Cedric refuses to take her, but...

MonsterInNeed has crafted a truly compelling story—no surprise there, as he's an exceptionally talented writer. His work is guided by a strong moral compass, and he tends to steer his characters toward redemption and happier outcomes. There's something admirable about that kind of storytelling, where characters find their way back to decency and hope.

Like many of us, he appears to use AI as a writing assistant (as do I), which can sometimes result in scenes—particularly the intimate ones—feeling a bit more polished or restrained. With that in mind, I decided to explore a different branch of the story. My version takes things in a slightly darker direction, with more vivid and descriptive adult content. It’s admittedly a departure from Cedric’s and Gabriel’s original character, but I was curious to see where this alternative path could lead.

This is actually my first-ever attempt at writing erotica, so please be kind—but honest! If it doesn’t land, I’d appreciate the feedback. If you enjoy it, I’d love to hear that too. If it’s well received, I plan to continue building out this narrative branch on CHYOA. I am not doing this for any monetary gain, nor will I ever. I was captivated by Monster’s original story and thought ‘What if?’

I also want to reach out to Monster to discuss incorporating some of his original writing and plot elements into this alternate storyline, should I move forward. My version will feature characters who aren’t quite so morally conflicted about their current situation and unexpected circumstance —leaning more into the theme of “absolute power,” and what that might look like in this universe. What would the average man do if a beautiful woman (or several) would literally do anything you wanted? Happily and eagerly, putting your slightest wants as their primary focus.

Lastly, I highly encourage you to support MonsterInNeed by purchasing his story on Kindle or Smashwords (I did!). I read the entire thing in one sitting—it’s brilliantly written and meticulously researched. *Quick edit to this chapter as I decided I wanted to expand the story a bit and bring this universes version of Cedric and Gabriel more in line with Monster’s originals

~ Wendy

Cedric had been agonizing ever since we arrived at the Institute. He wanted me—he had wanted me since his wife died. I had seen it long before Claim Day, and so had Gabriel. But Cedric, ever the decent man—perfect, beautiful—would never act on his impulses.

He loved me. And he loved Gabriel. His unshakable moral code would never permit him to betray his best friend.

Days had passed since Claim Day. I was living with Gabriel now, sharing his apartment, though "sharing" wasn’t quite accurate. He avoided me, mostly. At Cedric’s insistence, I played the part of the devoted wife—smiling when appropriate, trying to recreate the rhythms of our life before everything changed. Cedric wanted me to keep up appearances. He was such a wonderful man, such a loyal friend.

But in truth, Gabriel and I were little more than strangers passing in the same rooms. He refused to touch me, wouldn’t even look at me properly. His anger simmered just beneath the surface—at Cedric, at me, at the cruel absurdity of the situation. He had buried himself in his work, obsessed with developing a cure for the brain modification. I hoped he failed, of course. I couldn’t imagine a life where Cedric wasn’t at the center of it.

Still, Cedric wanted that cure—for his daughter. And if Cedric wanted it, then I did too. Naturally.

I began inventing reasons to see him. Cleaning duty, meal delivery, organizing lab materials, ‘accidental’ hallway encounters. I had to mask my longing, bury every glance and swallow every word that might reveal how deeply I ached for him. If he suspected I was pining for him, he’d pull away completely.

But little by little, he let me in. Amid the swirl of his growing worry for Olivia, he began to rely on my presence—quietly, cautiously. In those moments, I felt a lightness that bordered on joy. Just to be near him was heaven.

Still, I saw him faltering. The knowledge that he could have me—if only he let himself—was wearing him down. That, and the distressed anxiety for his daughter, was slowly unraveling him. He needed relief. Desperately.

Eventually, with my help, he found a compromise. Something to ease the pressure of his desire without betraying his loyalty to Gabriel. Something he could tell himself was harmless.

The idea had been mine, mostly. He resisted at first—outright refused. But I was patient. Careful. I worked on him gently, over time. And finally, he gave in.

I had already placed the cameras in Gabriel’s office, hidden in just the right places. I had found a way to please Cedric. A way to offer him pleasure and just a little bit of peace.

It was time.

My pulse hammered against my ribs as I stood before Gabriel's office door, the silk of my black cocktail dress whispering against my thighs with every nervous shift of my weight. The fabric clung deliberately tight— Cedric had chosen it himself, knowing how the low back would drape open when bent over Gabriel's desk, how the hem would ride up to expose the black lace garter belt underneath. My fingers twitched at the memory of Cedric's instructions whispered against my neck, his breath hot as he mapped out exactly how this scene would unfold for his viewing pleasure later.

Make it convincing.

Make it filthy.

Give me something to remember when I'm alone.

The door knob felt cool against my palm as I turned it, stepping into the golden haze of late afternoon light filtering through the oak-paneled office. Gabriel had appointed his office in antique style, and stark contrast to the modern architecture of the institute. My husband sat slouched behind his imposing mahogany desk, his crisp white shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows exposing corded forearms, his usually impeccable tie loosened. A half-empty tumbler of whiskey glinted amber beside his laptop, the ice long melted. His head snapped up at my entrance, blue eyes narrowing with a mix of wariness and something darker as they tracked my approach.

"Wendy?" The deep rumble of his voice that use to send an instinctive shiver down my spine—now did nothing. "What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in the apartment"

I let my hips roll with deliberate precision as I rounded his desk, the four-inch heels clicking against the hardwood floors. The scent of his cologne—expensive bergamot and sandalwood—wrapped around me as I perched on the desk's edge, letting one stocking-clad leg brush deliberately against his knee.

"I came to fix things between us," I murmured, leaning back on my hands to arch my chest forward. The neckline gaped just enough to showcase the flush of cleavage, the catch of my lace bra visible if he looked closely.

Gabriel's knuckles whitened around his pen. "Fix what, exactly?"

Slowly, so slowly, I hooked the tip of my shoe behind his calf and dragged him closer until his thighs pressed against mine. Heat radiated through the thin fabric of his slacks. "It's been days since you've touched me." I let my voice drop to a throaty whisper, tracing the line of his jaw with a manicured nail. "Do you really think claiming changes biology? I still ache for you." I lied smoothly.

By now, Gabriel had gathered an immense amount of data on the Claimed women. One truth had become undeniable: we viewed our owners as the very center of our universe.

Each of us analyzed our owners with obsessive precision, constantly evaluating and reevaluating, searching for the exact actions that might bring them joy or pleasure. We had to interpret their needs, their moods, their desires—then pursue the best path forward with unwavering focus. Nothing else mattered.

Gabriel, of all people, understood this. He had his own women. He had to know that much of my behavior toward him was a performance. Whether he chose to deny it, held onto some sliver of hope, or had simply resigned himself to the reality, I couldn’t say. And frankly, I didn’t care.

What mattered—what had always mattered—was doing everything in my power to please Cedric.

A muscle leapt in his jaw as his gaze dropped to where my teeth worried my lower lip. "Cedric—"

"—knows," I finished, sliding forward until our lips nearly brushed. I inhaled sharply as his hand clamped around my waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath my ribs. "He wants us to have this. He wants us to still be man and wife." The admission sent an unexpected thrill through me—not for Gabriel, never for Gabriel—but for the image of Cedric's hungry gaze locked on the recording currently being made, his fist working slowly back and forth over his cock as he witnessed my performance.

Gabriel made a sound—raw and guttural, like a wounded animal. His free hand tangled in my hair, yanking it hard enough to snap my head back and bare my throat.

"You're telling me," he growled against the flutter of my pulse, "that your owner—my best friend—is letting me fuck his property?" He sneered.

His expression twisted with a storm of emotions: disgust, rage, humiliation. Whether he believed Cedric was mocking him, pitying him, or genuinely concerned about the crumbling façade of his marriage, I couldn’t tell. But one thing was clear—he couldn’t not know.

And the knowledge burned through him. It infuriated him beyond reason.

I moaned as his teeth scraped against my skin, the sharp edge of pain laced with pleasure making my stomach tighten. I was playing my part.

"Yes," I gasped, writhing beneath him. "He’s a decent man, Gabriel. He hasn’t touched me. He wants us to stay together until you can fix all of this."

Technically, it was the truth. Just not the whole truth.

Her eyes flicked around the room, subtle and practiced, noting the cameras carefully hidden in corners and shadows. She’d slip back in later—tonight, maybe tomorrow—to collect them.

With a snarl, Gabriel finally snapped. He hurled me backward across the desk. Papers scattered as my spine hit the polished wood, the impact shuddering through me. His hands made quick work of the dress straps, peeling the bodice down to my waist before ripping the flimsy lace bra clean apart. Cool air pebbled my nipples as he stared, ravenous.

"Look at you," he breathed, dragging a calloused thumb over one peaked bud. "So fucking responsive." His other hand hooked into my panties, tearing them away with a sharp jerk that left red marks on my hips. "You’re saying your mine whenever I want you?" I played along, not letting on that any excitement I showed was due to the thought of Cedric watching, of the idea that I was pleasing my owner.

The first slap landed with a crack that echoed off the bookshelves, his palm printing blazing heat across my left ass cheek. I shrieked, back bowing as the sting radiated outward, my thighs snapping together reflexively. Gabriel wedged his knee between them, forcing me open.

"So wet," he murmured, dragging two fingers through my slick folds before shoving them knuckle-deep. "All this for me?" His thumb flicked my clit in rough circles as his fingers crooked sharply, wrenching a sob from my throat. “No” I thought to myself. Never for you. Always for Cedric. I didn’t voice the truth, instead what I knew he wanted to hear. “Yes, baby, I want you. I want this so bad.”

I let out a moan—carefully crafted, just believable enough.

"Please... take me," I choked out, my body arching against Gabriel’s hand.

Cedric’s voyeuristic hunger lingered in my mind, fueling me—the thought of performing for him, of being watched, admired, owned, sent a rush of molten heat low in my belly.

"Please, Gabriel... please—"

My gaze drifted toward the corner of the room, to the hidden camera I knew was recording. Locking eyes with the lens, I mouthed the words silently, deliberately:

I love you, Cedric.

Gabriel’s fingers withdrew with a slight squelching noise, replaced instantly by the thick head of his cock grinding against my entrance. I gasped at the intrusion, my inner muscles fluttering around him as he pushed inexorably deeper.

"Not there," I panted, twisting to look over my shoulder. My nails scored the mahogany as I arched my back, presenting myself. "The other hole, Gabriel. Fuck my ass. Claim my asshole.” Cedric had reluctantly expressed his desire to see this, in a moment of weakness. I wanted to do anything I could to maximize his pleasure.

Gabriel froze. When he spoke, his voice was barely human. "You've never let me—"

"I need it," I begged, spreading wider. The thought of Cedric's rapt attention on the recording had my pulse rabbiting. "Fuck me like you hate me. Like I'm just a warm hole for your cock."

The first breach was brutal. Gabriel speared forward with little preparation beyond his spit and a bit of my pussy slick that he'd dragged down his length, the burn white-hot as my body struggled to accommodate him. Tears pricked my eyes as he bottomed out, his hips flush against my ass, every shallow breath making the stretch more exquisitely painful.

"Holy fuck," Gabriel groaned, his hands bracketing my hips in a vise grip. "You're swallowing me alive—"

Then he moved.

There was no finesse, no slow build—just animalistic thrusts that shoved me up the desk with every snap of his hips. The slap of skin on skin mixed with my choked whimpers, the desk legs screeching against the floor as he hammered into me. One hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back to expose the tear tracks on my cheeks while the other snaked around to pinch my clit in cruel circles.

There was no tenderness, no love. I didn’t care, focused on performing for the cameras, for Cedric.

"Who do you belong to?" Gabriel rasped against my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

He knew the answer—of course he did. But still, he wanted to hear the lie. Maybe for pride. Maybe for ego. Maybe just to feel like he still had something that hadn't been taken from him.

Beneath us, my sweat mingled with the varnish, making it tacky against my breasts.

Cedric, I thought.

But what I said was, "Y-you," the word breaking on a sob as I arched into the pain.

It was a lie—in this moment, for Cedric's pleasure, I was Gabriel's to use, only to borrow.

He picked up his pace, his cock slamming into my ass, pulling out almost all the way, then slammed back in. I moaned, then started rhythmically grunting to each of Gabriels deep thrusts. “uh, uh, uh, uh, UH, UH, UH, UH, UHHHHHHHHH!!!” My grunts getting faster, louder. My reaction sent Gabriel into a frenzy, he gripped my hips roughly, pounding into me, faster and faster.

The angle shifted slightly, and suddenly he was hitting something deep inside me, a spot that sent electricity crackling through my nerves. My vision whited out as my orgasm built, images of Cedric jackhammering into my tight hole spurring me to greater pleasure. Gabriel was getting close now, lost in the moment—oblivious to my real motives, my true feelings. Or most likely he knew and simply didn’t care. Using me to relieve his anger and frustration.

His teeth sank into my shoulder as his pace turned erratic, the swollen head of his cock rubbing mercilessly against my anal walls with every drive forward. I came screaming, my ass clenching exquisitely around him as the orgasm tore through me in violent waves. Gabriel cursed, his rhythm faltering as my clenching pulled him over the edge. With a final, series of rough thrusts, he repeatedly buried himself to the hilt, held for a second, then repeated the motion. He came, hot and deep, rope after rope of cum, his hands locking on me as he ground into me, riding out his climax.

We stayed locked together for long minutes, his softening cock still wedged deep inside my ass as our breathing evened out. When he finally withdrew, a lewd trickle of cum followed, painting the inside of my trembling thighs.

Gabriel's hands were surprisingly gentle as he turned me over, his thumb swiping at the tears on my cheeks. Perhaps a remnant – a reminder – of our former life and true intimacy. His kiss tasted like salt and possession. I closed my eyes, pretended it was Cedric kissing me.

I smiled as I redressed, already imagining the lurid glow of monitor lights playing across Cedric's face as he replayed every second. The thought alone had me squeezing my thighs together, savoring the sticky ache between them—his ache, now. His proof. I looked at him feigning a warmth I did not feel. There was just nothing there. He avoided my gaze, it seemed post orgasm clarity had sparked some kind of regret, of guilt.

Again, I didn’t care. For Cedric, I'd do this a thousand times.