tagNonHumanAlpha and Omega

Alpha and Omega

byDragonCobolt©

Bruce Robert Kinsey slowly sat up – his head aching – and tried to remember why he couldn't remember a single thing that had happened last night. Several things lurched into place, one after the other, as his vision took in the blue sky and the green leaves, then the broad sweep of the trees around him, and his skin took in the sensation of grass rubbing against his bare backside. They didn't snap into place like montage clips from a TV show with a lazy writer...instead, they came in and out of focus, like watching a soap opera's middle seasons while both not speaking the language and being held upside down underwater.

Seeing: A smiling blond girl...

Feeling: A hand caressing his belly – rubbing him.

Hearing: "I looove boys with some cush..."

Bruce blinked again.

He looked down at himself.

He was still chubby, yes. But he also had muscle there. Muscle he hadn't had before. Groggy memories reaching back into a crash course given to him by...by...

Bruce felt his heart clench. His skin tingled. He felt like he was falling again – his eyes burned and he put his hands to his face as he started to cry. He had remembered, with the same lurching feeling that he felt whenever he forgot, whether it was for one second or for a whole hour...he remembered that Jean was dead. He wasn't even in college yet, and he had still had the love of his life - killed. Crushed in a car accident, so brutally ruined that he couldn't even have an open casket funeral. And the last thing that he remembered was her wry smile and her wink as she walked away from his house...

I'll see you Monday, champ!

"Hey, you're awake!"

Bruce nodded, sliding his hands away from his face as he did so. "Yeah, Jean I- AUUUUUUUUUUGH!"

He sprang to his feet, almost stepped on a bared breast, and almost fell over a spread set of legs. The legs and breasts, fortunately, were attached to living people...but that wasn't what he was focused on. His girlfriend...his dead girlfriend was standing in the center of the forest clearing, smiling broadly at him as he gasped for air. She was just as beautiful as ever – limber and tall and athletic, with nut-brown dark skin, full breasts, perky nipples, hairless sex...buck naked...

Bruce blinked a few more times.

Then the blond girl on the ground next to him rolled onto her belly, mumbling under her breath. "Stop makin so much noise, packmate, trying to sleep..." and then she curled herself up into a tight little ball of curvacious girl and went back to sleep. There were five other naked people, clustered together – a man, two women, and two people of indeterminate gender. The smell in the air was rich with the scent of sex.

Seeing: A man's cock, sliding forward against his face.

Tasting: The warm, salty taste of him.

Feeling: Pleasure at accepting this part of himself.

Jean grinned at Bruce – but her eyes were sad. Hungry. Longing. Angry. Excited. They shifted from emotion to emotion with almost manic intensity, blocked only when she closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side. She floated forward, her hand caressing Bruce's shoulder...but it didn't. It just phased through his skin, leaving a faint, cool sense.

"Lets, uh, talk over this way," she said, quietly.

Bruce – numb and confused – walked carefully around the naked people. He noticed how he moved much more easily now...he was still a bulky boy, yes. But there was now muscle slabbed underneath his cushiness. Fresh hair grew from his chest, his back, his balls. Even the backs of his knuckles had curls of hair that seemed soft and downy. And his cock...he...well, he'd always been hung, but if he didn't miss his guess, it looked quite a bit bigger now. Jean smiled and then drew back behind a tree. There, she waited for him to stretch, shake his head...open his mouth...close it.

"What the ever loving fuck is going on?" He asked.

"Well," Jean said. "It looks like an orgy. A hell of an orgy – I'd be jealous...if...I hadn't orchestrated it." She grinned at him. "Oh my god, you took to it like a vampire takes to a goth club!" She rubbed her hands together. "This is SO AWESOME! I mean, it sucks that I'm dead, but now I can be your Jedi force ghost...but for love."

Bruce smiled at her – broadly. He couldn't help it. Even death couldn't change Jean, it seemed.

"So," Jean said, before he could speak. "Basics? You are a...well, the term you'd most easily recognize is werewolf. But we call ourselves the Pack. But I call us humpwolves!" She spread her arms wide, beaming.

"Humpwolves?" Bruce asked.

"Humpwolves!" Jean said, nodding.

"...hump...wolves..."

"Hey, it's just my pet name," Jean said, chuckling. "No one else uses it unless I force them too."

"It's quintessential Jean," Bruce said, smiling at her. "So...I'm a humpwolf now?" He looked down at himself. "Explains the hair. And muscle."

"And the orgy," Jean said, giggling.

"Doesn't explain why I'm talking to a ghost," Bruce muttered, still looking down at his body. The breeze was starting to pick up, and his skin was turning to goosebumps underneath his body hair. Not as much as it used too, but still.

"Well, the Pack exists for balance between the worlds – natural and human, spirit and physical, living and dead," Jean said, her voice growing serious. "Where a spirit is lost, we help them. Where a mage is running low on power, we recharge them. Where a vampire is adrift without support structure or blood doners, we step in. We mediate wars and keep the worlds of man and supernatural from tearing one another apart."

"...how?" Bruce asked – feeling as if he was suddenly told that he had to take the SATs all over again, except the answers and questions would be written entirely in ancient Babylonian.

"By FUCKING them!" Jean said, brightly.

Bruce put his hand over his mouth.

"Are you laughing?" Jean asked, frowning.

"Noooo," Bruce said. "Just...bleh! I am a great and powerful whampire!" He said, wiggling his fingers – his fake accent covering his giggles. "Youuu must fook me!"

"That's the worst Count impression ever," Jean said, sticking her tongue out at him. "But no, the Pack are brimming with magical energy! Even a single spurt of our delicious cum can supercharge any other member of the magical community – and we've leveraged that power and potential into a central place in the supernatural community. Also, it's hard to make war when you get fucked so hard your knees barely work!"

Bruce frowned. "That...can't be true."

"Have you noticed any magical wars waged between vampires, mages, werewolves and other sundry beasts of the night?" Jean asked, sticking her nose into the air. "Thought not!"

"Well, I-"

"Now, as a member of the Pack," Jean said, hurrying over any objections. "You need to place yourself within the pack. Are you an Alpha, Beta, or Omega?" She asked, ticking the three terms off on her fingers. "That is, are you good at starting sexual interactions, sustaining them, or ending them?" She nodded slightly. "See, we don't have a leader, really. Real wolf packs don't, and the Pack doesn't. So don't think that being an alpha means you get to be in charge. You only get to be in charge when she of he is tied up and has a safe word!"

Bruce opened his mouth – Jean kept going.

"Anywho, if you're an Alpha, it means you're a seduction mastah. You can be all like..." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Ladies. And BOOM! Panties equals downnnnnnnn!"

"Got it," Bruce managed to get a word in edge wise.

Jean gave him two thumbs up. "Beta means that you're good at extending things. You have the innate talent for long term relationships and bonding. Betas are awesome for vampire covens, dryads, persistent hauntings-" Bruce blinked, checking to make sure she had said 'hauntings' and not 'humpings' "- things that need long term situations. They can also fuck for days." She sighed. "Before I started dating you, there was this beta bitch named Cassandra. Girl could munch carpet for a week straight. Course, I don't have carpet, but still." She winked – gesturing down to her bare, ghostly pussy.

Bruce felt an intense pang of longing. He wanted to grab Jean and bury his face between her legs and just indulge in her like she was the buffet at a Sweet Tomatoes.

Jean snapped her fingers. "Hey. Hey. Eyes up here, where they belong, on my titties." She said, grinning as she cupped and squeezed her breasts. "Now! Omegas are really interesting. They may not have the magic power to seduce a partner, nor the inherent knack at long term relationships, but do you know what they can do?" She grinned. "They make people cum like Jesus is in the house. It's like the Second...Cumming. Eh!" She wiggled her eyebrows. "But, no seriously, I've laid with one Omega in my life, and he got me off so hard I passed out."

"Huh," Bruce said, rubbing his chin.

"Now, lets figure out which you are," Jean said, nodding.

"Wait!" Bruce held up his hands. "There's still two things I don't understand. Why can I see you?"

"Because you're a member of the pack. You may need to lay a ghost some day!" Jean said, nodding.

"Got it," Bruce said. Then...the hard question. He felt a lump in his throat – his mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked at the ground – at his muddy feet, and the bits of grass and leaves stuck between his toes. He looked back up at her, and Jean was smiling gently.

"How did I die?" She asked.

Bruce nodded.

Jean sighed. "Okay...I guess...I just didn't want to talk about it..." she sighed. "So, remember how America was founded by Puritans? Funny story...there is a secretive cabal of anti-sex warriors called Paladins that is a holdover from the Puritans, who all believe sex is evil. F-Funnier story, a new girl at school is also a Paladin! Funniest story ever! Uh, she, kinda...figured me out and shot me with a silver bullet. Which is hilarious! C-Cause...well, I mean, you don't need silver to kill humpwolves, you just need to be really really judgmental. So. Huh. Hah. Weird, huh?" She grinned at Bruce.

Bruce growled. The feeling was very odd – he had never before wanted to rip someone apart limb from limb. And right now, he felt like his body actually could manage it. His muscles creaked and he felt his bones shift and pop loudly. His palms burned with sudden pain and – looking down – he saw that claws had burst from his fingertips. They dripped blood. He took one step forward and snarled: "Who?"

"Noooo way!" Jean said, stepping forward – her hand misting through his chest as she glared at him. "Nu-huh! Calm the fuck down, Bruce! Right now! Or else I will NEVER suck your cock again!"

Bruce snarled. "She killed you!"

"Yeah, and how will hurting her make anything better!?" Jean asked. "I'm not mad. Well, okay, I'm furious. Furrious. Get it?" She grinned – her lips skinning back from her teeth in a smile that definitely wasn't a smile. "But murder won't fix anything – it'll just add another ghost to the world. And more...that's not what we humpwolves are about! We used to be violent – in the ancient past. But that's not what we are today, and the world is better because of it. And more..." she paused. "And more, that's not the Bruce I fell in love with!"

Bruce looked down at the ground.

"I fell in love with a kind, gentle, good hearted, generous, gorgeous guy..." Jean murmured.

"I had a pot belly and pimples," Bruce said, quietly.

"You were gorgeous on the inside! I used magic to see!" Jean said, amused.

"Wait, what?" Bruce asked.

"Yeahhh, for the first date, I used magic to make you look how you were inside. That's why I jumped your bones on the first night!" She giggled. "I'm just glad you knew how to eat a girl out!" She sighed, softly. "So, please...don't kill anyone, it'll break my heart."

Bruce tensed...then sighed.

"Okay..."

Jean beamed. "Awesome! Now, go find your clothes!"

###

When Bruce came home, it was with a twig still stuck in his hair. He only noticed it when his sister glanced up from her video games and said: "You have a twig in your hair, Bruce?"

"So, two things: She can't see me, and your innate humpwolf aura will make her think you look sexier, but not crazy sexier," Jean said. "Since, I mean, you did change a lot. She'll see the change, but not ALL of the change."

Bruce looked at Jean – and, applying the knowledge of watching dozens on dozens of Quantum Leap episodes – didn't respond to her. Instead, he plucked the twig from his hair and regarded his sister, Xan. She was four years older than him and had come back from college with several failed grades and a stinging letter from one of the teachers, the contents of which Mom and Dad had kept quiet despite Bruce's intense curiosity. She had also let herself drop from fab – as she had been going to college – to slab – as she was now. Not that she wasn't still pretty. She was TV sitcom ugly. Meaning that she was dressed in a huge tank top, shorts, and hadn't washed her hair, or done her make up. But underneath, she was still the luminous blond that had gone off to college.

"Yeah, I was doing Shakespeare in the Park," Bruce said, casually. "Hit your high score yet?"

"Nope," Xan said, looking back to the screen.

"...so, I'm going to put my oar in and assume you don't want to use your supernatural mojo to try and bang your sister," Jean said, grinning. "I suggest, instead, some kind of local entertainment place. Oh! I know! The mall!"

Bruce paused. "So, sis, is Mom and Dad home?"

"Nope," Xan said – her thumbs twitching along the controller for the main console. She managed to put some kind of high energy projectile through the skull of a virtual enemy. Then she did it again, five more times in rapid succession.

"Were they worried?" Bruce asked, frowning.

"A bit," Xan said.

"Great..." Bruce rubbed his hand along his face. He looked at Jean.

Jean blushed – her dark skin darkening even more. "Hey! I just said they should turn you, not that they should just steal you away. They were just...energetic and excited and really wanted to turn someone. Turning someone is a special moment in any humpwolf's life!"

"I'm so glad," Bruce muttered.

"Hmm?" Xan rolled her head back and looked at him – claiming another skull with another blast from her virtual avatar's firearm. Lasarm?

"Nothing," Bruce said, shaking his head. "I'm out to pound pussy like there's no tomorrow!" He waved one hand, casually as he turned to the door. The door opened and closed as Xan made a quiet grunt – nodding.

Then, only five seconds after the door had finished settling shut, did Xan start and jerk her head around. "What!?"

###

"Okay, how about her?" Jean pointed at a girl that was walking through the mall. She was dressed in a gray shirt with a gray scarf wrapped around her shoulders despite the day's gathering heat. She has sunglasses and her cheeks were ever so slightly puffy – while her hair was tied back into a tight, severe ponytail. Bruce looked at his girlfriend ghost. Ghostfriend? Girlhost?

"That's Linda Makelmyre," he said.

"And?"

"She's gay," Bruce said. "And just got dumped."

"Pff, everyone's bi when you're an Alpha," Jean said, waving her hand dismissively.

"That's...no, that's not true," Bruce said. "Actually, wait, even if it was true, it'd be squicky."

"Ugh!" Jean threw up her hands. "How about her?"

"Married," Bruce said, frowning. "See the ring?"

"I see the 'fuck me' pants and lipstick. Come on, she's here for some strange," Jean said, nodding sagely – then the woman walked into the arms of another man with the same ring that she was wearing. They kissed deeply, then walked deeper into the mall.

Bruce looked at Jean, arched an eyebrow.

"You look like a crazy person when you do that," Jean said, sourly. "Fine! Which kind of girl do you want to test your possible Alpha magic mojo powers on?"

Bruce rubbed his chin. "I have to admit, it is kind of weird thinking about seducing someone while the ghost of my dead girlfriend – who died two days ago, I hasten to add – hovers over my shoulders." He frowned.

"I hereby grant you the right of polyamory," Jean said, sagely – holding up her hand as if christening him with the flat of an invisible blade. "Go forth, and get busy."

"Oh Jean," Bruce sighed.

"Bruce?"

Bruce looked to the side – his stomach sinking as he saw a concerned looking Asian girl – her hair was short cropped and dyed a bright neon blue, while her wide nose had a tiny gemstone piercing on the left nostril. She was slender and dressed very...punk, but despite the leather collar and the thick boots and fingerless gloves, she had a look of concern on her face that made her seem quite soft and approachable. Her lips were painted the same blue as her hair – a tiny detail that sparked through Bruce's brain as he looked at her.

"H-Hey Alison," he said, gulping.

Alison Nguyen – one of the girls in his science class and a generally nice individual that he had interacted with a little bit but not enough to really know much about her – smiled at him.

"You okay?" She asked, her voice gentle. "I mean – I heard about Jean."

"Goooo fooor iiiit!" Jean whispered. "Asian girls are amazing."

Bruce wished that he could say: You say that about every [X] girl out there, Jean.

Instead, he just said: "Hey, uh, yeah." He shook his head. "I still can't even believe it's real, you know? Like...I just expect her to stand right over there and tell me to go and get ice cream and damn the diet." He slapped his belly – hard muscle making a different sound than what he had had before. Alison laughed – her eyes crinkling slightly.

"Well, if there is a time for ice cream, now would be the right time!" Alison said, nodding. "Come on – I can get you some."

"Oh, it's no trouble-" Bruce started.

"No, no..." She grinned. "I was going to head home anyway – but ice cream sounds more fun." She grabbed his hand and tugged him along. "Come on!"

Bruce looked back, desperately, and saw Jean giving him the double thumbs up.

Alison and Bruce sat down at the ice cream parlor that sat at the corner of the mall – directly under the warm sun, two small cups of ice cream placed before them by a smiling waitress. Bruce held the ice cream for a moment, eying the gleaming white vanilla and the dark chocolate chips that had been wafted over the scoops. He sighed, then started to eat slowly – enjoying the tingle of sugar along his tongue. As he swallowed, he glanced at Alison.

Alison was looking at him...speculatively. Her eyes – dark hazel – smoldered faintly as she licked her spoon clean, her tongue sliding over it smoothly and eagerly. She shifted in her seat, thrusting her chest out slightly and...Bruce blinked.

Her nipples were hard.

"Ohhh shit son!" Jean whispered. "Alphaness, hooo! You're an Alpha, you're an Alpha, I fucking knew it!"

Alison – unaware of the ghost dancing excitedly behind her – smiled at Bruce. "Y-You okay? You have the oddest look on your face."

Bruce blinked, shaking his head a bit and sitting up straighter. "No, no – I...kinda. I just..." He shook his head. "I miss Jean. But I'm also trying to not wallow in pity."

Alison nodded – reaching out. Her fingers caressed his knuckles, and Bruce felt a tiny spark jump from him to her. Alison bit her lip, her blue lipstick dimpling under her teeth. Quietly, she whispered. "Y...You could wallow in me."

Bruce lifted an eyebrow.

###

Alison panted, her tank top slithering up and off her shoulders, dropping to the ground in the changing room – they hadn't waited to get home, hadn't waited to get somewhere private. They had just gone straight to a Macy's. Her mouth opened and before she could make a noise, Bruce's lips pressed against hers. Part of him wanted to step back, to leave – but a far, far, far larger part of him slid his hands to her firm, tight ass and squeezed. Alison bit down on his lower lip as he drew back, panting and whispering.

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