Chapter 12: Pregnancy and more Love Professions

The seasons slipped by as they usually do and the bellies of eight women grew as their pregnancies progressed. Dorian was told by the doctor that making love with them was fine, ‘Just know that your child is in there, so be a little bit more gentle.’ he said to him.

The rotation went back to normal so that Roslyn and one of the concubines was with him all the time. Roslyn continued to work out with Dorian and her body continued to tighten up and become less flabby and more toned. Her belly on the other hand, started to expand as her pregnancy progressed and nothing could be done about that at this time.

In the morning Dorian would find a willing woman in his bed, either his wife or a concubine, and make love with them. They were usually well enough in the morning to take his cock into their cunts, but sometimes one of them was not feeling well and would have to move to the toilet instead of taking a cock to her cunt. Dorian never complained. He never made anyone feel left out or ashamed at being pregnant, he would take his pleasure with someone else. The system worked well for them all.

As the months passed by and the due dates started to get closer and closer, the doctor started to make regular trips to see them all. He figured out that Sabine would most likely deliver first. Beyond that, it was a guess as to who would go next. Roslyn was most likely going to go last which was fine with her.

The babies arrived one by one over the course of a month and Roslyn was last started to arrive. Her due date arrived and she was still pregnant.

Two days later, a pain hit her in the gut and she woke up from her nap crying out in pain and calling for Dorian.

“DORIAN!” she cried and he came racing into the room where Roslyn was napping.

“What is it, my love? What’s wrong?”

“Hurt, pain, baby!” she cried, clutching her belly.

Dorian called for the doctor. He then moved to her side and took her hand in his, telling her to ‘breathe, honey, breathe’.

When the doctor arrived he moved to her side. “When did the contractions start?”

Dorian looked at the clock, “about an hour ago.”

“Good. Let me check her progress.” the doctor said, then went to wash his hands and put gloves on. Roslyn was helped, getting her clothes off, then when she was naked, the doctor examined her progress in labor.

“Oh, very good. You are about 5 centimeters and 50 percent effaced. Well done Roslyn.” he said, then covered her body and went to dump the gloves in the trash.

“So how much longer?” she asked him.

“I’ll be back in an hour and give you a better answer.” he said then left the room.

Dorian sat with his wife, holding her hand and trying to comfort her as contractions came and went. They breathed through them together, united in purpose.

She had one last contraction when her water broke and soaked the bed. The contraction was a big one and she gritted her teeth and groaned through it.

“How are you Roslyn?” the doctor asked, just as the contraction ended.

“I think my water broke. And I feel like I really need to push.”

The doctor washed up, put on gloves and found that she was dilated fully and completely ready to deliver this baby.

“Dorian, just like with the others, hold her legs up and open as she pushes. Roslyn honey, now is the time to push.” He said, getting between her legs, hands at the ready to catch the baby about to arrive in this world.

Roslyn brethren heavily then bore down and pushed.

“Waaaaaa” cried the new baby after the doctor cleaned out the baby’s mouth and nose.

The little one was wrapped in a blanket and placed on Roslyn’s chest. Roslyn and Dorian both cried happy tears as they gazed upon the little life that they created. Dorian kissed her face, her temple and told her how good she did.

The doctor finished with Roslyn and checked the baby to make sure it was healthy, then wrapped the baby in a tight blanket and laid the baby on Roslyn’s chest allowing the baby to nurse from her breast.

Dorian just beamed proudly, just as he did with all of the other women who delivered his baby. He told her how proud he was of her continuing to kiss her and the baby nursing from her breast.

Word spread throughout the castle, Roslyn had delivered her baby and everyone rejoiced.

Eight babies now. Eight babies for him to love and help raise. Eight babies that could take the curse from him. Eight times the love he gets to show.

The day ended with the whole family passing through her room to look upon the baby she made. Of royal blood through and through. The concubines and their babies came and saw and said words of admiration to Roslyn and to Dorian.

During a quiet moment where he got to sit and hold his newest child, he gazed into the little face now asleep in his arms and wondered if this one was going to take the curse, or if one of the others would take it.

He went to the bathroom after the little one was asleep and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was unchanged. He still bore the curse, still fured, fanged and horned. Still the biggest man in the land and still the prince of a cursed house.

He kissed Roslyn and went for a walk. He ended at the garden where the rose bush still bloomed. The fragrance still filled the area with this pleasant smell, one that he had come to smell many times over the past months.

He took a knee by the bush and looked at the eight blooms, surrounding one single bloom at the top, only partially open. The other eight, all representing the woman in his life, were all fully open since all eight had confessed their love for him during their pregnancies. The only one left, the one at the top, the one that most likely represents himself, still partially open.

“Why? Why the rose? Why did you have to curse my family? Why did you do it?” he said, kneeling by the rose bush talking to himself and the bush.

“What does the final bloom mean? Is it for me? A sign of me loving myself? What does it mean?” he asked the bush, but got no answer from it.

“Do I love myself? How can I love what scares most people? How can I love this form?” he asked, then looked at his hands. The palms of his hands were man hands, built for work and for love. The back of his hands were that of a beast, partially covered with fur. His knuckles are calloused and hard from his punching bag. How could I love myself? He thought to himself quietly.

Celeste was walking the hallway, carrying her child in her arms, enjoying just being alive in this place when she passed the garden and saw Dorian kneeling near the rose bush.

She moved silently but the cooing of the baby brought Dorian out of his self reflection and he opened an arm to her and to his child. Celeste knelt by his side holding the baby out for him to hold and love.

“What is it sire? Do you need your cock warmed here, in the garden?” she asked him. A twinkle in her eyes as she knelt before beside him.

He gently shook his head, setting his fur in motion. “No, I’m fine for the moment.”

She rested her head against him, “What troubles you Dorian?”

He moved and pointed to the last rose bud, partially open among the other roses fully open and spreading their fragrance to all who entered the garden.

Celeste looked over, saw what he was pointing at. She immediately understood. “The last rose is you, isn’t it?”

He just nodded his head, looking down at his hands once again as they held his little baby.

Celeste placed her hand gently on his arm. She could see the doubt in his eyes, the lingering fear that he wasn’t enough—that he didn’t deserve love.

“Dorian,” she began softly, her voice steady but full of emotion, “I know you see the beast when you look in the mirror. But that’s not who you are. I’ve spent time with you, watched you, and I know the man inside—the one who protects, who cares, who feels deeply. You’ve given so much to all of us. We’re not just here because you’re a prince, or because of some duty. We’re here because we love you. Not the prince, not the beast, but you.”

She paused, her hand squeezing his gently as she searched his eyes.

“You see, love isn’t about perfection, or being something you think others want you to be. Love is about accepting yourself for who you are, flaws and all. We see your strength, your kindness, and the way you care for us. We love you because of who you are—not in spite of the curse, but because of the man you are within it.”

Dorian looked away, still unsure, but Celeste leaned in closer, her tone growing firmer.

“You’ve spent your life carrying this curse, believing it defines you. But it doesn’t. What defines you is how you’ve lived in spite of it, how you’ve never let it make you bitter or cruel. If you can love us, despite your fears, then why can’t you love yourself?”

Her voice softened again, her words full of warmth. “You are more than worthy of love, Dorian. And I know it’s hard, but you have to start seeing yourself the way we see you. As a good man. A man who is deserving of everything he’s given to others. You’re not just enough—you’re more than enough.”

She leaned forward, her forehead gently resting against his. “Please, believe in yourself the way we all believe in you. You deserve to be free of this pain. You deserve to be loved, Dorian. Especially by yourself.”

Celeste took the little baby bundle from Dorian, who kissed the child before Celeste left the garden. Dorian could hear his child cry as they left, but the crying was soon muffled as they turned the corner.

Dorian sat there, thinking of her words. I am enough. I am good enough for all of those women to love and to care about. His self reflection didn’t stop at the garden, he left there and started to move about the castle, processing his thoughts. Do they really love me? The question echoed in his mind, gnawing at him. Celeste’s words were still fresh, and as much as he wanted to believe them, the doubt crept back in. I’ve been the beast for so long. How do I see myself as anything else? He glanced at his hands, still large and clawed, reminders of what he thought made him unlovable.