"But you understand what I need."
"I do." The truth of that statement creates uncomfortable stirrings in my chest. "And I'm going to help you discover just how fulfilling the right kind of service can be."
She leans into my presence like a flower turning toward sunlight. "What's the next step?"
"Tomorrow, we'll begin more intensive training," I tell her, my hands framing her face so she has to meet my eyes. "Deeper magical work that will require more... personal forms of submission."
"What kind of personal forms?"
"Physical service. Intimate obedience. Learning to find your satisfaction in mine rather than seeking your own pleasure first." I watch her pupils dilate at the implications. "It willrequire complete trust, Maya. Complete surrender to my guidance."
"I trust you," she breathes without hesitation. "Completely."
The absolute faith in her voice creates a twist of guilt I quickly suppress. She trusts me because I've carefully conditioned her to associate my presence with safety, approval, and relief from the chaotic sensations building in her untouched body.
"Good girl," I murmur, watching how the praise makes her entire body respond. "That trust will carry you through what's coming."
"What is coming?"
"The real work," I say simply. "Everything we've done so far has been preparation. Tomorrow, your true training begins."
After Maya leaves, I stay in the laboratory thinking about what I've seen. Her responses to submission training are better than anything I projected. She doesn't just follow instructions—she finds real pleasure in obedience itself. The praise I give her affects her more powerfully than any magical stimulus.
She's perfect for deep conditioning. Broken enough to be grateful for attention, smart enough to rationalize accepting increasingly personal forms of service, desperate enough to find identity through pleasing someone who values her.
And she's awakening faster than any previous omega I've worked with.
The pre-heat building in her virgin body will hit crisis levels within days. When that happens, she'll need relief only an alpha can provide. But instead of taking what I want immediately, I'll teach her to beg for it. I'll show her that her pleasure depends entirely on earning mine.
I palm my aching cock through my clothes, remembering the way she melted under my praise, how eagerly she accepted every instruction. The memory of her sweet scent, the way sheshivered when I breathed against her ear, makes my control snap.
I free my cock from my clothes, groaning at the relief as my prehensile shaft emerges fully. It moves restlessly, seeking heat and wetness that isn't there, curving and twisting with its own desperate intelligence.
I stroke myself roughly, letting the fantasy build. Her small hands trying to wrap around my inhuman anatomy, her virgin shock at my size. "It's so big," dream-Maya would whisper, eyes wide with fascination and fear. "I don't think I can..."
"You can," I'd growl against her throat. "You were made for this. Made to take my seed, to carry my children."
The image shifts—her belly swollen with my child, her virgin womb finally fulfilling its purpose. "Please," she'd beg, heavy with my heir, "breed me again. Fill me with another baby."
My fertility magic responds to the fantasy, making my cock leak precum that carries the power to ensure conception. Every drop is designed to make her fertile, to transform her human biology into something that can bear strong Fae offspring.
"Such a perfect little breeder," I'd whisper as I pump her full of my enhanced seed. "Going to give me so many children. Save my entire court with that sweet pussy."
The thought pushes me over the edge. I spill across my hand with a growl that makes the plants throughout the laboratory bloom explosively, their reproductive cycles triggered by my fertility magic. Flowers burst open, seeds scatter, vines heavy with fruit—all responding to the raw breeding power flowing from my climax.
When her heat finally breaks completely, she'll be so conditioned to seek my approval that claiming her will feel like salvation rather than conquest. She'll beg me to breed her, to fill her with the children that will save my dying court.
The botanical metaphors I used today weren't just educational tools—they were perfect mirrors of our actual relationship. She's the flower, beautiful and vulnerable, designed to attract the pollinator who gives her what she needs. I'm the force that will fertilize her, make her bloom in ways she never imagined.
But unlike simple biological exchanges, our dynamic will be permanent. Once I've claimed her properly, once the magical bonding is complete, she'll be bound to me in ways that make leaving impossible.
The memorial garden glitters beyond the windows, seven graves marking seven failures who couldn't adapt to what the transformation demanded.
Maya won't be the eighth failure. She's already halfway to complete submission without realizing it.
Soon, she'll understand that her greatest achievement isn't any research discovery, but becoming exactly what I need her to be.
Perfect. Obedient. Mine to breed.
