Alpha Seeking Omega

Author’s note: This story is set in an omegaverse involving shifters (like werewolves, but they can be any animal and shift at will — not a huge part of the story, though). You can find more details via Google.

This story also contains non-consensual activity, enemas, scat (not touching, just description), and watersports. If those aren’t your thing, turn back now. If they are, hope you enjoy!

***

Chapter One

“Let me in, omega,” Mr. Brown says, pounding on my bedroom door.

I frown, peeling the covers off myself and going to the door. What was he doing here this time of night? It’s past ten, but him knocking on my door at any hour is odd. Mr. Brown never pays me much attention, unless it’s to bark orders at me during the day. I doubt he even remembers that my name is Rose.

“Yes, sir?” I say when I open the door, trying to hide my body. My nightgown covers me well, but I’m not wearing a bra or panties underneath, and the fabric is a little translucent.

He pushes past me and into the room, looking around before sitting on my bed. I start to go to the rickety chair in the corner, but he pats the comforter next to him. The look in his eyes is hard to read. Maybe it’s because it’s not one of his two moods — annoyed or angry. He looks me up and down for a moment, making my skin crawl.

“You’re coming off your heat suppressants,” he says once I sit down. “And we’re gonna find you an alpha and he’ll take you from there.”

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open a little. Out of all the things he could have said, this is the absolute last thing I would have thought. I’m an omega, yes, but not the kind that he’s talking about.

We’re split into three groups. First are the sexual companions, on special medications to prevent pregnancy while maintaining the higher sexual desires that omegas have naturally. From what I heard, they live fairly luxurious lives, though they were ‘used’ frequently and often publicly, treated almost like slaves. I’ve never met or seen one, so I don’t know how true the rumors are.

The second group are breeders. They usually have something special about them that an alpha wants, like a strong animal form or beauty or charisma. Because of that, they were bred as often as they could. With all the technologies available, that could be a few times a year.

The rest, myself included, are subservient workers. We’re on hormone suppressants so we don’t go into heat or get distracted by our naturally high sex drives, which is completely fine by me. I’ve been on them since I started to come of age. It doesn’t remove the desire entirely, but it pushes it far into the background to keep us on task.

I’m a plain country omega with an equally dull wolf form — the most common type of shifter. All I’ve known is working on this farm. The only time I’ve really left is when I went into town with Mr. Brown to buy a new part for a tractor, and that was years ago, so I’m not cultured in the slightest. I can do the basics like reading, writing, and math, but that’s it. There’s absolutely nothing special about me to warrant coming off my heat suppressants.

“Me? Why?” I finally stammer, my heart still pounding out of my chest.

“That doesn’t concern you.” Mr. Brown looks at me again, his eyes scanning my body, then my face. “When’d you turn eighteen again?”

“Six months ago.”

“Good.” He pushes my blonde hair back over my shoulder, and I flinch. “You still a virgin, or have you fucked that omega boy who tends to the horses?”

“That’s…it’s not…”

I can’t form the words. I am a virgin, even though I like Gentry, the omega he’s referring to. I’ve never really had sexual desires before beyond romantic crushes or the desire to kiss someone. But still, it’s embarrassing for me to talk about sex.

Now I’m going to be mated off to some random alpha, which is entirely within Mr. Brown’s rights. As a friend of the family, he became my guardian when my parents died when I was ten, a role that lasts well beyond the age of consent for omegas. He has full control of my life, even though he’s a beta.

“Are you?” He asks again, annoyance coming into his eyes. “Or are you nervous because you’re lying to me? Lay down and open your legs.”

“Please,” I say quietly, desperation in my voice. “I am. I promise.”

“You took too long to answer, omega.” He pushes me onto my back and kneels next to the bed. “Open.”

I stare at the ceiling, taking a shaky breath, and part my knees a little. He shoves my nightgown up to my hips and opens my legs wide, exposing my most private area. His thumbs spread my lips and he looks at my pussy for far longer than he probably has to, looking at my little untouched opening and touching my clit. My hormone suppressants have almost completely killed my sex drive, so him touching me only makes me ashamed, no hint of arousal as much as he rubs my ‘sensitive’ spots.

“Hm, you’re right,” he says, looking back up at me but keeping my pussy spread with his thumbs. “Your hormones are gonna go nuts while you come off those pills, but I expect you to remain untouched until we find your alpha. No cocks or fingers or anything go inside this cunt, understood? Don’t even touch yourself.”

I swallow hard, nodding. The violent look in his eye tells me everything I need to know about my fate if I defy him.

***

Mr. Brown is right. Coming off heat suppressants is making my hormones go nuts.

The feelings creep on slowly. The first day, I felt fine, but now it’s the third day and I’m noticing that I start throbbing a little between my legs at the smallest things — Gentry’s tight ass when he bends over to clean a horse’s hooves, the feeling of the fabric of my bra against my nipples, random fantasies about one of the pretty betas who keeps coming by to talk to Mr. Brown in his office for whatever reason.

I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying my best to ignore my swollen clit. I can’t sleep.

With a sigh, I pull my covers up to my chin and turn on my side, hoping the ache will go away. It doesn’t. I’ve thought about sex and know the basics — I’m not particularly educated but I’m not that ignorant — but all of these feelings are unfamiliar.

Is this how the non-worker omegas feel all the time, horniness always on the edge of their consciousness? It’s exhausting. No wonder they developed hormone suppressants for omegas centuries ago. Otherwise I don’t know where our society would be with a whole sub-type of beings so consumed with sex that they can hardly think of anything else.

I could touch myself a little to get some relief, but what if Mr. Brown finds out? I don’t want to risk it. I’ve spent my whole life keeping my head down and enduring, even as Mr. Brown and the other betas who work here treated me like dirt. I can pretend I’m not horny for a while.

“Omega,” Mr. Brown says, knocking on my door.

I freeze again, my heart starting to pound.

“Yes, sir?” I manage to say.

He opens the door and shuts it behind him. Instinctively, I pull my covers up even higher. Once again, I’m in my nightgown, no bra or panties. I’m painfully aware of how naked I am underneath this scrap of fabric.

“Those suppressants are working their way out of your system, aren’t they?” He says, a wicked grin on his face. The door clicks shut behind him.

I bite my bottom lip and avoid his gaze, which makes him chuckle.

“Poor thing.” His tone is mocking and makes my face go red. “Let me check you again. Need to see if you’re keeping that promise or if you’re any closer to your first full heat.”

I don’t want to show him, or for him to be in this room, but there’s nothing I can do. Even if I shift into my wolf form and make a run for it, his shifter form is a lion and he’d undoubtedly take me down with ease.

I’m an omega and he’s my guardian even though we don’t share any blood. I have to do as he says.

I slowly take off the blankets, giving him room to sit down at my feet. He pushes me onto my back.

“Hold your legs open, girl,” he says, moving my hands so they’re behind each of my thighs, splaying me wide open.

The first time this happened, I was mortified, and I am again, but for different reasons. The cool air breezes against my damp slit and it feels like heaven in the two seconds before Mr. Brown opens my pussy lips with his thumbs again.

I try to close my legs but he slaps my inner thigh, hard.

“Stay still.” He slides his fingers over my inner lips, around my clit, and at my still virgin entrance. My pussy clenches around nothing when he touches my clit, and I gasp. It feels electric, even though I’m equally grossed out at Mr. Brown being the one to make me feel that way. “Mm, you like that?”

I focus on the ceiling, my face hot with shame. I really, really like it — or at least my body does. My brain is telling me that this is all wrong.

I grip the blankets as he continues to touch me, his thumb rubbing circles around my clit. My pussy gets wetter and wetter, and my breath comes in shallow pants. I know I should close my legs and push him away, but I want to come so badly that it hurts. I want to be filled.

“Damn, I’m not an alpha but that omega scent,” he murmurs, sliding down to his stomach and putting his face inches from my slit. “It’s delicious.”

I cry out when his tongue touches me, tasting the slick that’s steadily streaming from me. He laps it up, sucking on my clit and licking around my entrance but not breaking the barrier there. It feels like heaven. Finally, some of the ache I’ve been carrying around all day starts to fade and I sink into the pleasure. It doesn’t matter that Mr. Brown is repulsive to me — ugly, sweaty, hairy in odd places, and awkwardly shaped. He’s giving me what I need.

I try to spread my legs wider, to get more contact or to get him to fill me with a finger or something, but he doesn’t. Still, I feel an enormous pressure building up inside me, threatening to make me lose control. An orgasm. I’ve never had one, but I know it’s going to feel incredible.

My breath comes in shallow pants, my thighs quaking. Something inside me tells me I’m past the point of no return and I come. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, my cunt rhythmically tightening and relaxing, warmth filling my entire body. There’s a small gush of warm fluid from between my legs, which makes Mr. Brown let out a little sound of pleasure.

Once I come down from my high, I go limp, staring at the ceiling. I can’t believe that just happened, and that Mr. Brown was the one to give me my first orgasm. Disgust and shame start to creep into my thoughts, especially when he stands up, laughing. I close my legs, feeling my body get hot in an unpleasant way. I feel like a slut, ready and willing to do anything to get off.

“That’s a good girl. Don’t forget what I said the other day — don’t you dare touch yourself.” He opens the door, giving me a smile that makes my stomach churn. “Good night.”

***

As the days go on, the full force of not being on a heat suppressant kicks in and Mr. Brown gets bolder. He checks me in the mornings now when I wake up, just to “be sure” that I’m being good, rubbing my clit with his thumb until I climax.

At lunch time he pulls me into his office and forces his face between my legs, eating my pussy until I’m shaking and begging for more, even as tears of humiliation stream down my face.

He does the same in the evenings and I’ve come to crave my release as much as I dread it. I know the others can hear me when I come. News that I’m off heat suppressants and that I’m going to be given to an alpha has spread quickly. I can hardly look anyone in the eye anymore, not that they want to. Everyone gives me a wide berth, like I’m contagious.

There haven’t been any omegas off their suppressants on the farm before, and the knowledge of exactly what’s going on with my body makes the mostly sexless omegas uncomfortable. I know it would have made me uncomfortable if I were in their position.

One evening, I come out of the shower and grab my nightgown, wondering if it’s even worthwhile for me to dress. Mr. Brown is going to come in and check my cunt, then make me come. Lately he’s been feeling my breasts too, which are a little bit swollen and tender.

So I just sit down on my bed, naked, and wait.

He comes around right on time, not even knocking. Instead of wearing his casual clothes, he’s in the clothes he wears around the farm, coveralls and boots. His slight gut strains against the coveralls, sticking out farther than the obvious erection he has.

“Ah, ready for me already, huh?” He asks, smiling. “Too bad, today’s different. Come with me.”

I frown, then go to grab my clothes. But he takes my clothes out of my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“Sir, I’m naked,” I say, feeling the urge to cover myself even as slick starts to drip down my thighs.

“I know. Doesn’t matter.” The angry expression I’m used to comes into his eyes. “Now come along.”

I keep my eyes on the ground as he leads me out of the boarding house and to a building on the far side of the farm where his office is. Instead of going to the office, though, he opens a door and leads me down some stairs I’ve never noticed before, locking up behind us.

The stairwell leads to a sterile looking room — a concrete floor with a drain in the middle, a cushioned platform with restraints on the side, a stool, a sink and metal cabinets lining the walls.

“What is this?” I ask, even though I should listen to him without questioning.

“Gotta clean you out and get you ready for the first of your potential alphas to visit tonight.” He says, pushing me towards the cushioned platform. “Lay on your back.”

Clean me out? I just showered, which he can probably smell, but I don’t question him again. Alphas are coming. I don’t know whether to feel relieved that my daily humiliation at Mr. Brown’s hands will be over, or terrified of what an alpha could do with me.

He comes around the platform, restraining my arms above my head, thrusting my breasts up, then opening my legs. He wraps a tight restraint around each thigh and shin, then tethers those to something underneath the table so I’m on total display for him with my knees bent towards my chest. Then, for good measure, he straps one across my hips so I can’t lift them. The bright florescent lights make me feel even more embarrassed than I do when he opens me up in my room.

Once I’m secure, he goes and starts to grab things from the closet, putting things together. I can’t see what he’s doing, but I hear water running. It reminds me that I didn’t empty my bladder before we came out here and I’m regretting it. Being spread open like this isn’t helping me hold it.

Soon Mr. Brown turns, holding a nozzle attached to a huge rubber bag on a pole. He wheels it next to me, then grabs something else from his pocket.

“Hold still,” he says, as if I can move with how strapped in I am.

Still, I squeak and wiggle when he puts something cold against my butthole. Then, he pushes something inside several inches, a small bulb burning when he pushes it just inside of me. I grunt in pain as he squeezes a pump between my legs, making the end of the nozzle inside of me inflate.

I don’t even get a warning when he turns on the water, which quickly flows into me. I start to panic and move away, but I’m trapped.

“Shh, relax.” Mr. Brown strokes my bent knee, coming to stand next to my head. “Just making sure your back entrance is all clear in case the alphas want to sample you a little. You been backed up since the heat suppressants have worn off?”

I just close my eyes, an uncomfortable fullness starting to fill my body, and nod. The hormonal changes have messed up everything in my body, including my digestion. I don’t think I’ve emptied by bowels in the past five or six days.

“Good thing I made this stuff strong, then,” he says, absently squeezing a breast before moving back between my legs.

“M-Mr. Brown?” I ask, taking a deep breath against an intense cramp that hits me. The little plug inside me will prevent anything from coming out — or at least that how it feels — but that doesn’t stop the pain. “Sir, it hurts.”

“I know.” He doesn’t seem bothered. “Want me to make it feel better?”

He wheels a stool over and sits between my legs. Slick drips from my pussy right away, making him chuckle even as I writhe around, the coldness of the water pumping inside of me making me shiver. My thighs are shaking and the water doesn’t seem to be slowing down.

When he runs his tongue up and down my slit, I cry out, torn between pleasure and the pain in my guts. I want to come so badly already. He knows what I like now, tasting all of me and sucking the slick dripping from my hole. Usually I’d be halfway to bliss right now, but the more water fills my gut, the less room for water there is inside of my bladder. It hurts.

“Sir, I have to pee,” I say through pants as he continues to toy with me. “I don’t think I can hold it.”

He keeps going, maybe even faster, lapping at my urethra. I let my head fall back, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to hold back. But my muscles quiver, then fail, sending my piss right into Mr. Brown’s face. To my surprise, he puts his mouth over me, drinking me straight from the source, getting his entire face wet with slick and piss as he sloppily licks my cunt like an animal.

As mortifying as this is, I come hard, sending waves of pleasure along with cramps all over my body. It’s too much — my feet are cramping too and I’m crying and it’s all too much. I come down from the high, panting and shaking.

“Mm, what a good girl,” Mr. Brown says, standing. His coveralls are soaked, as is his beard. “You took the whole thing. And now we wait.”

I have to hold this in? I hear him disconnect the tube from the bag, leaving the plug up my ass. It’s the only thing I’m grateful for so I don’t release everything in my bowels as I lay here.

Cramp after cramp hits me, my stomach gurgling loudly even over the sound of Mr. Brown cleaning up. The downward pressure of the balloon inside of me starts to hurt, and after a while, my body wants to push it out. Sweat blooms all over my body, and I keep trying to squirm in my bondage. The position I’m in only amplifies everything I’m feeling.

“Mr. Brown, please. I can’t hold this in any longer.”

And I’ll have to make my way upstairs to the bathroom to empty myself. I don’t see another door around here. The thought of gravity pressing down on my bowels when I stand makes me queasy.

“Mm, it’s been long enough I guess.” I hear him pick something up and place it down between my legs. A tall plastic bin, the kind we use in the barn to throw out trash.

Then he starts to deflate one of the balloons on the plug, the outer one.

“Wait, I don’t think I can hold it until I get to a bathroom!” I say, clenching my bottom as hard as I can even as my stomach cramps.

“You’re gonna release it right here.” He taps the plastic bin and moves from between my legs to undo my arms. “Might be easier to sit up. Scoot down.”

The cramps, which are so intense that I see my muscles move in my bloated stomach, make me want to push it all out of me, right now. But right now means doing it in front of Mr. Brown, my legs tied open so he can see it all. He moves me so my butt is hanging off the edge of the table, my upper half propped up on my elbows so I can see what’s happening between my legs.

I take a deep breath as he deflates the inner balloon and I’m forced to accept the inevitable. The filthy water comes rushing out of my ass and into the pail below. Mr. Brown holds the container at an angle so nothing spills, staring down at me as I shoot out stream after stream, moaning at how good it feels to let go. I want to get this over with as soon as I can, so I push hard, hearing heavier plops in the water from time to time.

Then, it all stops. I breath out a sigh of relief, though I still feel full. The pause is brief, though, as something feels stuck. He locks eyes with me, only increasing my shame as I bear down and pass a turd so big that it hurts. They keep coming, solid logs mixed with streams of water, the cramps helping me move it all along. Emptying feels blissful, the pressure finally out of my body even though the mortification of relieving myself in front of Mr. Brown is still there.