The Alpha Men's Secret Club: A Scorchingly Hot BBW Shifter Romance (4 page)

8

Kate gasped, and Thomas turned. Carlo
broke himself away from the daisy chain. His cock was still very wet from being
fellated.

Carlo came over, smiling. His
chin glistened with pussy creams.

“Kate,” he said. “What a pleasant
surprise.”

He knew her name! She didn’t
think he did.

“I – ” She clammed up, not
knowing what to say.

“How did you find this place?”
Carlo said.

Thomas cut in, “You know her?”

“Yeah. She’s in my college.”

“I saw her first.”

“I know.” Carlo looked her up and
down. “Amazing. I didn’t know you had a body like that, Kate.”

I didn’t know you were into
anything but your books, Kate wanted to say, but her tongue was still frozen.
She took in Carlo’s glorious body, so toned and bronzed, and very erect cock. Her
throat went ever so dry. Next to the Professor, she wouldn’t mind having Carlo.

Carlo said, “Say, Thomas . . .
when you’re through with her, I’ll take her.”

Kate found her voice. “I’m not a
piece of meat to be passed around.”

Both men were amused.

“Oooh,” Carlo said, “little
kitty’s got claws. I like.”

“Then again, I’m up for a little
three-way,” Thomas said, licking his lower lip.

The thought didn’t exactly turn
Kate off. Nor did it excite her. Here she was, being desired by two perfectly
attractive men in their prime. And yet, something was missing. She knew what it
was.

Rust O’Brien. She wanted
him
.
She came here for him. Second best wouldn’t do.

Both men crowded around her,
giving her no space. Their eyes were bright and glittering. Carlo’s hand snaked
out to cup her right breast, while Thomas lifted her taffeta skirt. Too late,
Kate remembered she was wearing crotchless panties.

“Oh!” she yelped.

But Thomas had grabbed her naked pussy.
His palm compressed her swollen clit, and a shocked pleasure lanced through her
groin.

Then both men were pawing her all
over. Pressing her against the wall. The stone slabs on the wall were cold to
her bare skin. Hands groped and squeezed her breasts, her nipples. Fingers
pried into her pussy hole – that betraying wetness which flooded the
orifice – and delved into her secret grooves. The pleasure swarmed her,
even though she fought against it.

“Turn her around,” Carlo said
hungrily.

This awoke all her defenses.

“No,” she cried even as Thomas grabbed
her shoulder and pirouetted her so that her face and breasts were now against
the wall. Hands grabbed her soft buttocks. Fingers stubbed her anus.

A growl behind her made her turn.

The tiger sprang at Thomas, who instantly
struck its paw away. But the tiger was huge. It floored Thomas with one leap.
Kate screamed. In the pandemonium, she almost didn’t hear Carlo cry out: “Stop!
We didn’t mean anything by it!”

Then something miraculous
happened. Thomas’s limbs began to change. For one instant, he was a man. Then
his bones sort of crumpled and rearranged themselves, as did his entire body
and limbs. His skull lengthened and sharpened, and his skin sprouted fur. His
body slipped out of his confining clothes.

Kate was as fascinated as she was
aghast. She had watched the movies, heard the whispered legends – but she
was seeing it happen before her in real life.

Thomas was a shapeshifter.

It all happened in the matter of
seconds, and in a blink, a large red wolf lay in place of Thomas, its body
pinned to the ground by the tiger, who was still growling menacingly. The rest
of the revelers in the room had paused in their lovemaking to watch what would
happen. They were concerned, Kate thought, but not unduly alarmed, as if they
were used to seeing this kind of thing happen all the time.

She realized now that all the
animals outside which she had mistaken for exotic pets were probably
shapeshifters too. Was it possible? Earlier, she would have refuted the
possibility, but now . . . the evidence was right before her very eyes.

Her stomach flipped, but not in a
‘I’m nauseated because this is too incredible’ way. But it was more like she
was amazed in a ‘I can’t believe I’m part of this’ way.

“No!” Carlo cried. “Don’t hurt
him!”

The tiger swung its magnificent
head and snapped at Carlo. It was as if to say:
You too are not devoid of
sin.

“What’s all this?” roared a voice
at the doorway.

Everyone turned, even the tiger.

A tall, gaunt man stood at the
doorway. He wore black clothes, and he reminded Kate of an undertaker, or what
she thought undertakers would resemble in her fevered and clichéd
impressionable mind.

“What’s going on?” the tall man
repeated. He glared at the tiger. “Russell, you may be the last of your kind,
but you have no right to violate the rules of this place.”

Russell?

Kate was too terrified to make
the connection at first, but the tiger began to metamorphose before her very
eyes. Its limbs became more slender and its gorgeous fur shrank into its skin. Its
torso became leaner and more golden. Fur into flesh. Paws into hands and feet. A
tail that was drawn back into its vestigial stump between man’s fleshy
buttocks. What was large became something narrower, but longer. Limbs sprawling
outward, not downward.

What emerged was a completely
naked and muscled but very human Rust O’Brien, who was perched on all fours
with his left hand upon the belly of the red wolf which had been Thomas.

Rust got to his feet, and Kate’s
throat flowered with a lump.

Naked, Rust was more magnificent
than she imagined. His skin was a clear golden in the flickering light and his
eyes were very green. But his body – oh! His chest was broad and his arms
were nicely sculptured, but not overly so like a bodybuilder’s. His muscles
looked impossibly tight under his skin. His waist was slender, and a trail of
dark fur ran from his belly button to his pubis. His legs . . . his thighs . .
. every part of him was incredibly, overwhelmingly sexy. He made her legs go
weak.

His genitals.

She dare not gaze at his genitals.
He was like Michelangelo’s David. His dormant cock hung against his balls. She
didn’t want to imagine what she could do to that cock.

His beauty almost made her forget
who and
what
he was. He was a shapeshifter. They were all shapeshifters.
She understood that now. She should be afraid, and yet, she wasn’t afraid. She
should be struck with terror, and yet she was struck with wonder. Spellbinding,
absolute wonder.

The red wolf shifted back. They
were all men again. Thankfully. Thomas glowered as he too got to his feet. They
all stood naked before the Undertaker.

“He started it,” Thomas snapped.

“You tried to rape her,” Rust
snarled back.

“I didn’t rape her. She knew what
she was in for. She wanted it!”

They all swung their attention to
Kate, who cringed against the wall.

“Were you playing coy, girl?” the
Undertaker said. She didn’t know his name, and so she decided to call him the
Undertaker for now.

Kate’s tongue froze. It was a
moment of indecision.

She found her tongue. “I-I don’t
want to get anyone into trouble.” She sensed that trouble would find her if she
did with creatures such as these.

“Just answer the question, girl,”
the Undertaker thundered.

The air around her was heated.
Everyone in the room was looking at her, waiting to hear what she would say.
She sensed that if she said the wrong thing, she would condemn someone. And yet
. . . she did say ‘no’.

She said, “I . . . don’t think
I’m ready for . . . what they proposed to do to me. B-but I’m not angry or
anything. I’m not pressing any charges.” Her cheeks burned. Where did she think
she was? In a police station?

Everyone visibly calmed down. Or
at least, it had gone from Defcon One to Defcon Two. Perhaps it was the right
thing to say after all.

The Undertaker said, “You clearly
don’t belong here, girl. Would you like to go home?”

Everyone paused again, waiting
for her answer. Rust’s eyes glinted. She couldn’t read his expression. Did he
look hopeful? Did he want her to stay or go? Did he even know who she was? He
did have a penchant for not knowing his students’ names after all. But Carlo
was here. Surely he knew who Carlo was.

Both Thomas and Carlo seemed
discomfited by the whole thing. Their cocks had turned flaccid. Their ardor had
been obviously cooled. Her blood was still overheated by the whole incident, however,
and the attentions of so many attractive men made her heady and a little
reckless.

Kate said, “No, I wouldn’t like
to go home. I’d like to stay, please.”

Smiles curled on some of the
revelers’ lips. She knew what they were thinking, and she flushed.
Slut
.
She was playing hard to get.

“But – ” Kate quickly
added, “I want to go with him.”

She pointed at Rust, who did not
seem surprised.

Titters and murmurs filled the
room. Thomas and Carlo did not look pleased.

Rust drew himself to his full
height. He was easily six foot two, she thought.

“Are you sure?” he said with a
hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Kate swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then she is yours,” the
Undertaker pronounced. “Take her and do with her what you wish.”

Do with her what you wish
.
Uh . . . Kate wondered if she had made a mistake. She didn’t sign up for that,
or did she?

It was too late though. Rust held
out his hand.

“Come,” he said simply,
commandingly.

Transfixed by his spell, she took
his hand. He was so tall that she had to crane her neck up to look at him. She
could not take her eyes off him. He mesmerized her, sapped every ounce of her
willpower.

His beautiful green eyes burned
as they took her in. His hand was warm.

Without another word, he led her
out of the room.

9

Rust led her down the corridor
and down a flight of stairs. They were descending to the bowels of the Earth,
she sensed. Her heart was beating wildly behind her exposed breasts. She had no
time to conceal them. But she should not think of concealment when he himself
was proud and naked beside her.

This was certainly a fantasy of
hers – to be with a naked Rust O’Brien. But she certainly hadn’t expected
it to be in a scenario such as this one. They passed a few half-dressed people.
More wolves and foxes, who sized her up with their glittering eyes.

Then finally, they reached a
chamber.

“Get in,” he said roughly.

She was more than a little scared
of his anger as she stumbled into the room. Her heels threatened to trip her
up, but she remained on her feet thankfully. She would be mortified and
extremely embarrassed if she fell flat on her face in front of him.

Rust slammed the door behind him.

“What do you think you’re playing
at?” he demanded as he rounded up on her.

She faltered. The room was a
standard one, almost like a hotel room. There was a bed, a desk, a dresser,
some closets. Was this his private room?

“I’m not playing at anything,”
she said bravely.

He stared at her flushed face.
Her breasts. Belatedly, she tried to tuck them into her bra cups, but it wasn’t
easy. The cups were too small and even Rita had required some expertise to ease
her large tits into them.

“Don’t bother doing that,” he
said.

Her trembling hands paused. What
did he mean, exactly?

He took two strides towards her. She
tensed. She should be afraid of him, really. He was so intense, and he was a
shapeshifter. He was an exotic paranormal being. She should run out of here and
never look back, and yet . . . she was strangely excited. More excited than she
had ever been in her brief life.

Her pussy clenched, contracting
painfully. Contracting with want, with need.

He seized her arms. Her breasts
heaved. Oh, she so badly wanted him to touch them. He did not disappoint her.
He grabbed them – those sleek, big globes of flesh. His grip was painful,
and so tears came into her eyes. He was touching her – her Professor. The
man she desired more than anyone else in the world. She was elated,
exhilarated, terrified and in the height of anticipation all at the same time.

She could only stare into his
lovely green eyes as his hands kneaded her breasts, tweaked her nipples. Blood
rushed into her areolas, giving them a red tinge.

“Is this want you want?” Hs voice
was still harsh. There was glittering desire in his eyes, nevertheless. And
conflict. Why was he conflicted? Because she was his student?

Did he even know who she was
– the wallflower who stood in the fringes of his crowd, who never said a
word? She was confused and unsure. His words suggested he had an inkling of who
she was, and yet, she still wasn’t sure. She could only play this out.

“Y-yes,” she gasped.

He continued to rub her nipples
slowly. Back and forth. Bringing the blood into them. Plumping them so that
they were lush and protuberant.

Then he pushed her back, and she
fell onto the bed.

“Off with your clothes,” he said.

He did not wait for her to obey. He
fell onto her and started to rip her bodice. The sound of tearing filled the
air. No man had ever wanted her this way before. She was no virgin, of course.
She had been fucked by two boys in high school before – sticky gropings
under the bleachers and in the janitor’s closet.

But not like this. Definitely not
like this.

She let him tear away the taffeta
skirt. She didn’t know fabric could rip like that. She’d always thought it was
the stuff of storybooks. He flung the offending pieces of contrasting material
– taffeta and latex – onto the floor. Now only her garters and
stockings and crotchless panties remained. Her betraying pussy was wet. She
wondered if he could see the wetness, the creams pooling at her hole, running
down the thin membrane separating her vulva and her anus.

He gazed down at her again,
taking every part of her body in – her heaving breasts, large and voluminous,
her newly shaved pussy. Her pussy leaves were colored a blush of deep pink, and
her clit peeked out shyly.

Her thighs were together, and he
forced them apart with his hands. Now there was no hiding her lust. She could
not take her eyes off his beautiful face as he prized her labia apart and
rubbed her clit. She almost came right then and there as her fleshy morsel was
teased, prodded and squeezed by his insistent fingers.

Then he stubbed two of his
fingers into her vagina. The movement was so swift and sudden than she cried
out.

“You’re not a virgin,” he said,
exploring her wet canal. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her pussy. His fingers explored
her walls, her depth, going in as deep as they could.

“No,” she squeaked.

“How far do you want to go?” he
demanded. His fingers went in deeper, and his knuckles bunched, widening her
tunnel.

Now she was afraid. She didn’t
know what he meant.

How far do you want to go?

He was a shifter. She was
clueless as to how far they went. She didn’t know the sexual practices of
shifters. She didn’t know what they did in this club. For all she knew, he might
devour her after the act. But then, if she left now, she would never know what
could be possible.

She found her voice saying, “As
far as you want to take it.”

Her heart slammed painfully
against her ribs.

Ba-dup.

Ba-dup.

Ba-dup.

He half-smiled, his beautifully
shaped lips curling. Then his knuckles curled within her pussy. He inserted
another finger and yet another. Each one adding to the bloat . . . and more,
and more. Walls being pushed outward and backward and forward and outward
again. Until all four of his fingers were inside her tight, tight passage,
which was being stretched to its maximum.

It was all she could do to spread
her thighs as wide as they could possibly go so that his hand could go in. Her
head tipped backward and she had to hold every ounce of her breath so that her
pelvis could expand.

It was the only way her engorged pussy
could take his entire hand.

Ohhhhh!

He fisted her, and the pleasure
and pain both engulfed every part of her groin.

She cried out, and her screams
pierced the air. Her own fists grabbed the bed sheets.
As far as you want to
take it
. Sexually, she has never been this far before.

And then, as suddenly as he had
begun, he stopped. His fist exited her swollen tunnel, and a gush of her pussy
creams spilled forth. Her pussy walls contracted, and the relief from the
pressure of his fist was immediate. At the same time, her groin felt a sense of
loss.

She wanted his hand back where it
was.

“Oh!” she cried. “Oh, oh, oh!”

He watched her face amusedly. She
could see him out of her slitted eyes. He watched the juices flow out of her
pussy and stain the swollen area of her perineum, dripping down to the bed.

His creamed fist darted up and
grabbed her right tit. He smeared her own creams onto her breasts, her nipples
and her belly so that she was coated with her own lust. His act seemed almost
Biblical in its connotation.

She wanted him to fuck her so
bad. She wanted his long, thick cock inside her pussy where his fist had been.

But he had other plans.

He got up and off the bed. She
was too winded to do anything but lie there and watch him.

“Don’t move,” he said. “Keep your
legs apart.”

Then he walked away towards the door.
He exited, still naked and not looking back at her.

Her heart was racing a million
miles a second. But she did not dare move. She did not dare close her legs. She
did not dare wipe her own sticky goo from her own breasts, which no longer
seemed as though they belonged to her. She stared at the ceiling and strained
for sounds outside.

Oh, what was she to do?