Protein Shake

by Alexis Angel

  Unfortunately, he’s one piece of shit in a wave of media sewage.

  “Kara! Kara! Do you sleep with both of them at night, or do they have a visitation schedule?”

  “Twelve inches, huh? So would you say your holes are more wrecked, or would you say they’re destroyed?”

  “Kara! Show us your tits again!”

  That guy—the last one—him, I karate chop in the throat so hard he swallows his fucking cigarette.

  “Can’t fight ‘em all, Chase,” Eric says under his breath. He’s shrugging his suit jacket off to drape around Kara’s shoulders and—breaks my fucking heart—she’s curled up beneath it, shielding herself from all the flashing lights.

  This girl is a model, for fuck’s sake. She’s used to photographers, cameras, and candids. But these assholes are a whole new breed of fucked up, and they have no fucking problems making even confident, balls-out, in-your-face Kara Gilmore feel small and attacked.

  “Right,” I say, nodding to Eric.

  We roll out, with me clearing a path and Eric protecting Kara. I put on my best Fuck with me and see where it gets you grimace, and when people don’t fucking move fast enough, I pick them up and chuck them out of our way.

  “We’ve got another problem,” Eric says as we help Kara into the limo waiting for us.

  I follow his gaze and look over the photographers, where—fucking hell—a large group of horny-looking women seems to be congregating, pushing their way past the press and prowling towards us like a bunch of hungry, half-starved lionesses.

  I know it the second Eric points it out.

  Protein fucking Plus.

  Worst fucking idea we’ve ever had.

  Eric slips into the limo after Kara, and I’m just about to follow suit when one particularly ugly, fat little Ron Jeremy-looking son of a bitch has the gall to push forward and shove his camera beneath my arm into Kara’s face.

  “Kara, are you going to get fat again once Miss Sexy Universe is over?” he shouts at my woman. “Still a fatty on the inside, eh?”

  And man, I know I shouldn’t do it.

  I know it’s like, wrong or whatever, depending on what set of fucked up morals you happen to subscribe to.

  And I know it’s only going to end up scoring me a conversation with my parole officer, with a lawsuit breathing down my neck to boot.

  But sometimes in a man’s life, he’s just gotta make a fucking decision.

  Does he choose the high road? Make a good example for all the kiddos out there and turn the other cheek?

  Or does he take the squirrely fucking douchebag who just insulted his woman by the neck and make him eat the few yellowed, crooked-ass teeth the piece of shit has left in his shit-talking mouth?

  “Fucking drive,” I say, getting into the limo and shaking a malformed front tooth out of the place where it’s embedded itself into my knuckle.

  “Chase!” Kara gasps. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, I’m fucking better than okay,” I tell her—and then, yeah, okay. I fucking go for it.

  I grab Kara’s pretty little chin, and I conquer her sweet fuckin’ lips in hard, lingering kiss.

  It’s only when I feel something hot and wet on my lips that I realize she’s fucking crying.

  “Aw, babe,” I say, looking down at her with concern. “It’s okay—fuck those people, they don’t fucking know you, they don’t know your life.”

  “Yellow-bellied bastards,” Eric agrees.

  “I don’t fucking care,” Kara sobs. “I’m done. This is over. I fucking quit.”

  Chapter 28

  Kara

  The fine china from our room service, the decadent spread of cheese, and the wine and fruit should technically comfort me, but…

  They don’t.

  I’m wearing a red satin silk robe that brushes smoothly against my skin. I’m lying in an insanely comfortable bed, sitting atop a cloud of fluffy pillows. The sheets are high-end thread count and feel good on the bare parts of my body.

  I’m in in our lavish hotel suite in Tokyo. Everything about this hotel and the penthouse suite we’re staying in is covered with luxury, sweeping across the board.

  In reality, I should be grateful.

  Instead, I’m fucking falling apart.

  I’m fully aware of the fact that I’m behaving like a spoiled brat or a complete bitch, but inside, I feel like I’m rotting. I’m not used to all this attention and being in the spotlight all the time.

  And that fucking comment. That fucking photographer shoving his fucking camera to my face and calling me fat.

  That took the cake—which, incidentally, is exactly what I want right now.

  As much fucking cake as this body can hold. Death by red velvet. That’s what one shitty comment has reduced me to now.

  I want to quit the pageant. In fact, I’m dead set on it. I feel like my mind is already made up and nothing the guys can tell me is going to sway me or steer my mental direction.

  I fold my arms stubbornly across my chest. Chase has just returned from talking to the police and giving them a statement.

  “What did they say?” I ask as he walks up to me and plants a tender kiss on my forehead in greeting.

  “The photographer won’t be filing any charges,” he says assertively. “But he’ll be needing some extensive dental work.”

  I blow out a relieved puff of air. “Thank God,” I mumble under my breath. “Thank you for protecting me.” I glance up at him with pitiful, tear-filled eyes.

  “Hey…” he whispers softly. “Don’t worry about any of this. None of it’s your fuckin’ fault. If you’re blaming yourself, stop.”

  I scoff and shake my head as the tears roll down my cheeks, salty and bitter. Chase leans in to brush them off, wiping them away with one gentle stroke of his thumb against my skin.

  When his hand is close to my face, it doesn’t take me long to realize that his knuckles are swollen and black, an indication of bruising. The flesh of one knuckle is even bloody and torn where he caught one of the bastard’s gnarly front teeth in it.

  He might be trying to reassure me that I’m not to blame for this little fiasco, but inside, my head is screaming.

  Of course I feel fucking guilty. The guys are always stepping in front of me, defiantly protecting me no matter the costs or the repercussions that will unfold…but we’ll all suffer for those consequences one way or another.

  We only just got here, and I’m ready to go home.

  I’m exhausted. I’m a wreck. This isn’t who I am, and I’m done pretending that it is.

  I’m not a model anymore. I’m not a celebrity. And I’m not Miss Sexy Anything—let alone Miss Sexy USA or Miss Sexy Universe.

  It was nice, and I reveled in it at first, but now it’s consuming me with fatigue—and honestly, I just don’t want to deal with it anymore.

  “I feel like shit.” I heave a dramatic sigh, but it still does nothing to relieve the heavy weight of the world that’s sitting on top of my shoulders.

  “Talk to me, Kara. Tell me what’s wrong.” Chase’s eyebrows furrow with concern.

  He and Eric lean on the edge of the bed, sitting next to me. Their expressions are so genuine with worry that it pushes me into a fresh batch of tears.

  I choke them back and glance up at the ceiling. “I just can’t help but think that none of this would have happened if it weren’t for me.”

  “Not fucking true.” Eric strokes my arm.

  “It is, though. I’m the one who went flaunting our relationship around on national television like that…” I trail off in a shaky voice, then add the real kicker. “I’m the one who let herself get so fucking fat.”

  “You’re not fat, Kara. And even if you were—who the fuck cares?” Eric says soothingly as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “You’re so much more than your appearance, babe. Your hot little body might have gotten you into the pageant, but it’s your fucking heart that the world fell in love with.”

  Even though I�
��m wallowing in these destructive emotions, wading through darkness, their tender touch still sends sensual surges of pleasure up my spine.

  “You guys are just sprouting off what you think I want to hear.” I remain unconvinced even though they appear sincere and I have no reason to doubt them…ever.

  Even as much as I care about them, I’m just not in the mood to listen to their little rant about how I should fuck the press and do what I love.

  I feel terrible for the way they’re caught in the middle of this whirlwind of media bullshit when the root of the problem is my fat ass.

  “Ugh,” I groan and push back into the covers, burrowing my head into the pillows. “I’m so stupid.”

  “Knock it off, Kara. No one’s gonna buy that,” Eric says adamantly. “You’re fucking brilliant, and anyone with half a brain can see that. You want us to shower you in fucking compliments, all you need to do is ask.”

  “Fuckin’ hot, too,” Chase says. “Press is just trying to get under your skin.”

  “That’s just it, though, isn’t it?” I say, staring at my hands. “Thanks for always trying to cheer me up…but like, fuck. They can see right fucking through me, guys. They know what a fucking faker I am now—I might be fit on the outside, but I’m always going to be the same fat ass who lost her modeling contract on the inside.”

  “Kara—” Chase starts.

  “No, fucking seriously!” I say, slamming my fist against the bed. “You think any of the other contestants are getting this kind of shit? I’m a fucking heyday for the press, and everyone knows it. I can imagine the fucking headlines now—‘American Fatty Takes Two Cocks At Once!’ It’s not just photographers, either. There were women in that crowd who looked like they wanted to kill me just for being fucking near you. What the fuck was that about?”

  “Actually,” Eric begins. “About that, Kara. There’s something we need to tell you. Protein Plus—”

  “Fuck Protein Plus,” I state firmly.

  “Seriously, Kara,” Chase says. “We need to fucking discuss this with you now, before—”

  “Look, guys, I love the shakes, too, and everything, but I’m not really in the fucking mood right now, okay?”

  Ignoring them, I decide I want to eat my feelings and barrel through a hefty portion of calories like it’s water.

  “I’m ordering room service. Pizza, burgers, fries, the works,” I announce boldly as I pick up my phone to dial downstairs.

  “Don’t do that.” Eric rushes to my side and tries to remove the phone from my death grip.

  “I’m eating until I pack the pounds back on,” I tell them. “The press wants a fatty—I’ll give them one.”

  “That’s fuckin’ stupid, and you know it,” Chase says and gives me a pity glance.

  “Well, I’m a fucking idiot, so I guess that makes sense, huh?” I shrug as if I’m unscathed.

  “Don’t plummet into this self-destructive bullshit,” Chase says sternly.

  “How do you feel when you look in the mirror?” Eric asks me.

  I laugh. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Just answer me.” His eyes are steel.

  I sigh dramatically. “I feel great when I look in the mirror,” I confess. “I feel proud, sexy, muscular, and strong.”

  Eric and Chase have fire in their eyes.

  “Fucking exactly,” Chase says.

  “Nothing that shitbag photographer says is going to change that,” Eric adds.

  “Yeah, okay, I know what you’re trying to do,” I quip back. “You said it yourself though…that every now and then I can treat myself to an indulgence. Well, I’m fucking indulging, baby.”

  “Not like this,” Eric says. “There’s a time and a place, and your emotional state doesn’t reflect that stability right now.”

  “Yeah, well, fuck stability,” I say, fucking determined as ever.

  “You’ve worked so fuckin’ hard, Kara,” Chase says. “Don’t throw it all away because of one bad day.”

  I plop down on a chair in the room and contemplate whether I should heed their advice or protest by defying them.

  I stare at the floor, at my tanned and toned legs. I didn’t come this far to bow out, but I’m angry.

  Come here,” Eric says, grabbing my arm. “I know what will fix this once and for all.”

  I narrow my eyes…but like, fuck, babes. He’s so fucking sexy when he gets all commanding like this…you’d follow him to the bed, too.

  “You want to fucking binge?” Eric says, unbuckling his belt. “We’ll give you something to fucking binge on, then.”

  “Low cal,” Chase adds, unbuckling his own belt. “High in protein, too.”

  “So tell me, Kara,” Eric says. “Do you fucking want it?”

  My eyes slide back and forth across their bodies, thinking about it.

  Fuck. They’re hot. They’re way too fucking hot.

  I can always have a cheeseburger after, I guess.

  I lay back on the bed and feel them moving in on me, undressing themselves as they go.

  “Give it to me, then.”

  Chapter 29

  Kara

  If I was looking for a snack, these guys are way more than a mouthful.

  Chase comes up behind me on the bed, pulling my wrists upwards and holding them in place. His cock rests over my shoulder, getting longer and harder and thicker by the minute.

  I want to fucking suck it. I want to take it into my mouth and forget about everything else—everything that’s upset me today and how frustrated I am that my sexy new body has started causing so many fucking problems for me.

  I can’t decide what was worse: the way that people treated me when I was fat, or the way people treat me now that I’m fit and hot and conform to their ideals of beauty.

  When I was fat, people just had the decency to ignore me. At worst, they’d shoot me dirty looks like I was taking up too much space.

  But now that I’m fit and curvy in all the right places (but none of the wrong ones), I’m seeing the world in a different light. I’m getting way too much attention, and if I have to relive the day I’ve had today, I would honestly rather gain all the weight back.

  It’s a hard to take body image off your mind—especially when two sexy men are currently relieving you of your silk robe and stripping you naked so they can use you for their pleasure.

  Part of me feels like I’ll never give pleasure to anyone. The words that the paparazzo said to me are still fresh in my mind—and maybe he’s right. Maybe I am still fat on the inside.

  But another part of me—the more desperate, visceral, present part—knows that I want all the dick I can get right now.

  There’s nothing worse than being too deep into your own thoughts, after all.

  I’d rather have something else too deep into my body instead.

  One cock or two—I don’t mind, as long as they belong to my men.

  I turn my head to kiss Chase’s cock as it throbs against my shoulder. Meanwhile, Eric moves between my thighs.

  “Spread them fucking wide for me, Kara,” Eric says, running his hands up and down the thin skin on my inner thighs. Every time he slides his hands up my body, my pussy throbs faster and faster in hopefulness. Every time he moves his away, my pussy aches for his fingers to come closer next time.

  But while Eric has set out to tease me and make me beg for him, Chase isn’t nearly so patient of a man. As my lips find his dick, he grabs my hair and forces my mouth against his cock.

  “That’s right, Kara,” he growls. “Suck on it. Lick my fucking cock, you saucy little whore. You want something to eat? I’ll feed you my fuckin’ cum and we’ll see how hungry you are then.”

  “We’ve got big fucking loads ready for you, Kara,” Eric says, dipping his lips to my pussy and kissing my cunt up and down. “All you have to do is beg.”

  “Beg…and fucking take it,” Chase adds, rubbing his cock all over my fucking face.

  Eric’s lips are surprisingly cool a
gainst my hot, slick cunt. I think maybe my body temperature is burning so hot everything else feels cold in comparison.

  But I bet his cock is hot. I bet his cock is as fucking hot as they come.

  And when he comes inside me…

  I shiver, focusing my attention back up to Chase’s cock.

  I’m laying my kisses on every inch of Chase’s huge, fat 12-inch meat mountain that I can get at. He’s thrusting it up and down my shoulder, almost like he’s sizing up my neck for how deep he might be able to go.

  I’m suddenly reminded of another story about a hungry fucking snake—a python that got out in the middle of the night and laid in bed next to its unsuspecting owner come morning. When the woman asked the vet why it had done that, the veterinarian told her the unseemly truth—the python was sizing her up to see if she was too big to eat.

  That’s what it feels like Chase is doing to my throat right now. Rubbing his own big, thick python up and down the length of my neck, seeing where his cock will land if he fucks my mouth and wondering if I’ll be able to take him the way he needs me to right now.

  I think we can all feel it, the desperation. I can feel it in the way Eric’s mouth pushes between the lips of my pussy, laying wet, hard kisses against my clit. I can feel it in the way Chase dips down to squeeze my nipples, twisting them and pulling them for his pleasure.

  “You like that, Kara?” Chase asks.

  “Of course she fucking likes it,” Eric snarls back. “You’re a hungry little whore, aren’t you, Kara?”

  “Hungry little whore,” I repeat eagerly. “Yep. Definitely. That’s me.”

  I open my mouth for Chase and spread my legs wider for Eric. I like to think that they’ll both claim me at once. One fucking my mouth, one fucking my cunt.

  I want these men to fucking skewer me with their cocks. I’ll be a hot little piece of meat to them, and they can satisfy all our hungers, all at once.

  I want them to baste me with their fucking cum while I burn with pleasure and melt in their arms.

  Chase makes his move first. He positions his thighs over my face, straddling me, until I’m kissing and licking at his balls like the desperate whore I am.