Double Your Pleasure Bundle (76 page)

But deep down, Angie knew she didn't want to be taken. She knew that her parents, older and wiser than she, would fight their enemies to protect her, whatever the cost. They'd kept her safe this whole time. They're rocked her back to sleep when she had nightmares, replaced her sheets when she tore them to shreds, told her she was beautiful when she found tufts of fur beneath her pillow and claw marks in her headboard. With all those memories flooding her, she felt very young and far away somehow. 

All Darren wanted was to take her on a date. She didn't even know if she liked him yet, but he suffered for his curiosity, and she should have known he would. 

"Why not?" She'd asked when her dad unexpectedly went berserk at her when she announced that she’s going to dinner with a boy from college. "I know I'm different, but he doesn't know that!"

Her mom stood beside her dad, shaking her head sadly. Angie implored her to reconsider, but to no avail. 

"It's not up to us,” her dad eventually explained, after he calmed down enough to realize his daughter needed explanations instead of orders. “If the Uncles find out, look... we just want you to
live
. We're lucky we made it this far."

Angie was even more confused than before, but when her father said he'd think about it, she took him at his word. She was so stupid. Three people dead for even talking about one lousy date, and here she was, in the middle of nowhere and eighteen years old, a virgin, and so hopelessly alone she was suddenly sure she'd start crying. She never should have given Darren her number. They must have smelled her on that piece of paper. That was how they found him... 

Jed seemed to sense her grief and quietly leaned over to turn on the radio. The sound of a slide guitar trickled through the cab, and Angie let the tune take her thoughts away. Before long, she was humming along, then singing. Jed, his low baritone burbling, took the lower harmonies, and the two of them sang away the remaining miles to the garage.

* * *

A swinging iron sign said "Brothers’ Garage" in dingy fading paint, and the gasoline pumps sported patches of rust glossed over with fire-engine red paint. The rest of the building looked like something from Thomas Kinkade: all rosy glowing sunbeams and richly polished wood, the living mural of idyllic purple mountains providing the backdrop, five-hundred year old oak trees framing it on either side. Angie caught her breath mid-song when she saw the fluted awnings and thick heavy logs of the adjacent dwelling, and the curling spire of smoke treading upward from a hidden chimney. It was just like the painting her mom hung above her bed, the one she'd painted herself. 

Jed killed the engine, and Angie noticed a man with an oily rag tossed over his shoulder sauntering out of the open garage door. An old Buick was hoisted up in the depths of the building, and another figure was visible inside tinkering with it. 

"Here he comes, this here's Hank,” Jed informed Angie then faced the man approaching them. “Brother Hank!" Jed hollered to the guy as he stood down from the cab. "I want to introduce you to a certain little lady who's new in town. Angie honey, let me help you out of there."

Angie took Jed's hand to step down from the pick-up and was ultimately very glad to have him there as her knees went weak. 

The man, Hank, held out one huge hand, hastily wiped free of grease, and thrust toward her. His eyes were the color of burnt amber, and his lantern jaw was dusted with thick dark whiskers, leading down to the open neck of his denim coverall and proliferating across his impossibly broad chest. He walked with the kind of sureness Angie found irresistible, every step thundering with purpose, a creature of pure control and strength, somehow channelled into bipedal form. He moved with a masculine grace, his tree-trunk legs planting and uprooting, effortless and yet impervious. Everything about him dripped with testosterone and swagger, from the decisive thud of his heavy boots to the pronounced bulging of his groin. The hair on his head was thick and lustrous and came down to his shoulders in ragged chestnut curls. 

Last night, Angie thought Jed must be just about the biggest man she ever saw, but even he looked like a waif compared to the powerfully towering Hank. His roped muscles and rock-steady demeanor made her imagine him slinging that Buick up there all by himself. Then, just adding a good measure to her already confused emotional state, she imagined him picking her up with one hand, while the other...

She shook his hand and tried not to quake as his hand entirely encompassed her own.. 

“Nice to meet you, Brother Hank. I’m Angie Wilder,” she said, blushing red from ear to ear. 

"You can just call me Hank. B-Dub’ya!" Hank called out over his shoulder in a roar that bounced through the cavern below. "Don't be shy, we got a guest!" 

The figure inside the garage set down his bits and pieces and came out into the light. His hair was like the evening sun around his head, starkly opposite to the darkish brown mane that belonged to Hank. Where one had chestnut hair, the other was gold, but they both had the same impenetrable amber-colored eyes. The blond man was as broad and hirsute as the dark one, but his face was wreathed in grins as sheepish as the one Angie was sure she herself was sporting.

She felt ridiculous in this dress with these gigantic men, and wished she could crawl back into the pick-up and go back to Mindy's. But she stood her ground.

The four of them stood there, dazzled and warmed by a ray of sunshine in the forecourt, in complete silence. They all seemed to be frozen, but not unfriendly: as though they were absorbing all the information about each other they could possibly need to know by just breathing the same air. Angie couldn't be sure, but she could swear the three men got a little hairier while she watched them. Could it be...?

"Well boys, Mindy and I thought Angie might be just what you're looking for… down here at the garage. She wandered into town last night, and I know you fellas have been looking for a helping hand around here."

Angie felt both men eyeing her dress, which suddenly felt even smaller and tighter than it did before, and she squirmed under their gaze. She didn't even dare check if she was having her usual effect on these two men, one of whom stared through to her very soul with his stern gaze, while the other melted her heart with his dimples and bashful grin. She wished the ground would swallow her up.

“Is that so?” Hank asked absentmindedly, his thick neck flexing under his beard, and Angie, transfixed by the details of his flesh had a sudden vision which she could only describe to herself as 'information by smell'. She saw in her mind's eye Hank's face puffed with exertion, the veins standing out from his temples and throat, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, and his teeth growing long and hauntingly white. The vision shocked her. Even more so when she looked over at Woodward ("Please, please call me Woody. Woodward sounds like some kind of weakling, don't you think? I don't look like a Woodward, do I?") and had the same vision, his own face even more pained than the wrathful Hank.   

"Reckon better get down to the mill," Jed said after Angie made no reaction to his suggestion: she was too enthralled by the flashes she was seeing of these men. Of course, Jed was no fool. She might not know what was going on just yet, but he could smell her in the air and he knew she'd understand everything soon enough. In the meanwhile, he thought it best just to let nature run its course, and that would need a little privacy.

Eventually, Hank — the more dominant of the two — spoke up. "Sure thing, brother. Sure thing. Hey, we'll let you know about next week. Who knows, maybe we'll be able to go ahead with it after all... "

"Brother Hank, don't be so rude, talkin' about that other business in front of such a lovely guest, like she wasn't even here,” Woody said, but Hank waved him down and continued talking.

"Of course, Brother Woody, but that don't change a thing. Why, I imagine the beautiful Angie here will know all about it soon enough. You don't mind, do you?" Hank turned his gaze to her, and Angie felt like her legs were fusing to the ground. They'd have to carry her in if they kept looking at her with those hungry looks — and she was sure they were strong enough to do it. Brother Woody looked down at her through his thick bangs, the two of them each at least six-foot-four and three feet wide. Oh lordy, was her hair standing on end?

She tossed her long sleek hair, which promptly made Jed retreat back to his truck and drive away, mumbling as he left that he might need to go find Mindy before heading to the yard after all.

Hank grunted and shook his head, then jerked it toward the building with an unmistakeable air of authority. Woody offered her the crook of his arm, and she accepted it, unsure whose style she preferred.  She tried to swallow down the fear she felt inside as they walked into her mother's painting.

Chapter 3

"So when did you find out you're a bear shifter?" Hank asked, the moment they'd all walked through the door and into the warm gloom of the house. 

"Rude, Hank!" Woody breathed, and Hank shrugged in response.

"Rude, direct, whatever you reckon but you know as well as I do: this... 
luscious
young lady is part-bear, if she's anything. No sense beating around the bush."

"I'm so sorry, Angie. Hank can be a little direct but he doesn't mean anything by it."

"And if we left it up to this guy, nothing'd
ever
get said in this town,” Hank snorted, hovering by the desk piled with invoices and car parts. Despite his bluster, he seemed unsure what to do with himself. 

"Angie, honey? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” Woody said quietly, and Hank rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Angie wasn't sure what she wanted to do. If it'd just been Hank there, she'd have been too nervous and intimidated to speak. If it were only Woody, she'd have stayed silent too, comforted by his voice and the lack of pressure. She felt torn, small, and frightened as the two men questioned her.

“I… I never knew the name for it,” she eventually choked out.

"Oh, there are lots of names, but let me guess: you woke up with a two-ton log somehow turned up in your bed, and your parents couldn't keep the secret from you any longer? Or you ate the family cat? Or some other city story?" Hank asked gruffly, his tone impatient but not unkind. 

"A lot of city bears find out the hard way,” Woody explained, motioning to an easy chair for Angie to sit in, fetching cups and cookies from the adjacent kitchen. "Hank here doesn't think bears belong in cities. Admittedly, it doesn't always turn out okay.”

Angie realized for every ounce of Hank's gruffness, Woody had an ounce of obsequiousness. She felt she could make them both happy with honesty, and so she spoke up.

"I guess I ruined too many mattresses not to know something was up. And then when I turned fourteen, well, I realized I hadn't been dreaming. And you're probably right about the city and bears, Hank. I don't think it was safe for me there. Maybe it isn't safe for me here either."

"You knew to come here though, didn't you? But how?" Hank was growing more brusque, his voice even lower. He seemed about half a foot taller as he stalked across the room, his skin darkening with fur.

"Hank, get a hold of yourself, now's not the time to get rough." 

"Have you ever seen it before, Angie? Have you seen a man shift?"

"I haven't even seen myself do it. I... I thought it put me in some kind of trance."

"Ha! City bear. You could haul what they
don't
know by convoy,” Hank glowered, the thick hair sprouting on his back, tufting from his coverall, the fabric swelling with his flesh. He gradually transformed, his head practically hitting against the ceiling as his claws sprouted like glossy black harpoons and his amber eyes glinted in the dim light.

Angie's breath caught in her throat and she nearly screamed, but then she looked over at Woody, who scowled at Hank and huffed at him while he knelt and stoked the fire. In the blazing glow, these two huge men (one admittedly more bear now than man, despite his human grumbling) faced off in such a squabbling way, the whole scene looked adorably domestic to Angie. She started giggling uncontrollably despite herself, and the two men turned to her, one face longer and furrier than the other but with the same honey-colored eyes. She was too shocked to say anything, and tears of mirth crested and rolled down her smooth pink cheeks. Hank shrank back down to normal size and looked ashamed as he fumbled for a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—“

"I don’t think she’s scared, Hank,” Woody said softly as he took the handkerchief and gently dried her tears. "You're not as freaked out as we'd have expected from an out-of-towner," he smiled nervously.

Meanwhile, Hank once again in human form, rolled his eyes in a self-deprecating way. "I guess, you're a bear too..." 

"I'm new to all this. I led a pretty sheltered life back home, but... but that's all gone now. And look, if you can explain things to me I've always wanted to know, well it wouldn't be polite of me to refuse, would it? I mean, of course I’m curious. There is so much I don’t understand…”

"Why did you come here?" Hank asked roughly, standing above her chair, his huge arms crossed.  

"I don't know,” she said, her voice catching as she remembered asking her mom over and over, "Why go to Evergreen Heights? Why should I go there?" She felt Woody's huge arm around her shoulder, his hand warm against her back, and she sniveled, just for a moment. When she looked up again at Hank, she saw his face take on a tenderness she'd not yet seen from him. Her own face felt hot. Too hot. The fire burned warm and bright, and Woody's hand was reassuring on her back, his grip undemanding but insistent, and she realized she was leaning into his touch. 

Her eyes followed Hank's expression, and she allowed herself, for the first time since laying eyes on him in the front yard, to let her gaze fall to his waist, noticing the hard shape outlined beneath his clothes. She tilted her head a little to her right, where Woody was perched on the arm of her chair, and she breathed in quickly on sight of his own erection, as strong and pulsing as Hank’s. She bit her lip to stifle a soft moan, and her face burned an even deeper red, the flush spreading across her all-too-exposed chest, the heaving weight of her pink bosom glowing in the light. The air felt charged, and it made heart race with fear and... something even more potent. 

"There's so much I haven't had a chance to learn…” she went on haltingly, "so much I want to discover. Things I've never done. So much I... I..." she whispered, but her voice trailed off. She felt Woody's hand on her back more than ever, and as she faltered he leaned in quietly, slowly, and kissed her deep and full on the mouth. She'd never been kissed before, and the feel of his breath on her face and his tongue against hers was thrilling beyond anything she could imagine. Kissing him back and growing bolder, she didn't resist when Hank's heavy hand seized her breast, but she gasped. 

With a muted groan he pulled aside the straining fabric of her borrowed dress and rolled one pink swollen nipple between his calloused thumb and finger. She felt another hand reach for her other breast, and broke off her lingering kiss to gasp again.

Both men were now crouched beside her, their hands growing even bolder as they gripped and squeezed her breasts, pulling them both out of her dress entirely and getting rougher in their play. She looked into their faces. Hank's expression was like a mask, only his eyes giving away the longing and desire pent up inside. Woody wore a broad grin, his gaze intent on her as he seemed to drink up every inch of her with his look. She saw him sniff the air and grin, then she saw Hank do the same. 

Angie blushed and looked away, but they both sank to their knees, each one now holding a breast in their hands, lowering their puckered lips to kiss them. They nibbled, and eventually, in perfect unison, they each took a nipple in their mouths, suckling firmly, pawing at the soft flesh and making Angie cry out as they ran circles with their tongues, their whiskers nuzzling the soft skin of this beautiful, curvaceous virgin. It was exactly as she'd imagined in the mirror last night, twin heads bobbing, gazing up with total adoration as they contentedly sucked on her. 

"You can’t,” she murmured, fitfully trying to resist. “It's dangerous..."

She couldn't tell whose fingers began to trail first, dancing over her inner thighs and questing between for the source of the throbbing in her. It might have been Hank, who broke off his blissful sucking to murmur:

"You naughty girl, wearing something like this..."

Or it may have been Woody, who broke off his own nuzzling to mutter in a voice thick with lust, “to meet a couple of strangers, with no panties on." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't have—“ she groaned, blushing again. It was unseemly. It wasn't how she was raised.

"Shhhhhhh..." said Hank. Or maybe it was Woody.

Maybe it was both of them at once, as they each returned to suckling a nipple and moaning about her wetness. Angie herself could barely speak, silently urging their probing fingers onward, looking deep into their eyes and wondering how she could repay them for this pleasure. The two of them teased her clit, slipping finger after finger into the aching slickness of her pussy, running their digits across the folds of her lower lips and sending her into spasms with every tickle and press. 

She whimpered as Hank, or Woody, or both, pushed their fingers deeper in her, and she bucked wildly in the chair, her full hips held by sinuous hands, her buttocks kneaded and groped while she, the sweet and innocent virgin, cried out for more. The sheltered darling daughter of doting parents, rocked out an earth shattering orgasm as she was fingered by two strange, enormous men, whose filthy work-clothes could barely contain their massive, engorged phalluses. Two minutes ago, she was untouched by anyone’s hands, human or otherwise, but now... What had become of her? What irresistible sway did these men have over her? 

"Just call us the welcoming committee," Hank grinned for the first time, his fingers damp as he trailed them appreciatively over her body. "But we expect to be paid in kind... say, have you ever sucked a cock before?"

Angie shook her head and bit her lip, her eyes wide with alarm.

"I can’t—“

"Don't scare her, Hank," Woody moaned, and Hank scowled.

"Come on now, she's not scared of us. And a girl's got to learn sometime, doesn't she?"

"Only if you want to, Angie," Woody told her, but the bulging in his groin insisted where his words did not.

"Shut it, Woody. She's still a virgin, ain't she? We've got to find out if she's..." he caught himself and pushed a hand through Angie's thick, wavy hair. His voice became softer, but no less commanding. “Come on, Angie. It's our turn."

The innocent girl, with her proud breasts hanging from her sweat-soaked dress, her pussy so wet it dripped down her thighs, knelt in front of these hulks and watched, moistening her full and love-bitten lips as they struggled to free themselves from the tyranny of zippers and buttons. She wished she could capture that moment, the two of them standing above her, their painfully stiff cocks in hand, their desperate faces begging, pleading for her touch.

"I'll try to please you," she whispered, and gingerly reached for them.

"Just start nice and slow…” murmured Woody.

She held each one at its huge base, her hands straining around their thickness, and remembered how Mindy worked Jed no more than an hour ago, the lesson still fresh in her mind as she raised her mouth to lick first Woody, long and slow, and then Hank. She licked one man from the base to the tip, then the other, staring deep into their eyes as she did, ripples of pleasure waving through her as one moaned especially appreciatively, or the other thrust softly into the air. 

"How did some sweet little virgin learn something like this?" Woody asked, gasping for breath. While Hank, increasingly overcome, just muttered over and over, 'oh you naughty girl'. Encouraged and spurred by their fulsome praise, Angie took each one far down into her throat, opening wide and letting their cries and whimpers lead her actions. She could scarcely believe herself as she did it, but it was too much to resist. 

She realized as she sucked at each man the other responded with the same intense pleasure, encouraging her to keep going as though they were both in her mouth at once. She held them at the same time, always jerking at one as she sucked on the other. She couldn't tell which she liked better: the begging and whimpering she elicited from Woody, or the dominating grunts and insistent demands of Hank as he begged her to go deeper, to suck harder. 

"Oh you naughty girl!" he moaned one last time as he spurted hot jets of cum across her naked breasts, his eyes rolling back, long guttural groans accompanying his ejaculation. Woody, his eyes locked on her and his face changing to an adorable expression which veered on surprise, melted her heart all over again as he unleashed his own orgasm deep in her throat. Hank muttered his encouragement as the last few drips splattered from his own subsiding phallus. 

The fire crackled in the hearth, and the three of them tried to catch their breath. It was still only mid-morning, and already Angie's day was stranger than any she'd ever been through thus far. And better, too.  

* * *

“I know they’re both cute in their own way, but which would you choose if you had to?" Mindy asked, her plucked eyebrows steepled in her forehead as she probed Angie for answers.

Angie needed some air after her unexpected encounter with The Brothers, and after a few hurried excuses and a grateful acceptance of a dish cloth, she burst out of the garage and strode down the curving highway, letting her innate sense of direction bring her back to the diner. Mindy was as happy to see her as she'd always been, hurriedly fetching her a chicken salad sandwich, a pickle, some chips, two sodas, and an ice cream sundae, before taking another convenient break and plopping herself down in the booth opposite her new friend and asking for details about her meeting with the town mechanics.

"Those two are so different, aren't they? Like chalk and cheese. Or rubber or cement,” Angie quipped through her bites.