Beast Breathing Novels & Stories

Of course Christopher Henry Jameson—also known as Beast- wasn't the average man. He stood 6'5" and weighed three hundred and two pounds. He didn't like the extra three pounds. He rather liked being in the two hundred weight range even if it was by just one or two pounds. Regardless, there wasn't an ounce of fat on his perfect body. Beast was muscles on top of muscles, yet not hulking like some of the others that worked in the Marine Corps division assigned to The Department of Home Land Security, or better known as DHS. Too big made you slow. He'd seen guys bigger than him hospitalized during the CRUCIBLE training.

He then flapped his lip and rolled over his tongue without uttering a single word, [ The beast is anticipating our attacks based on the vibration in air… ] They all nodded. Very soon, they all muffled their voices and started communicating in signs. The sudden silence made the beast halt for a second. However, they soon noticed the razor sharp spikes attached to his tongue rattled with a thick ferociousness. A rattling rhythm precipitating out, brought forth an eerie sensation to their ears. They couldn't understand why it was doing that until they noticed blood dripping down from Creed's ears reaching all the way to the collar bone. "Oh Shit!! It's an echo… This son-of-a-bitch is calling

Bothered by the light, I sit up with a building headache, freezing in motion when I spot Beast pulling down his pants further away. What is he doing? Blinking to focus my eyes, I stare at the tall man, sweating once I catch sight of his glorious equipment. Thick, long, and perfect: could you ask for more? Spit catches in my throat, my face heating as I'm unable to swallow or pull away from the display of him. "W-What are you doing?" My voice cracks at the end. Beast casually pees in a pit but stops once he catches me gawking at him. Startled, he spins around to hide his colossal battleax, and instead, I'm caught staring at his fine bubble butt.

Dad's voice kept ringing in my head. It rang in my head over and over again until I began to recite it but it wasn't helping matters. My inner beast wasn't taking it and so was I. I held my head tightly hoping it might help me but it made no difference. I felt suffocated and out of breath. I tried gasping for air but it was all effortless so I just clutched myself to the side of my bed and curled in my fetal position as I let whatever was sucking the life out of me continue. Even though I didn't want to, I kept gasping for air and my panting could be heard out loud.

The beast chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a thrill through me. "Good girl," it growled, its hands tightening on my hips as it continued to thrust into me, its cock filling me completely with each powerful stroke. The beast's hand wrapped around my neck, its grip firm but gentle as it tilted my head back to expose my throat. Its golden eyes locked onto mine, and it began to move faster, its hips thrusting with a newfound urgency. I gasped, my body trembling as the beast's cock pounded into me, its thrusts deep and relentless, its breath hot on my ear as it whispered, "You're mine now."

I texted, "Well. I… vented the way you think." We fell silent. Venting beastkin were part of an illegal industry, usually involving kidnapping young beastkin or buying low-grade beastkin at low prices. They were then put through a brutal selection process to single out the beastkin with strong bodies and rapid healing abilities to be selected as venting beastkin. Those who passed end up as human punching bags. Venting beastkin were used for torture, beatings, and stress relief. Some were forced into underground arenas for gladiator-style duels. These beastkin, though pitiful, were widely regarded as wild and untamable.

I'm shaking uncontrollably. It's so strange. Why would my heart suddenly start beating so violently? Why does it feel like there's someone holding onto my ribs tightly? Why does it feel like my lungs need more air? Why can't I breathe? Am I having a heart attack or something? The wolf's nose is getting closer and closer to my chest, inhaling deeply every single time I exhale loudly. And then, suddenly, its body stiffens up and it whimpers quietly. It's like it's saying "sorry". Its eyes slowly close and I can see it falling asleep. I sigh in relief. Thank goodness.

Like someone was controlling him from the inside. A monster. The Beast. “Fa-biano.” I choked out, feeling my grip loosen at his arm. “S-stop.” I panicked; totally convinced that I was going to die like this. My eyes started to droop. Just when I thought I was going to die, his hand was off my neck and I was shoved back. Tears dipped down my cheeks, I cried out when my back hit the floor, making me arch as the pain hit me. Coughs hit me, they shook my body as tried to draw large gulps of air into my burning lungs, trying to extinguish the fire that had spread through them because of the lack of oxygen.

The beast spoke in between earthquake inducing growls. It's voice wasn't right either, it was speaking correct but hearing human language come from the vocal chords of a monster was absolutely horrifying. Claude didn't know who the giant monster could be talking to so he decided to stay quiet. Even if he wanted to talk, he'd have to wait for his spine to stop tingling first. The beast took another eerily silent step towards him— causing his body to betray him further as he began to try harder to curl into himself and away from the beast.

The beast is trying to break free, it’s so strong. Grabbing the first rock I see I run up and bash the beast in the head. Over and over I keep bashing the rock against it’s head. My adrenaline is at full throttle with blood spurting everywhere, the only thing I know to do is to smash it’s head in. I don’t stop until I know it’s no longer breathing. “Finally” as I sit here trying to catch my breath.