Page 2 of Invade Me

I lubricated it with lube, removed the pens and markers from his ass, and slowly slid the plug into its designated place.

"Now we're going to take another little walk, bunny!"

With a brutal jerk, I knocked him off the desk, and he sank to his knees once more.

Again, we strolled around the room, with him having a funny pink butt plug stuck up his ass. During this tour, I took even more pictures.

Once I had him walk over to a pot with a small palm tree in the corner, I forced him to lift his leg like a dog getting ready to pee, and I took a picture of that too.

Then I led him to the sofa where people usually sat to talk to him, next to a low coffee table, and I took a picture of him there as well, and another when I told him to lie down flat with his legsout as far as they would go on the carpet—a smooth, fluffy one on which the employees rested their feet.

Finally, bored, I pulled him up again by the leash and pushed him onto the desk. He was now lying on his back, his head on a stack of papers. His penis was stiff and pointed at the ceiling.

In a menacing tone, still in character, I said, "You know what I’m going to do with these pictures? I’m going to stick them on all the doors in the company. I’ll put some of them in binders at the information desk, downstairs in the lobby, so everybody can find them. Surprise, surprise! And the ones on a Polaroid memory card? I’ll send them to your employees—every single one of them—so they can look at you… and laugh, seeing you for who you really are."

And then it happened; the alpha lowered his hands to his stiff penis, made maybe two movements, and came! His face was red with humiliation and… excitement. How strange—anyway, I wasn’t here to judge him.

His jizz splattered everywhere, but I managed to get away in time. Some of his cum fell on his stomach, on the desk and on the floor. It was a real miracle that it didn't land on me.

"Oh, yuck! You made a mess here, now lick it thoroughly, like a good boy!"

Still, he didn’t resist, obeying me meekly, with complete submission.

Feeling fed up, I looked at my cell phone. Twenty minutes had passed—exactly how long I was supposed to be here. I took some of the photos and piled up the best, juiciest ones on his desk. I also left him the plug still sticking out of his ass. The company provided me with it, so I didn’t care.

At the very end, I took his hands out of the cuffs, turned around, and…

Just then, the guy made a quick move, grabbing my wrist. I realized my black jacket’s sleeve had slid up. Through a narrow half-inch gap, the pink-purple line on my skin revealed me to him as a purple alpha.

The CEO’s eyes zeroed in on that spot. I instantly jerked my wrist free from his grip, but he gasped. "You’re one of them—a purple alpha? I should’ve known, you're so tall."

I tried to step back, but he wouldn’t let me, moving closer and grabbing my arm again. He looked ridiculous, with his pants down, the bunny tail, and his limp junk dangling between his thighs.

"I’ve heard about your strength. Is it true? Are you really that powerful?"

The clients received some information about us, but as long as penetrative sex wasn’t involved, I wasn’t supposed to reveal my identity—not even a clue that might hint at it. And how many of the purples even worked for Dark Dreams? But if I reacted defensively—or worse, aggressively—he might report it to my boss, then my money bonus would go out the window. And my customer reviews were fucking perfect until today!

So, I stayed silent, watching him, choosing to be mysterious over rude. That always seemed to work.

"Prove it to me. Lift me with one hand," he challenged, his eyes shining with that unhealthy excitement I’d seen too many times from those who realized I was different.

Only about 1.5% of the population was like me, and we were usually considered freaks. Or outright… monsters. I’d had to get used to it, and sure, I’d been asked more than once to show off my strength. For a few extra bucks, I could do it. My pride didn’t have to suffer if it came with the sound of rustling bills.

I kept quiet, looking down into his wide, eager eyes. The height difference between us was noticeable—I was 7’2", and he was maybe 6’4". Without a word, I raised my hand, wrappingit around his neck. As I tightened my grip, he let out another squeak—a mix between a kitten and a chicken’s sound. What was with him and those cute animal sounds?

Then I slowly lifted him into the air, letting him savor the moment while his legs kicked freely.

He didn’t weigh enough to even make me break a sweat; I’d lifted much heavier alphas. I could handle over 650 pounds with one hand, so his 280 was nothing.

Holding him up, I watched his face turn red, veins popping, until finally, he lightly patted my forearm, probably struggling to breathe. I lowered him to the ground. He was panting, gasping for air, but seemed oddly satisfied—and was it just me, or had he started to get hard again? Either way, I had no interest in sticking around to see what he’d do about it.

As he still coughed and tried to catch his breath, looking pleased as could be, I turned on my heel, wanting to walk out, but then he unexpectedly said, "Can I… see your spines?"

Fuck. Not this again. I hated when conversations took this turn, when their curiosity crossed that line—becoming invasive, unhealthy. Then I just knew they saw me as nothing more than an oddity, a monster to be ogled and objectified like a circus freak.

"I can't push them out unless I'm angry," I said, half-lying. It wasn't entirely true, but he didn’t need the details.

His eyes lit up with twisted excitement. "I can make you angry."

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