The scent of ale and roasted meat filled the air as I stepped into the inn, a dimly lit establishment that promised warm beds for the right price. A few wandering eyes flicked toward me, but I ignored them, moving straight to the counter.

  The innkeeper, an older man with graying hair, barely looked up as he wiped down the bar. “Rooms are five silver a night. No credit.”

  I pulled the pouch from my robe and let the coins clink onto the counter. “One night.”

  He scooped them up without question and handed me a key. “Second floor, st door on the right.”

  I nodded, taking the key and making my way upstairs. My grip tightened as another pulse rocked through me. This time, the warmth spread deeper, my womb pushing outward ever so slightly.

  I barely made it into the room before I shut the door behind me, locking it.

  A sharp breath left my lips as I turned to the bed, my hands moving to undo my robe. The fabric slipped from my shoulders, pooling around my feet. I stood there, cd only in my bikini, staring at the slight swell of my abdomen.

  I pced a hand over it, feeling the life inside shifting, forming.

  One hour. That’s all I had before the birth.

  I exhaled slowly and climbed onto the bed, letting my body sink into the mattress. I would rest. Wait.

  Because when the time came... I knew it wouldn’t be pain I felt.

  It would be pleasure.

  One hour has finally passed, I never thought I’d experience this but here I am. My stomach is already the size of a pregnant woman's belly, the time has come.

  My body trembled as another wave of pain rippled through me. I clenched the bedsheets with trembling hands. The feeling of my child crawling out from my womb was really painful, yet excessing, so much so that I revert back to my succubus form. My cws accidentally ripping through the fabric. My wings twitched, pressing against the wooden walls of this cramped, dimly lit inn room.

  I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as another contraction hit, sending heat and pressure surging through my core. It hurt. It hurt so much. But there was something else mixed into the pain, something dangerous. Pleasure. A sick, twisting sensation that made me shudder in confusion. I always know my body change pain into pleasure, but this pain, it could make me fall into addiction if I'm not careful

  I didn’t know what I was giving birth to.

  Would it be a monster? A demon? A mindless beast? I didn’t care. Whatever it was, it wasn’t my child. It was a weapon. A tool for my revenge.

  My tail coiled around my thigh, my breath ragged. I couldn’t stop it now. My body was at its limit. I arched my back as the final wave of agony crashed over me, forcing me to push. The sensation was overwhelming, something stretching and tearing as I screamed, voice muffled by the worn pillows beneath me.

  And then—release.

  Something wet and heavy slipped from my body onto the ruined sheets. For a moment, there was nothing but my own gasping breath, my vision blurred by sweat and exhaustion. Then, a noise—low, guttural, and wrong.

  I y sprawled across the bed, my body trembling, my breath ragged. Sweat clung to my skin, the heat of exhaustion wrapping around me like a heavy bnket. The air in the room was thick, heavy with the remnants of what had just happened.

  My hand drifted to my stomach. Empty.

  A strange sensation twisted inside me—not pain, not relief, but something deeper. Something I couldn’t name.

  Then, a sound.

  A soft, guttural noise, somewhere near my feet.

  I turned my head, my vision hazy, my mind sluggish. And there, nestled in the sheets, was… him.

  My child.

  He y there, his body slick with the remnants of birth, his emerald-green scales glistening under the dim light. Four strong legs. A lean torso. Two cwed hands that twitched slightly as he adjusted to existence. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his small, slit-pupiled eyes blinking up at me.

  For a long moment, I simply stared.

  I had expected something monstrous. Some mindless beast, something powerful yet hollow, just a weapon to be forged and discarded. But he wasn’t just that.

  "He was… small. Warm. Alive."

  I reached out before I could think better of it. My fingers ghosted over his head, down the ridges of his back. His skin was smooth, firm yet soft in pces. He let out a quiet, rumbling sound—not a growl, but something closer to a purr.

  I sucked in a breath. He’s… affectionate?

  Slowly, hesitantly, he pressed himself closer to my touch. As if I were safety. As if I were—

  I swallowed hard.

  "No."

  I shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a minion. A creation. A tool for revenge. He was supposed to grow strong, become a force that would one day tear that pig apart. That was why I did this. That was why I was here.

  But as I pulled him closer, feeling the steady rise and fall of his tiny chest, something inside me cracked.

  Could I really send him to fight? To die?

  My fingers curled around his small cwed hand. He nuzzled into me in response, his soft breaths steadying, his body rexed against mine.

  A bitter chuckle escaped me.

  "How cruel."

  I had spent so long consumed by rage, by hatred, by the singur goal of making that pig pay. But now, lying here with my child in my arms, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.

  Doubt.

  For now, I let it linger. Let it stay, just for a moment.

  Because revenge could wait.

  But he needed me now.