Chapter Text
“Caleb? What are you doing?” Your arms stirred slightly above your head, nipples hard in the night air.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” he half-whispered, draping a soaked cloth over your airways to help the process along.
You stopped interrupting soon enough, wrists relaxing where the rope tied them together.
You were so pretty lying in bed, on your back, all alone where no one could see.
Pajama shirt you were getting too big for bunched up above your breasts, where Caleb had pushed it aside for his own observations.
He kept a tactical notebook on his inner breast pocket, one that was small enough to fit anywhere, with paper that wouldn't ever let the writing smudge, not even in the rain.
He knew what each and every number meant. Recorded another string of measurements in it tonight, tracking your growth.
He'd put the data to good use someday. Maybe graduation, or your birthday. Whenever you looked at him with eyes that finally saw, no one else was fit to be with you. Only him. It was always him.
Caleb returned his hand to where it was before you interrupted. Rubbing little circles against your vulva, feeling it grow beneath your underwear.
He slid them carefully down your legs, folded them up next to your sleepy head.
Sighed while he pried your thighs apart, taking a good look at how you developed.
First, the urethra. He was prepared for this, took a catheter from his open backpack. He lined it up with your smallest hole and pushed the tube inside, sure to drain your bladder.
He wasn't going to let your organs burst. He wasn't a monster.
Once that was done, his fingertips felt along your outere labia. Then the inner, running along through the steep creases where they meant. He breathed hot against your genitals, watching for a reaction. If it signaled blood to flow, or lubricant to produce. He'd make note of everything.
His fingertips gently grazed around your clit, watched her every move, how your body opened up for him. It knew he belonged between your legs.
Caleb pinched your nipple between his fingers, lifted it up, testing that you would let him keep going this time. It was fair game.
He kept one hand on your breast, on the smaller one that hadn't quite caught up. Maybe it needed some stimulation, and he could help it along.
One finger. It was just one finger. You could take that, right?
God forbid you had an intact hymen and needed to get it surgically removed, or worse — thought he was bad at fucking you. All because your body hadn't been prepared.
He would take care of it. You didn't have to worry about a thing.
His finger pushed its way into a warm vagina. Gradually pulling out, rubbing back in, swirling around while he got a feel for it.
Eventually he added one more digit, two fingers pushing their way into your unpracticed pussy.
It didn't know what it was doing, still.
Caleb found all the spots that made it leak, make it spread, twitch and swell. His thumb rested on your clit, and then finally, your hole clenched around his fingers.
You had your first orgasm and didn't even know it.
But what if the time came and he wasn't entirely prepared? Didn't know already exactly how you like his dick?
That was unacceptable. He had to keep going. You were already stretched out, already lubed up. All he had to do was free his dick from where it strained against his boxers, and fit his key inside the lock.
It was harder than he'd expected. As soon as he speared you open, the suck was intoxicating, and ejaculation was imminent.
But that was okay. He pressed down on the cloth over your nose and mouth, poured some more anesthetic on it. The refractionary period wouldn't last forever.
He'd pump you full of his cum and feed you birth control, hide it in a treat as he shoved it in your mouth. Nothing could keep him away from this.
Your body would learn to crave him. Biologically wired to see him as the father of your child. No one else.
Sweat was dripping onto your abdomen, off of his hair. The sky was just beginning to grow light.
Maybe it wouldn't be tonight. But your training wouldn't end here. He wasn't giving up.
Caleb let himself ejaculate one last time, certain he'd be able to hold a plank record after hovering over you for so long.
He rolled you onto your side, and then back, with a bedpan beneath your hips. And then he unboxed the douching kit.
Inserted the plastic baster into your vagina, then squeezed the water out, and it dripped into the bedpan, less white and more clear with every rinse.
Caleb would leave no trace. He was never here.
Your clothing was back on, your wrists were untied, the medicated cloth was packed away.
The blanket pulled up as he tucked you in, said goodnight, and carried his packed bag back to his bedroom closet. Then he'd take a shower and walk you to school.
He'd pick up a morning after pill and a treat to hide it in. Maybe a whole batch. It's best to be prepared.