Taken by the Beast Shifter

by Alice Crowley

  He kept asking her about her work, which was the last thing Ella wanted to talk about. He kept asking rote, 'getting to know you' questions. And he didn't tease her at all. Why couldn't he understand that Ella wanted to be playfully insulted?

  Far too often, Ella thought, good looks were wasted on bad personality. Absolutely, she would have rather have slept with a man who had a 'dad bod' and was good in bed and made her laugh than a male Adonis with model good looks who didn't know how to do anal right and couldn't lick clit to save his life.

  “Are you okay Ella?” Brad asked, after describing to her how he was waiting to hear back about a promotion to upper management at his company. “Maybe you should slow down on the wines.”

  She'd already forgotten the name of the company, and he'd told her only a few minutes before.

  Ella was feeling frisky. And damn Brad for not picking up on that. She wanted to fuck. But he seemed to want her to be a dainty, sexless, virginal mother Mary type.

  “I need to pee,” Ella said, scooting her chair back. “In the bathroom.”

  Brad nodded.

  “Okay, sure. I'll wait here for you,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  She stood, then turned and walked across the bar to the back where the restrooms were. It was looking like it was going to be a boring night. Brad seemed like he was looking for a wife, which was fine. But Ella wanted to fuck on the first date before deciding that she wanted to invest time and energy into a relationship with him.

  This was modernity, this was late stage capitalism. There just wasn't any fucking time to practice outmoded models of courtship anymore.

  Being a historian, especially because of that, Ella understood that traditional morals had fallen away because they just.

  Didn't.

  Work.

  8.

  The

  Scent

  Of

  A Woman

  When Michael woke up, he didn't know where he was at first. He didn't remember who he was, either. Not to mention how and why.

  The first thing Michael noticed, before he could even remember his own name or his past, was the smells. The scent of the environment he was in told him all the information he needed to know.

  There was the blood bag. Yes, next to him was an empty bag of blood. He smelled it, but somehow he just knew it wasn't human blood in that pouch. How the hell could he have known that?

  Yet somehow, he recognized the blood as not human. As of yet he did not know what kind of blood it was, though. He didn't recognize where the blood had come from.

  Michael's flaring nostrils also picked up on the aroma of bleach and cleaning supplies. This was understandable, considering he was in an operating room. His nose, somehow, picked up all this information before he even opened his eyes, a moment later.

  It was as if his sense of smell could paint visual pictures in his mind. And it was a marvelous feeling.

  There was one more scent, too. It was the scent of Dr. Hutchins. It was the scent of her body, of her crotch, of her secretions. She smelled ripe, fresh, with a hint of fertile muskiness. The scent seemed distant though, not immediate.

  Scents of the two male doctors assisting Hutchins, too, seemed far away.

  When Michael's eyes were open only a half a second after his nose picked up this wealth of data, he saw that the reason Dr. Hutchin's pussy smelled distant was because Michael was now alone in the operating room at that strange, governmental facility.

  There was something else that was so much slower for Michael to notice than what his suddenly enhanced smell could discern.

  When his eyes were open, he also noticed that he was now completely restrained. His arms and ankles and chest and forehead were all shackled to the gurney securely.

  And that was when Michael began to grow enraged.

  9.

  “Take

  my

  pussy!”

  Inside the restroom of the bar on Kirkwood Avenue, it quickly became evident that Ella was having a lot less fun than someone else, that evening. As Ella went to the sink to wash her hands before she pissed, she heard a couple in one of the bathroom stalls.

  Fucking hard.

  It was a man and a woman and apparently they were enjoying themselves in there. When Ella had first walked in, they were quiet, but now they seemed to get louder, as if they were trying to hide it at first but then decided not to give a shit about publicly broadcasting their deep thrusting session in a public place.

  “Yes baby,” the woman said out loud, as Ella could hear the couple's flesh slapping together with increasing momentum. “Take my pussy hard baby!”

  The walls of the stall they were in were rattling and shaking. The man was grunting deep and low as he took the woman's cunt hard as she told him too.

  Fucking in a public place. Now that was something Ella had never done. She'd never been taken like the woman was being taken, really dominated by a big, hungry, virile alpha.

  Ella shook her head. She really head to pee, too. And there were only two stalls, which would have meant she needed to empty her bladder next door to the two who seemed to be turned on by penetrating and swapping fluids in one of the dirtiest places they could find.

  The same place where people pissed and shit and wiped their asses.

  Kinda' fucking hot, Ella thought. Why didn't Brad follow me in here and fuck me?

  Brad wanted to. Ella knew it. Every man almost would take the opportunity for a quick hot fuck like the stall rattling hump action that was occurring in that bar bathroom.

  Every red-blooded man, that is.

  “Will you two stop long enough for me to piss in peace and quiet?” Ella said, turning away from the mirror above the sink and looking towards the stalls. “Can't a girl release herself without having to listen to you dirty fuckers?”

  “Oh shit yeah in me so good,” the woman exclaimed as the man kept jack hammering on her genitals. “Put it in me deep and so damn good baby!”

  The rattling intensity of the walls of the rickety stall didn't let up. Instead the racket increased.

  It was no use.

  And the selfish bastards didn't even invite Ella to join in.

  10.

  He

  Was

  Bigger

  Memories of his former, weak, pitiful human self started to creep back in to Michael's mind as it dawned on him that he might never be the same again. He had always been a strapping, athletic man – up until he came down with the cancer.

  Michael had always known he was a hunk, and that was why other women from neighboring farms came over to sneak into the barn with him to bend over bales of hay.

  But now, now Michael was bigger. He was better.

  Everything was enhanced, due to whatever the treatment was that Dr. Hutchins and the others had given their willing subject.

  He could still smell her, that pretty doctor. Michael could still smell that she was near.

  He could smell a lot of people, but her especially. Perhaps it was because she was familiar to him, perhaps it was because she was what he'd been desiring before he agreed to her offer of an experimental cancer treatment for his lymphomas.

  Michael wanted to yell, for help. All of a sudden he became scared.

  He was afraid of what he had become.

  He was afraid of what he was capable of.

  He did yell, or he tried to, at least.

  But when he opened his mouth, it was a loud growl that emitted from his vocal chords, instead.

  It surprised Michael, that sound he bellowed.

  And it surprised him even more that when he yanked on his restraints, they came free as if they were mere strands of sewing thread.

  As the restraints ripped out, breaking leather, metal, and fabric, a shrill alarm went off. It was not a typical alarm, either. It was much more high pitched, almost like a dog whistle or something.

  Michael leaped up to his feet, nimble, fast, forceful. That incessant high pitched alarm was driving
him mad now. He seethed with anger. He was angry at the noise and angry at what they had done to him, even though he consented to it.

  With two long bounds he crossed the room, knocking over an extra gurney on the way, before arriving at the door. Reaching for it, he yanked it open, and the bolt in it snapped free with some effort.

  The hallway outside was full of guards waiting for him with stun guns and tranquilizer darts. Without hesitation Michael ran into the fray, even as his skin stung and the voltage of the non-lethal weapons sank into his body.

  He shredded them. He bashed them, scratched them, sent two of them hurling against the wall. Their petty weapons were nothing. The doctors at this place had unleashed the beast – more of a beast than they could have even imagined.

  The alarm, though, made Michael's brain feel like it was boiling. The alarm, the alarm. The tranquilizers in his system slowed him only slightly but that alarm was like the siren of a harpy.

  And so Michael ran. He didn't bother to go looking for Dr. Hutchins, no matter how alluring the scent of her fertile pussy was to him. No, he ran for the exit, he ran for his freedom.

  11.

  Through

  Her

  Teeth

  After pissing in the pot to the soundtrack of a hot fuck session right in the stall next door, Ella hitched her panties back on up and headed out without bothering to wash her hands. She wanted to get away from the racket, and figured she could just use some hand sanitizer she had in her purse on the way back to the table to meet Brad.

  As soon as she emerged from the hallway where the doors to the bathrooms were, though, Ella noticed something was amiss.

  The table where she'd left boring Brad was now empty.

  Figuring he was pissing in the men's room, Ella went and sat down, gulping the last of her wine from her glass after she'd settled her ass back into her chair.

  And then she waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Ten minutes later, Ella realized that Brad had ditched her. The boring man who had invited her on a date, sent her the first message on Tinder, and even insisted they meet at the bar, had just up and disappeared.

  What the absolute fuck?

  The nerve! Now Ella was kicking her self. She should have sneaked out the back. Did Brad really think that he was above her level or something?

  Fuck!

  Modern dating sucked!

  Fuck Tinder, Ella thought.

  And then the waitress arrived tableside.

  “Would you like to pay the bill for the six drinks now?” the cute, curt young woman asked.

  Ella glanced up at her, then turned back to the empty glasses on the table.

  Brad's punk ass had stiffed her with the bill. And he hadn't even stiffed her with his dick!

  “No,” Ella said through her teeth. “Thank you. I'd like another glass of chardonnay.”

  12.

  Chasing

  A

  Tail

  It was easy for Michael to escape the compound. The guards at the gates shot him and gave chase, but he ran into the forest nearby and easily disappeared into it.

  Michael couldn't see well in the dark. It seemed that his vision was only slightly enhanced. But his sense of smell, wow was his sense of smell on another level.

  As he ran at full sprint through the forests, he could literally smell something in front of him, such as a rock or a log blocking the paths he followed. And he could run, seemingly, forever. He could run and run and run and his endurance just wouldn't let up.

  But where was he running to?

  South.

  To Bloomington.

  Michael wanted to go back to the doctors at Bloomington Hospital, to ask them for help. He was delirious, he wasn't himself. He was just drawn back to Bloomington, away from the strange governmental medical compound outside of Indianapolis.

  And so he ran.

  He ran and he ran and he ran all into the night. He ran along the shoulders of highways, dipping into the bushes when a car passed, so as to avoid detection, and to avoid having the cops called on him. He must have looked like some kind of drug addicted mental patient, in his state. He had the hospital clothes on, which had torn as he ran through the woods.

  Yes, to Bloomington.

  There was something in Bloomington that was drawing him back. As if he would find all the answers he needed there.

  And more.

  13.

  Risk

  Risk

  Risk

  After the fiasco the bar, Ella decided to walk home.

  Alone.

  Cutting through campus.

  Yeah, there was that email warning from the dean telling faculty to take care and not do that. Especially women. Especially women with low cut blouses on.

  But after getting shit canned at the bar by boring Brad, and downing a fourth wine, alone, Ella was feeling kind of frisky. Not like she wanted to be taken and overpowered, but she wanted to do something risky in her life.

  Roxy's words were fresh on Ella's mind, how her friend talked about how risk made sex more pleasurable. And then there was the couple fucking in the stall at the bar, too. They certainly seemed like they were enjoying the hell out of that session they were having, made all the more risky by the fact that the bar management could have called the cops, someone could have complained, or one of them might have accidentally stepped in the toilet water.

  Risk risk risk.

  And now Ella was taking a risk of her own. Fuck the world! She would cut through campus at ten at night if she damn well pleased!

  It was soon after she was through the gates though that Ella started to regret her decision to go that way instead of taking the long route circumventing IU. She was naive though because she had yet to have seen the Marauders her self.

  She'd only heard about them and read about them in the papers. In fact, none of Ella's friends had even encountered these gangs of criminal, alpha men. Some of her peer group believed it might have been an urban legend even. This despite the fact that IU and Bloomington Police were certainly assuring the public that this was a very, very real danger by putting out public service announcements.

  Half way through to the other side of campus, it became apparent that no, the big, strong, aggressive Marauders were not, in fact, an 'urban legend'.

  They were very, very real.

  Ella heard them as she was passing by the student union. It was footsteps that sounded like boots on concrete, almost like storm troopers goose stepping or some scary shit.

  And then she saw them.

  It was a half dozen. They were all big, muscular men in jeans and leather jackets, with chains, tattoos, and piercings.

  That would indeed be the Marauders, Ella thought. You stupid idiot.

  She was cursing herself as they walked towards her, going the opposite direction, staring at her without saying a word.

  Ella kept going forward, trying to avoid eye contact. She knew running was useless. She kind of hoped that ignoring them and being on her merry way would just make this nightmare go away.

  But it didn't.

  When they passed by her a few meters to her left on the pathway was when they came for her. They all moved fast and ran at her.

  Ella screamed, of course. And she tried to run, but it was too, too late. Their hands were on her a moment later. Strong, powerful hands groping at her clothing, trying to yank it off, pulling her purse away, diving into her pockets looking for money.

  They grunted and whooped, speaking only short sentences like “Get her good” and “She's mine first assholes”.

  Ella screamed again and a hand went over her mouth. She thought it was all over for her. She thought she might as well give in.

  But that was when the beastman came out of the darkness and demolished the Marauders with ease. That was when Ella first met Michael.

  14.

  With

  Savage

  Fury

  It was with the sav
age fury of a superhuman mutant that Michael lashed out at the Marauders that were attacking the woman on IU campus. Michael had been passing through, after having run for hours from the facility half way to Indianapolis, and he was cutting through campus to get the Bloomington Hospital.

  Yet there he was, intervening as a group of six ganging marauders tried to take this innocent woman.

  In fact, Michael had been looking for the right opportunity to test out his new powers of physical strength again, after having demolished teams of guards at the experimental military facility.

  He growled as he grabbed these men by their collars and flung them to the ground hard. He slapped one in the face so hard he fell out light a light. A third Michael hit right on the top of the head with a hammer fist strike, also knocking him unconscious,

  The poor woman screamed as Michael took these men to pieces. The next three tried to fight back but it was useless. They hit Michael with chains and one tried to stab him with a knife but it was like nothing for Michael's thick skin.

  The sharp blade glanced off of him like nothing at all.

  Roaring as he acted, Michael went in for the kill, there in the dark on IU campus. He was so determined to devour these men that he was feverish with rage. He wanted blood, and blood he would have.

  He stooped over one that was moaning in a stupor on the pavement. Michael was beginning to understand his own strength. He could pop the man's skull like a pimple.

  “Wait!” the woman from nearby shouted to him. “Don't kill them!”

  Michael wondered why the hell not. Of course he should kill them. He should kill the ones who were there nearby, and track and hunt down the two who were now running away and trying to escape.