Alpha's Claim

by 10 Author Anthology

  Standing just outside the garden bed, she stared at the spot where the snake had vanished. She kept seeing it, in her mind’s eye. The vision made every muscle freeze. What if there were more? A mating ball just beyond the bushes? If she came across a writhing heap of snakes, she’d probably faint on the spot. Just imagine dozens of squirming black bodies all emerging from the bushes en masse…

  With a shiver, Racine dropped her trowel and raced backwards, toward the house. When she stepped inside, she took off her gloves and looked at the clock. Quarter to five already? How did that happen?

  Picking up the phone, Racine pressed and held the number three. One was her mother; two was her sister, and three was Lowell. She’d have to figure out how to reprogram her speed dial. No way she’d risk calling him by accident, or giving in to temptation some lonely night, when she started to forget how much she despised him.

  This wasn’t her first break-up. She knew how they went.

  “Racy Racine!” Lowell shouted across the line. “What an honor to see your lovely name on my call display.”

  “Shove it where the sun don’t shine, Lowell.” She picked up her gardening gloves and whacked them against the back door, sending sprays of dirt in all directions. “You said you’d be here between noon and two. It’s almost five. Do you want your stuff or not?”

  Momentary silence. He’d obviously forgotten. “What is it again?”

  The box was sitting by the front door, but she’d memorized its contents. “Two shirts, some underwear, socks, a bunch of papers—”

  “Oh, I need the papers for work.”

  “They’ve been here three years, Lowell. You obviously don’t need them that badly.”

  “What else?”

  She named off the gifts he’d given her over the years—teddy bears and pretty things, all sorts of romantic crap.

  “But those are yours,” he said. “You keep them.”

  “I don’t want your stupid gifts.” Racine over-enunciated every syllable to get the point across. “Maybe you can give them to your wife.”

  Ice. Her heart burned like ice as he said, “Maybe I’ll stop by next week.”

  “Don’t,” she snapped. “I’ve had it, Lowell. Do you know how many hours I’ve spend waiting around for you? Waiting for you to get here, hoping you’ve been held up, worried that maybe you’ve been in some sort of accident. And then I get a text message—not even a phone call, but a text!—that, oh, sorry, you need to stay wherever it is you are for one more night. I’ve been waiting all this time for nothing.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, though it wasn’t very convincing.

  “I don’t care. Sorry doesn’t make it better.”

  “Well what do you want me to do?”

  “Make the last four years go away!” Racine yelled into the phone. She tried to say more, but she could feel that her voice was about to crack, so she closed her eyes and breathed through the tears.

  And then Lowell said, “What we have is special.”

  That brought out the tiger in her, and she shouted, “Had, Lowell. What we had—and I sure wanted to believe I was special to you, but I know better now. I’m not spending even five more minutes waiting around. That part of my life is over. Kiss your stuff goodbye. Tonight it’s going on the bonfire.”

  Hanging up the cordless phone, she slammed it down on the kitchen table and fell into a chair. Her head felt like deadweight. It dropped into her arms as she cried hot tears against her gritty skin. Gardening had gotten her dirtier than she’d realized, and she stormed upstairs, stripping off her T-shirt along the way.

  Racine hated crying in the shower, but what could she do? All week she’d been crying everywhere she went. The girls at work chalked her mood swings up to menopause, and she didn’t bother correcting them. She wasn’t ready to admit her mistakes, yet. Not publicly.

  Christ, and she’d been telling everyone she thought he’d probably propose on her birthday. Fat chance of that happening.

  Was there any woe ice cream couldn’t cure?

  With a tub of chunky chocolate in her lap, Racine watched a marathon of DIY home building shows on TV. When the sun set, she opened the back door and stepped outside in her pajama pants and slippers. The air outdoors felt much warmer than in. Her T-shirt stuck to her skin with as much urgency as the humidity. She peeled it away, but that didn’t help matters.

  The fire pit called to her, and she smiled. She was almost glad Lowell hadn’t shown up to collect his belongings. Burning them would be cathartic.

  Indoors, she changed out of her sweaty T-shirt and into something cooler—a tank top and a summer skirt. She’d never wear this outfit if there was a chance of being seen, but the night was dark and the neighboring yards were far enough away that she wasn’t terribly concerned.

  She dropped more kindling into the box, along with papers that should have gone in the shredder. Fire was a better alternative, and she carried the bundle into the yard, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.

  Pulling up a lawn chair, Racine built a nice little castle of papers. When she struck the match, a sizzling sensation ran up both her arms. Was this a bad idea? Could he sue her for destroying things that were rightfully his?

  Even if he could, he’d never do it. That would just draw attention to their relationship. His wife and kids wouldn’t appreciate that in the least. Or maybe they’d been through it all before.

  She’d really thought she knew Lowell. Nope. She didn’t know him at all.

  The match burned all the way down to her fingers. When it sizzled against her skin, she tossed it on the papers. Nothing happened. With a sigh, she struck another match and set it directly in the center of her kindling. This time the paper caught, going up in glorious flames as Racine tossed Lowell’s personal belongings on the pyre. It wasn’t quite as cathartic as she thought it would be. Actually, burning his things just made her feel sad.

  When she’d set everything he’d given her on fire, the flames mesmerized her. She could watch all night.

  “He didn’t deserve you,” hissed a voice in the back of her head.

  “What about his wife?” Racine asked, mouthing the words. “She didn’t deserve to be cheated on. I’ve done a terrible thing.”

  “But did you know all along?” the voice asked. It sounded more concrete now, more like an actual person than the disembodied voice of her subconscious.

  “Did I know he was married? Of course not. He didn’t let on, not for a second.”

  A presence loomed large, like a shadow devouring the light. She was beginning to feel like she was talking to a person—another human being, with a low, throbbing voice. A man.

  Racine’s muscles froze, though her skin blazed. Quietly, she asked, “Who are you?”

  “How did you find out?” the voice asked, ignoring her question. “If he didn’t tell you he was married, who did?”

  The fire raged before her, snapping like someone had thrown a sheet of birch bark over it. Why had she burned all that paper? She could really use it right now, as a fan. Her skin sizzled against the orange light of the flames. Sweat broke along her brow and across her chest. In moments, she was dripping beneath her arms and her breasts, and also between her legs—enough that her sweat soaked through her clothing.

  Whatever force had been holding her in place could never win out over the strength of this hot flash. She nearly toppled over her chair to get to the garden hose. Cranking the valve open, she sprayed her face. At first, the water ran warm with the day’s heat, but as she blasted her breasts it turned cool. Then cold. Her nipples drew into sharp little buds beneath her stretchy sleeveless top. They grew so hard they hurt, and that pain summoned another sensation deep in her core.

  Lifting her skirt, Racine sprayed her hot thighs with cold water. She should have felt relieved as the cascade washed away a slick layer of sweat. Instead, she felt itchy and anxious. What if Lowell was her final chance at love? What if the last time they’d made love was the last time Racin
e would ever make love? Could she go the rest of her life without feeling a man inside her? From here on in, maybe she’d have to be satisfied with…

  The violent spray of the hose struck directly between her legs. Her bum cheeks reacted first, the muscles seizing violently. Her thighs locked next, and only when her body was mostly in spasm could she really feel the water’s impact on her clit. She felt big and swollen, instantly aroused. If only Lowell were here to get on his knees and dive beneath her skirt. Sure, he was a bastard of industrial proportion, but the tongue on him … oh, could he ever give it. He was so attentive down there. She never had to fake an orgasm, with Lowell.

  “Going back to him is not an option,” said a voice in the darkness.

  As the mysterious man spoke, Racine felt a tickle across her bare foot. When she looked down, a garter snake glided effortlessly across her toes. She screamed, dropping the hose, and the snake went flying when she accidentally kicked it into the air. In the darkness, its black skin shimmered orange with firelight.

  Racine stumbled backwards, tripping over the hose and falling flat. Her wet clothes adhered to her skin like they’d been glued on, but she couldn’t steal her gaze away from the snake caught mid-air. Was it stuck in a spider’s web, or something? How was it doing that, floating there?

  And then, as the lawn held her down, something unbelievable happened. The snake … changed. At first, she couldn’t tell what was going on. It grew bigger, wider, thicker, and as it did so, its form altered considerably. The snake became more than just a snake. It sprouted arms, sprouted legs. The tail remained a tail, of sorts, except it moved to the front and … oh! Racine felt awfully naughty when she realized she was staring unapologetically at a cock.

  Her gaze darted up the man’s form, stumbling over rippling abs and a hard chest. His skin was as dark as could be—even darker than hers—but it lost the characteristic glimmer of a snake’s. Standing before her was a man, no question. A naked man—no question about that, either.

  “What … who…” Racine skittered away from the stranger, her hands and feet slipping against the wet grass. “Is this for real?”

  “More real than anything you’ve ever experienced.” The snake-man picked up her green garden hose and turned off the water. “Would you really go back to him? Just for the sake of physical pleasure?”

  “N-n-no,” Racine stammered. “I wouldn’t. Probably not. I mean, I don’t think I would…”

  “But you’re not sure?” He took another step forward, stretching the garden hose out in front of him.

  The green one wasn’t the hose that most interested Racine, but she trembled as the strange man approached her. “Who are you?”

  “You can call me Boh,” he said, in a voice so raspy and dark it made her quake.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I live here.” In one stealthy move, he lunged at her. Wrapping the hose around her arms, he secured them to her torso.

  Racine hadn’t felt truly afraid until that moment. Her head fell back, but for some reason it didn’t find the ground. As she stared, dazed, into Boh’s brilliant green eyes, she realized his hand was cradling the back of her neck, floating her head gently above the grass.

  “Put me down,” she said, in a whimper.

  His strange snake-like cock pulsed against her thigh as he lowered her to the ground. Her chest swelled with every breath, and she had a suspicion her breasts had grown huge, but she couldn’t look away from the stranger’s face. Was it normal to be so afraid and so aroused at the same time?

  “Will you untie me now?” Racine asked, as casually as if she were asking him to pass the salt.

  “No,” he said, simply.

  “Why … why not?”

  “You’re all wet,” he said, though that didn’t seem like a relevant response. His hands slid down her side, and then back up again, under her skirt.

  The garden hose dug into her arms as she struggled. His fingers found her sopping panties and tugged them down her thighs, but she didn’t struggle against that. As her panties approached her knees, she even learned to like the rubbery hold of the garden hose.

  “Are you going to…?” Racine wasn’t sure how to phrase it. She loved sex, but she always felt bashful talking about it, or asking for it, or even giving a man any indication that she might be aroused. “You’re going to put it in me?”

  “Is that what you want?” the man hissed.

  This was so strange, strange beyond belief. He’d writhed over her foot as a sneaky little garden snake, and she’d been dreadfully afraid. Then, before her very eyes, he’d grown into a man, and not only was she considerably less apprehensive, but she took the transformation in stride. Now that he was pressing his firm, fit body against hers and she couldn’t escape his grasp even if she wanted to, the only thought in her head was, “I hope I’m wet enough for him.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Boh said.

  “I know.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I know.” Racine wanted to convince him so he’d quit wasting time and just take her. But she had to know. She had to ask, “What are you?”

  “What do you think I am?” His teeth glistened. He smiled widely enough to hold her attention as a serpent’s tongue whipped out of his mouth and flickered in front of her.

  “You’re a snake,” she said, wishing that tongue would thrash away at her top until her breasts were bare. “But how did you become…”

  “A man?” He chuckled, and his voice reverberated deeply in Racine’s belly. “We’ve only just met. You must allow me my secrets.”

  She wanted to say, “Why should you get secrets? Seems like you can read my mind.” It also occurred to her that he’d put her in rather a compromising position, but she wasn’t about to complain about that.

  “You really thought your love life would be over without that sleazy Lowell?” Boh asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess so. Maybe.”

  “Let me prove you wrong,” he said, lifting her skirt. “Look.”

  He straddled her thighs, setting his weight down so heavily she couldn’t hope to break free. Her neck ached as she lifted her head, but the strain was worth it to catch sight of what he was about to do to her.

  In the firelight, Boh’s black cock glistened. It was the only part of him that remained as snakeskin after the transformation. Just the sight of it made Racine squirm, but Boh pressed his thighs more firmly against hers to keep her in place.

  What happened next … well, Racine couldn’t believe her eyes. After everything that had already happened that evening, her incredulity amazed even her. She stared unrepentantly as his cock flicked up and down, like a tail—a tail with a bulbous, glistening, big black head.

  Racine shuddered, but Boh said, “It won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you.”

  “But your … thing, your thing, it’s like a … a snake!”

  “I am a snake,” he hissed.

  “Yeah, but your thing,” she stammered. “It’s scary!”

  “Scary?” In his deep, dark voice, Boh said, “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”

  What a crock! Racine squirmed beneath him, but she couldn’t escape. In truth, she didn’t want to.

  “Why are you so afraid?” Boh asked as his serpentine cock wagged. “What are you scared it’ll do?”

  His strange black cock slid between her legs forcefully enough to part her pussy lips. Racine shrieked. “It’ll bite me!”

  “Bite you?” Boh laughed as his dick found traces of wetness and dragged it up to her clit. “What is it going to bite you with? It has no teeth.”

  “It’ll strangle me, then.”

  “But it’s nowhere near your neck.”

  Everything he said was true, and yet she remained afraid for no reason.

  Pressing his big palms down on her shoulders, Boh asked, “What can I do to put you at ease?”

  She glanced at the fire, where huge orange flames kissed the night s
ky. “I don’t want to see it.”

  “Ahh.” He laughed, and she felt glad he wasn’t insulted. “Why don’t you want to see it, Racine?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, and that was the truth. “Something about the way the skin shimmers, and the way it whips around like it’s got a mind of its own. It freaks me out.”

  “What about me?” He pressed down harder on her shoulders. “Do I freak you out?”

  “No,” Racine said. And that was the truth, too.

  “It takes a huge amount of trust to close your eyes to a man you’ve barely met.”

  Racine nodded.

  “It’s most unwise of you.”

  “I know it is. I don’t care.”

  Without warning, Boh rose from her lap, leaving her on the ground as he walked across the yard. He peeked into Lowell’s box. “You burned everything but this?”

  As he held up a silk negligee in the firelight, Racine said, “I just couldn’t. He bought it for me, but it feels so nice against my skin, and it fits like a dream.”

  “You’ll keep it, then.” He swept past the fire and tied the negligee around her head like a blindfold. “We’ll put it to good use.”

  The world glowed warm and red as Boh took his place in her lap. Her body pulsed against the night air, begging for pleasure. She never thought anyone would want her, after Lowell. She was too old, used up.

  But Boh wanted her. If his hissed compliments didn’t make that clear enough, the action of his cock between her legs certainly did.

  “Oh God!” She couldn’t contain herself. “Is your thing … is it licking me?”

  He chuckled, but made no response. The world had gone red, and all she could feel was the garden hose binding her arms to her body, her nipples peaking against the fire-scented air, and that strange, snake-like cock lapping her clit.

  She’d never felt anything like it.

  “Say you want me inside you.” Boh bowed closer to her full, fleshy form.

  “I do,” Racine said. “But not yet. I want more of this first.”

  He seemed pleased that she’d spoken up, and continued nudging her clit with his snakeskin cock. “Does it feel like a tongue?”