get on top. Pants off, his tip right there, and I can’t help myself. I line him up and just… slide home.”

Selia’s wineglass trembled in her hand.

“I’ve never felt anything like it,” Riley breathed. “I thought I’d break in half. But it hurt so good I didn’t want to stop. I rode him slow, then faster, until I felt his knot start to swell.” Her fingers drew the shape in the air, round and rude. “When I forced it, it popped like a cork. That’s when he woke up.”

Tasha wheezed. “His first words?”

“‘Are you shitting me?’ Second words were, ‘Don’t stop.’” The raccoon’s laugh turned soft, almost fond. “He pulled my hips down and pinned me there. I thought I was going to die, honestly, or at least walk funny for a week. But he just held me so deep I couldn’t breathe, and then he came so much I swear I heard it slosh.”

Maren’s mouth fell open in awe. She didn’t even try to cover it.

Riley’s gaze moved around the circle, brash but clear. “He fucked me for hours. Every position, every surface in the apartment. We topped off in the shower, where I nearly drowned, but at least my fur got clean.”

There was a beat of stunned admiration. Even Kiera, lean and stoic, watched her with new respect.

“He tried to ask me my name after,” Riley cackled, “but my jaw was locked and my ass had gone numb, so it came out like a dying pigeon. He still called me the next night, though. And every night after.” She stroked her belly, softer now. “I told him about the babies as soon as I knew. He didn’t even blink. Said he was ready to start a pack. Bought two more pizza ovens. He wants to feed them all.”

No one spoke for a while, the gravity of that image settling over the four of them. Selia swayed where she sat, dizzy from both the wine and the honest, animal desire now throbbing in her chest.

Kiera looked at Riley’s belly, her own hand unconsciously straying to her own. “You ever think about… what comes after?” she asked, and for the first time, there was an edge of something like fear in her voice.

Riley nodded, candid. “Every damn day. But I also think about the look on his face when he finds out he’s got more than one to raise.” She bared her teeth, fierce and maternal. “He’s going to regret knighting himself the alpha, I’ll tell you that.”

Tasha purred, “You could start a daycare. Or a cult.”

Maren smiled, small but certain. “Or a family.”

The word hung in the air. Selia stared at her friends, the only people who ever made her feel fully alive, and saw herself reflected in the warmth of their hope. The stories they told were raw and ridiculous, but beneath every punchline was the desperate, defiant will to keep living, to keep loving, even as the window closed.

Selia tilted her glass to the light, letting the dregs catch and glow, then drew a deep, shaky breath. “So… is it too late to get in on this action?”

The laughter that followed was loud, but Selia’s pulse was louder, drumming in her ears, betraying how much she meant it.

Riley checked her phone with a mischievous grin. “Get ready, Selia. The pizza guy’s about to make a special delivery, if you know what I mean.”

Selia nearly spit out her wine. “Excuse me? You didn’t…”

“Oh, I did.” Riley wiggled her eyebrows. “Come on, don’t pretend you’re not dying to unwrap that package.”

“I… I can’t just let some delivery guy knock me up!” Selia protested, even as the wine blurred her resolve.

Maren piped up, gentle but firm. “Sweetie, Duke is far from random. He’s… conveniently equipped to help with your little predicament.”

Selia set down her glass and grabbed a water bottle, glancing around at her friends’ eager faces. They wanted her to join their wild journey into motherhood. “I talked to my doctor, and…” She trailed off, the words sticking in her throat.

Tasha pulled the panda into a fierce hug, her cougar strength both comforting and terrifying. “Honey, I’m older and wiser than you, remember? I got the same talk. But trust me, Duke is a good man. And his genes are potent as fuck. If it helps, think of this as less of a booty call and more of a… donation.”

“Yeah, a donation delivered by a footlong applicator!” Riley crowed.

The room dissolved into raucous laughter. Selia’s wine-soaked brain churned, trying to process the insanity of it all. Finally, she nodded slowly. Maybe this crazy plan wasn’t the worst idea.

“Ah, what the hell. I’m in,” she declared.

Tasha raised her soda in a toast. “Here’s to the future, and the little monsters we’ll unleash upon it!”

They all raised their glasses. Selia took the sip, thoughts spinning with the implications of what she’d agreed to. “Wait,” she said, setting her glass down hard. “You guys are staying? Don’t you have homes to go to?”

“No way!” they shouted in unison.

Selia blanched. The cougar grinned. “We’re here to cheer you on, girl!”

The others nodded, tails flicking with excitement. Selia felt a flicker of courage, steeling herself to kick them out so she could get this over with in relative privacy.

But before she could open her mouth, a sharp knock rattled the door. The room fell silent, four pairs of eyes fixing on her with breathless anticipation. Her pulse was louder than the knock. This was really happening.

Selia clapped her hands at the others, her voice a conspiratorial whisper-shout that barely restrained her bubbling laughter. “Hide. All of you. Now.” Her grin was wide, lopsided, and tinged by the wine she’d been sipping all night, a grin that promised chaos and mischief in equal measure.

For a moment, the room froze as the group exchanged glances, Then, like startled deer caught in headlights, they scattered in every direction with a flurry of movement that was more panic than precision.

Maren dove under the dining table, her knees knocking against one of the chairs with a muffled curse as she tried to fit her lanky frame into the cramped space. She pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and dread.

Riley, quick on her feet despite the haze of arousal clouding her senses, spotted the closet and lunged for it. She twisted the doorknob with fumbling urgency and wedged herself inside, her shoulder knocking against a stack of shoeboxes that teetered ominously before settling back into place. “Shh,” she hissed to no one in particular, as if her presence wasn’t already obvious.

Kiera, ever the limber one of the bunch, folded herself behind the couch with an almost acrobatic ease. She crouched low, her breath coming out in quiet bursts as she peeked over the backrest like a child playing hide-and-seek.

And then there was Tasha, dramatic Tasha, who seized the curtains with a flourish and slid behind them as if she were performing onstage. The heavy fabric swished closed around her, though her sequined dress glittered faintly through the gap. “I’m invisible,” she whispered loudly, earning a muffled snort from Riley.

Selia, meanwhile, wobbled toward the door with all the grace of someone who believed they were walking perfectly fine but whose steps betrayed them with every sway. Her bare feet padded softly across the hardwood floor, her balance precarious but her determination unwavering. “Just a moment!” she called out, her voice lilting with forced cheerfulness as she adjusted her stride.

She paused just shy of the threshold, her breath hitching as a sudden thought struck her, a thought both bold and reckless, fueled by liquid courage and a mischievous spark that had been simmering all evening. Her fingers hooked under the waistband of her panties, and with one quick motion, she peeled them down. The fabric clung damply to her thighs for a heartbeat before surrendering to gravity and landing in a sodden little heap at her feet. She nudged them aside with her toe, her cheeks burning hot as she glanced back at herself in the mirror hanging by the door.

The reflection staring back at her was disheveled but undeniably alive. Her hair was tousled from hours of laughter and movement, strands falling loose from their pins to frame her flushed face. Her eyes shone too bright, a reckless spark of anticipation that made her stomach flutter. She tugged at the neckline of her dress until it dipped lower across her collarbone, exposing just enough cleavage to hint at invitation without giving everything away.

Good enough, she decided with a nod to herself, though her pulse thundered in disagreement.

The knock came again, firm but patient, and Selia inhaled sharply before twisting the knob and pulling the door open.

Standing on the other side was Duke, and he was both more and less than she had imagined in those idle moments when curiosity had gotten the better of her. He wasn’t towering or statuesque like some romance novel cover model; instead, he was stocky and solid, built like an immovable force rather than an unreachable ideal. His fur carried an earthy scent, a loamy tang of forest soil mingled with something darker, muskier, a scent so raw and male it bypassed logic entirely and hit Selia somewhere deep in her gut.

His jade-green eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made every inch of her skin tingle. They didn’t blink or waver; they simply held hers captive in a silent challenge that sent heat rushing to her cheeks.

In one paw, he held up a grease-stained box that bore the unmistakable logo of Big D’s Pizza. His voice rumbled low in his chest as he spoke, each word dripping with casual confidence. “Big D’s Pizza. We’ve got the meats.”

Selia’s brain stalled for half a second, then a laugh slipped out, not nervous this time, but sharp and flirty. “I bet you do.”

Her fingers dove into her purse, searching for cash until they closed around a crisp hundred-dollar bill. She pulled it free and held it up between two fingers like an offering. “Do you have change for a large bill?”

Duke tilted his head slightly as if considering it before patting his pockets with an exaggerated slowness that felt deliberate, teasing even. His voice dropped another octave as he drawled lazily, “Can’t break a hundo.”

Selia shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “No worries,” she replied breezily, though there was nothing breezy about the way she let the purse slip from her grasp and tumble behind her. She pivoted, bending low to scoop it up, lingering just long enough to make sure Duke had a full view of her ass beneath the hem of her dress. The draft kissed bare fur in places that hadn’t felt air all night, and her tail gave a slow, deliberate sway as punctuation. When she straightened again, purse in hand, Duke’s eyes were still locked on her face, but she didn’t miss the hunger sparking beneath.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked sweetly, or at least tried to sound sweet, but even to her own ears there was no mistaking the invitation layered beneath those words.

A beat passed where neither moved nor spoke, then Duke stepped forward just enough for his shadow to spill over hers like an eclipse.

“I’d love to come inside,” he said finally.

The double entendre hung between them like static electricity waiting for release.

Selia laughed again, louder this time, because how could she not? It was ridiculous and cheesy and so over-the-top it bordered on parody… yet here they were, two strangers standing inches apart in this absurd little moment that felt charged enough to ignite something combustible.

The door clicked shut behind him with an ominous finality that sent shivers racing down Selia’s spine, not from fear but from anticipation so sharp it left no room for anything else. Before she could process what was happening, or maybe because she didn’t want to, Duke pressed her back against the door, his heavy hands settling on her shoulders with surprising gentleness given their size.

His touch drifted lower, pausing at her collarbones as if weighing the worth of every inch of her body. His pads were rough, callused, better suited for kneading dough than kneading her, but the warmth radiating through her fur had little to do with physical temperature.

He leaned in closer, chest flattening her against the molding of the door until the fake woodgrain dug grooves into her back. She half-expected splinters. Instead, the only thing sharp enough to wound her was the gasp that escaped when his paws grazed the swell of her breasts, thumbs hooking under the neckline until fabric gave way, nipples bared and already stiff against the darker pelt beneath.

He flicked one, testing, teasing, and she managed a sound that was half giggle, half whine. “You always this forward?” she muttered, ashamed only by how much she wanted him to skip the small talk and get on with breaking her in.

Duke’s breath rustled her ear, cool as spring water. “You always this receptive?” He dropped the pizza box carelessly to the floor; the lid sprang open, and a slice slid out onto the mat with a wet slap. Neither of them noticed.

He spun her by the shoulders and pinned her against the entryway wall, the plaster cold and unforgiving. The move was abrupt, but not cruel, and Selia’s body lit up in response, the shock flooding her with a heat that threatened to melt the bones out of her. His knee forced her thighs apart, gentle in the way a landslide is gentle, and she ground down on him, her inner thighs slick and her dress already halfway to her waist.

“So does the pretty panda have a name?” he murmured, nuzzling the curve where her neck met her jaw, his tongue flicking out in lazy, possessive laps.

“Selia,” she choked, hating how easily she crumbled for him, how ready she was to be devoured.

He grinned into her fur, inhaling deep. “Such a pretty name.” His paws slid up beneath her dress. When his fingertips met the bare, velvet-slick flesh beneath, he made a low, appreciative sound that vibrated through both of them. “No panties?”

Selia shook her head, sharp and defiant. “Laundry day,” she lied, then stifled a squeal as his thumb found her clit and circled, almost absentmindedly, like he was jotting down a grocery list on her body.

“Tell me, Sel,” Duke rumbled, voice dropping into her bones. “What can this wolf do for you tonight?”

She wanted to say nothing, to say everything, to say she wasn’t desperate and didn’t need him and could get herself off just fine if he would just leave her alone. But all those words got jammed behind one raw truth, bright red and pulsing at the tip of her tongue. “Babies,” she moaned, cheeks burning molten. “I want babies. I want…” She gasped as he pressed harder, forcing her up onto her toes, her calves straining, the wall suddenly the only thing keeping her upright. “…lots and lots.”

There was a brief pause. She felt his nose twitch, sniffing, cataloguing every hormone her body was spitting out. “There’s been a lot of that lately,” he said, his tone a mix of dry amusement and hunger. His eyes wandered for a moment, landing on a picture frame on the side table, her and her friends at last year's wine tasting, all flushed cheeks and tangled arms. “Oh, I see,” he said, recognition dawning. “You’re one of Tasha’s firends.”

Selia’s vision blurred, whether from embarrassment or arousal she couldn’t tell anymore. “Yeah, we just finished up movie night,” she hissed, the words breathier than she intended. His palm cupped her mound, fingers spreading possessively, the other hand kneading her breast, and she realized with a jolt that he was methodical. Like this was the only job in the world. Like he had done this before. Like he knew exactly what she needed.

“Shame I missed them,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “I’d have loved to put on a show.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll find out soon enough,” she shot back, forcing the words past a whimper. She tipped her chin up, eyes burning with challenge. “But I don’t want stories. I don’t want promises. I want proof you can do to me what you did to them. Fill me up so full there’s no chance I walk away empty.”

Duke’s grin sharpened. He did not waste another word. He dropped to his knees, broad head level with her belly, and yanked her hips forward. The force nearly tipped her over, but he pinned her in place with one arm and pulled her legs over his shoulders as if she weighed nothing. His tongue parted her, flat and hot, and he never once broke eye contact as he dug deep, lapping at her with a slow, simmering focus that made her fists pound the wall behind her.

Selia’s knees buckled, but Duke’s hold was absolute; he ate her out like he was starving, every swirl of his tongue deliberate, relentless. She felt herself pulse and clench, felt the room spin, heard nothing but her own voice saying, “Please, please, don’t stop,” in a tone that left no room for dignity.

When she came, it was as if her body was desperate to wring every drop from his mouth, and he didn’t let up, not even after the first wave left her dizzy. He just kept going, pulling more from her, drinking her down until the edge of her vision fuzzed out and her shouts turned into high, breathless whimpers.

Only then did he let her slide to the ground, her back pressed flat to the wall as she slumped down the length of it, legs boneless. Duke wiped his mouth with the back of his paw and shrugged off his work shirt, tossing it onto the pizza box.

He didn’t ask for permission. He just gathered her up, her thighs hooked over his arms and her head lolling, vision laced with afterglow static and the knowledge that this was happening, here, now, in her own fragile apartment.

Duke didn’t set her down right away. The scaled weight of her, lush hips, pillowy thighs, and the raw inertia of her aftershocks, seemed to spark a stubborn, primitive glee in him. He stalked into the center of the living room with Selia bouncing lightly against his chest, her arms locked behind his neck, vision swimming. She felt him inhale, sharp and predatory, as if taking a personal census of every scent in the apartment: the latent ozone of melted cheese, the sweet, floral cling of her own body spray, and beneath it, the raw, throbbing tang of her readiness. For a dizzy second, Selia swore he was savoring the ghost-traces of every female who had ever been in this room.

He stalked toward the battered espresso-stained coffee table, the one from her old dorm, the one she’d always meant to replace but never did. Its scarred wood and sagging legs looked tragic under the lamp, yet to Duke it must have seemed like a throne. He set her down with her hips perched on the edge, the length of her back stretched across the surface, her ankles dangling into open air. His tail swept in a perfect arc, sending the half-eaten snacks, stemless wine glasses, and all four TV remotes tumbling elegantly to the carpet. The sweep was so practiced, so effortless, that Selia wanted to applaud. Instead, she found herself breathless, ankles now dangling off either side, knees propped open and quivering with the memory of his tongue.

Duke loomed over, one paw planted on either side of her head, shoulders flexed. “Is this what you want?” he asked, though his animal confidence made the question rhetorical. Fur on his chest was thick and dark as coffee grounds, but a single swirl of cream traced from his clavicle to between his pectorals, drawing her gaze as surely as gravity.

Selia tried to say a pithy yes, please, or something with dignity, but what came out was, “God, yes, please…” and then he was on her again, one paw slipping between her thighs and parting them even wider, his lips and teeth painting every inch of her collarbone.

She felt him, all of him, through the fabric of his jeans, a ridged outline that made her clutch at his arms just to stay anchored. He played her with one paw while the other wrestled his fly open, the zipper splitting so loud it might have woken the neighbors. She craned to look and saw the rumor was true: Duke’s cock was less an accessory than a challenge, a primal dare painted in crimson velvet. It slapped against her thigh, burning hot, the knot at the base already half-engorged, swollen with the promise of what was to come.

He hiked her dress over her hips in a single motion, then guided himself to her entrance. The tip of his cock was already slick, and when he pressed in, it parted her with a resistance that almost hurt. Selia’s hands fisted the edge of the table; she clung to it like driftwood in a flood.

“More,” she gasped, pathetically, and Duke obliged, shoving half his length into her with a wet, greedy sound. He grinned, teeth bared, then ground his hips in a circle, seating himself deeper.

Her vision crackled like old film. She’d never been so full, never felt heat radiate in every direction at once. Duke rocked into her, building a punishing, perfect rhythm that sent the table legs creaking under the force. He didn’t pause, didn’t falter, his whole body locked in on the mission like he’d been engineered for this exact moment.

“Tell me,” he growled, cadence never slowing, “tell me what you’re gonna do with this brood I give you.”

Selia could only choke out, “Anything. I’ll raise them all. I’ll… fuck, I’ll pop them out until you say stop.”

Duke’s tail lashed, the tip coiling around her calf in a way she’d never imagined could feel so intimate. He braced one paw behind her head, cradling it with a shocking tenderness even as his hips hammered into her. The table began to shift across the floor with each stroke, rubber footpads screaming protest, but Selia didn’t dare care if it scraped the paint clean from the walls.

“I want you to beg,” he said, voice like breaking bone, thrusting hard on the word.

“Please, Please, don’t stop, don’t you fucking dare.” He bottomed out, knot beginning to catch at the lip of her, and she felt the bloom of panic, pleasure, and wild need all at once.

He grinned in triumph, grinding in tighter with each stroke, the knot swelling impossibly until she knew it would never fit. “You ready?” he grunted.

“Yes, yes.” Selia’s own voice startled her, throat raw from want and wine, but the words came out so open-throated and needy that she nearly flinched from the sound of herself. Duke, impaled between her thighs, barely acknowledged the plea before withdrawing, slow and deliberate, until only the burning, swollen tip of his cock gripped the entrance to her cunt.

He held there for an eternity, at least a half second, maybe one whole breath, letting her body clench and whine with denial, letting the ache of emptiness wrack her core. He grinned, white teeth flashing against a muzzle gone dark with her musk, and then slammed forward again, burying himself until his knot battered the lips of her pussy and spread them wide with a brutal, airless pop. The table shuddered, echoing a splintery “crack” that ricocheted up Selia’s spine, but she barely registered the sound; the whole universe had funneled to the sensation of being split open by this fuck-drunk wolf.

Duke’s pace was ruthless. He pistoned in and out, each stroke a little deeper, a little more possessive, until Selia’s feet left the ground and her back began to arch off the groaning table. She clawed at his shoulders, claws nicking his fur, and found herself babbling, yes, yes, please, don’t stop, each word less a request than a prayer to any god willing to give her more.

She’d always liked it hard, liked the loss of control, but this was something else. This was the mythic, bare-fanged hunger of a wolf who’d been bred to rut. The knot, every time it slammed her, left a fresh ring of bruised heat inside her, and she could feel each pulse, each desperate stretch, with a clarity that bordered on pain. She wanted it, needed it, and Duke seemed to know: with every thrust, the pressure built, until Selia felt herself open in ways she didn’t know were possible, until her brain shorted out and her voice dissolved into a howl.

The coffee table, never meant for this kind of abuse, began to buckle audibly under their combined weight. Duke’s body was all tension and heat, his abs flexing, arms locked around her waist, pinning her in place for the relentless assault. Selia barely noticed the wreckage of her dress, seams tearing with every thrust, the neckline yanked so low her breasts spilled free while the hem had been shoved so high it clung uselessly above her hips. The fabric cinched around her middle like a candy wrapper twisted tight, the top peeled down and the bottom forced up until all that remained was a band of ruined cloth biting into her waist. She was exposed from chest to thigh, a trembling prize unwrapped for him alone, her musk filling the room in a dizzy perfume of heat and surrender.

Then, all at once, Duke wrenched her forward, slamming her down hard. The table legs gave way with a sound like shrapnel, all four splintering in different directions, and the impact drove his cock in to the hilt, the knot finally forcing its way past her last resistance and locking them together with a jarring, final pop. Selia screamed, part triumph, part surrender, part sheer animal ecstasy, as the wave of sensation crashed over her. It felt like her whole pelvis might snap under the pressure, but it didn’t; it just clenched and milked the wolf for everything he had.

Duke howled, low and hoarse, and bit down, not drawing blood, just a warning, a signature, on the scruff of her shoulder. Instantly, she felt it: the first hot pulse as his cock jerked inside her, and the next, and the next, each one pumping her full of thick, unstoppable cum. Her belly swelled with the pressure, and she looked down in wild disbelief as she saw the outline of the wolf’s cock bulging against her lower abdomen, the knot throbbing and locked so tightly she knew there would be no walking away from this for a while.

For a breathless moment, the only sounds were panting, gasping aftershocks, and the dizzy haze of being thoroughly ravaged. Selia's head lolled, mouth slack as she tried to catch her breath, savoring the heat, the fullness, the knowledge that she'd been claimed by the best. As her body trembled with little aftershudders, a stifled, high-pitched whimper reached her ears from somewhere in the room - not her own, and not Duke's.

The room fell silent, save for ragged breathing. Then a moan spilled from the closet as Riley tumbled out, panties drenched between her legs, a sheepish "Oops, busted" grin on her face.

Selia watched Duke's expression shift from surprise to smug satisfaction, as if his keen nose had already sniffed out the truth. "I knew it," he rumbled. "If you're here, the rest of the pack must be close by."

On cue, the others emerged from their hiding spots - Tasha slinking from behind the curtains, Kiera unfolding gracefully from behind the couch, Maren crawling out from under the table. "Guilty as charged," Tasha purred, completely unabashed. "We couldn't miss cheering on our girl's big moment."

"Damn straight," Riley chimed in with a wicked grin. "Watching our bestie get knocked up? Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Duke threw his head back and laughed, a deep, throaty sound. "Well then, buckle up, ladies. Once I'm done pumping a few more loads into my panda princess here, you're all next in line."

The girls watched in awe, tails swishing with excitement, as Duke, still locked deep inside Selia, scooped her up and carried her to the couch. With a triumphant growl, he resumed rutting into her, fucking her with renewed vigor as if he hadn't just filled her to the brim moments ago.

Selia could only moan and shudder as Duke claimed her again and again, officially inducting her into his growing pack of bred females. At last, she was joining her friends on the journey of motherhood, and she'd never felt so deliciously alive.

---

Epilogue

Selia ran her palm across the curve, feeling the tautness of her fur stretched over the half dozen impossibly writhing, hiccuping bundles inside. The first time she had felt them spasming together, she had panicked, convinced they were fighting over some shrinking patch of real estate.

Now it felt like a six piece percussion band in there, each splayed paw another drumbeat on the inside of her ribcage. She found herself grinning at the mirror, unrepentant. Ghosts of old anxieties, what if I’m broken, what if it never happens, what if I just dry up and get old alone, couldn’t get a claw in anymore. Not with her body this gloriously, riotously transformed. Her nightshirt had given up the fight somewhere around trimester two; now she wore only boxers and a oversized Big D’s pizza tee she had pilfered from Duke’s laundry basket.

Her phone vibrated on the counter. She thumbed up the message, careful not to drop it into the sink.

Duke: [got ur ellio’s. eta 10. got ur weird ice cream too, babe]

Followed by an impossible string of wolf emojis, then a final text: [hey, don’t let the girls eat all the wings this time].

“You can try prying food away from a pack of pregnant bitches,” Selia muttered, “but you will lose, sir.” She set the phone down and ate a glob of peanut butter straight from the jar, feeling the twins on the left side go simultaneously ballistic in protest. There was no room for airs anymore, only hunger.

The apartment itself bore the weathering of weeks of saturation and neglect. The couch was layered in blankets and plates; the kitchen counters were an archaeology dig of takeout and odd cravings (jar pickles, banana peppers, twelve different butters). She didn’t recognize the neat, pre-motherhood panda who had once lived here, the one so worried about appearances, about being “enough,” enough woman, enough friend, enough of a successful science experiment. That Selia had always hidden her nerves under jokes and second-hand stories, never once wanting to risk more than she could afford to lose.

Now she wandered the halls, trailing her paws against the things she wanted her kits to know, even if they never remembered them. The shelf with Riley’s mismatched mugs, the window stickers Maren had pressed up one night in a fit of nostalgia, even the faint gouges where Maren’s hoof had nearly punctured the drywall after a particularly aggressive round of VR bowling. Her home was crowded and loud and thoroughly loved, and she would have fought a bear for the right to keep it that way forever.

The door intercom buzzed. Selia shuffled over, legs wobbly, and glanced through the peephole. Duke stood there, one paw balancing a pizza box stack as tall as his head, the other cradling a neon pink shopping bag. He laughed at her fish eye stare, then gave the lens a full, theatrical lick.

She buzzed him up.

He marched in without knocking, setting the pizza down and immediately gathering Selia up in his arms, just like he had done after every checkup, every bad mood, every moment she had nearly lost her nerve. When he pressed his nose to her flank, the humid wolf breath made an ache spark low and steady between her thighs. He had that effect even now, especially now.

This, she thought, as he grinned and tapped the boxes with the swagger of a man who had gotten exactly what he had wished for. He had never outright said it, but Duke loved the chaos, loved the tribe he had built. He would spend whole evenings just mapping the splay of his hand over her belly, humming under his breath, like the whole world started and ended in her expansion.

The girls all straggled in by nine. Riley arrived first, balancing her own bump and a bowl of something called “hotter cheetos,” which had left her hands permanently radioactive orange. Maren and Tasha bickered about movie picks before finally collapsing together on the couch, legs tangled, bellies pressed side by side like a pair of overripe plums. Kiera brought the master list of baby names, each more ridiculous than the last: Bustin, Torpedo, Science Experiment #3, and, eventually, Little Duke Jr. by group vote, to Duke’s faux audible groan.

Selia watched it all, letting herself laugh so hard her hips ached. Every time she glanced at Duke, he seemed to catch her at it, the look back saying: I told you, babe, you were made for this. And Selia, panda once so sure she was running out of time, knew now she was built for it, this mess, this monstrous, beautiful family, all their stories howling together as one.

She patted her belly and leaned in for another slice, licking the grease from her fingers one at a time.