Precious

Lily wakes up in a hospital. She has two options, live the rest of her life in pain, or take a vampire bite and surrender part of her immortality being babied. Quite literally. It's not too bad, really. An Alpha Werewolf is willing to take care of her as long as she's willing to do what he wants.

Evidently, what he wants is to have her in a diaper, drink from a bottle, and just— be his precious pup.

He also likes to keep her filled up. And not just her belly.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

She could get the bite or she could suffer forever. It feels like too easy of a choice. She remembers agreeing to it, but not the specifics of what it entails on account of the terrible pain she's in. Then, she remembers teeth biting into her neck and a burning, fiery pain coursing through her veins.

She doesn't remember anything beyond that. She must have forgotten a lot, because now, she's being manhandled out of her bed and her vision is too blurry for her to make out anything at all. She wants to struggle, kick out and maybe bite at the man picking her up, but her head is growing dizzier and the contents of her stomach somersaults. She whimpers unhappily and thinks peaceful thought to keep from puking.

“Stop moving, love,” he says in a tone that makes her feel like she's a child again and she's being chastised for misbehaving.

She stops struggling not because she's listening to him. It's only cause she worries that she's going to vomit again, but then the man balances her on his arm and him being still makes her head spin a little less, so she stops struggling. He must be huge and very strong if he's able to carry her so easily like this, though she can't really see him clearly other than an indistinctive shape.

“She'll probably feel sick for a while yet. Do you remember what's happened, baby? You were in an accident.” the second man is talking to her from afar, standing at the door instead of walking in. She can see his blurry shape there, a dark mass of shadows at the door.

She doesn't remember the accident, but she remembers the aftermath a little. She opens her mouth to tell him that, but the words don't come out of her mouth. She clenches her eyes together on a sob as she cries out instead and is unable to say more than an unintelligible mumbling.

“Poor baby. It's okay.” The wet wipe is back, rubbing across her face soothingly.

“She looks like a very fussy little baby.” The man says from the door.

“She's not being fussy. The doctors says she's going to be a little disorientated for a while and the medicine is making her feel sick,” he says. And then, to her, she whispers, “It's alright, love. Daddy's got you. Let's go get you cleaned up while Chase cleans up your crib, alright?”

Cleaned up? Surely he can't be saying what she thinks he's saying. And what was is he said about her— her crib? Was that the bed they had tied her up in? And 'Daddy'? He's not her Daddy! She had been an orphan her entire life. She doesn't have parents. She doesn't get the chance to get him to elaborate as he carries her out of the room, carrying her past Chase, who moves out of the way quickly. Her brain stutters to a screeching halt when she realizes he's brought her into a bathroom.