Claude was not having a good day.

First, he’d been late for work (through no fault of his own, he reminded himself. His car had sprung a leak like a toddler before toilet training, and he’d had to call a cab), he’d spilled an entire cup of mocha latte down the front of his pants, staining them, (reference again the toilet-challenged toddler), and then, to top off his day, his date had cancelled.

He slumped back against the sofa in a blue funk. The broken date bothered him more than anything else. He could deal with being docked a few hours at work for his tardiness (although how his boss expected him to foresee a busted radiator hose was beyond him), and the raised eyebrows and smirks at his wet crotch, but another dud of a date night was depressing. His social life had gone from paper thin to nonexistent in one day.

Again, not his fault.

He took good care of himself, ate balanced meals, exercised regularly. He brushed his teeth three times a day, and even showered regularly, which was more than he could say for some of the guys he’d met at bars.
But the men he met could sense something odd about him. Maybe it was in his aura, like a neon sign hanging over his head that read “freak.”

Even other shifters gave him a wide berth, which was really saying something, since no other section of the population was hornier than shifters. They lived to rut.

Except with him, of course.

The man he’d scored a date with was a lynx. Sexy guys, those lynx. Sleek, powerful, with just enough fang to give a guy a serious hickey. Claude had been looking forward to their date all week. He’d even laid in an extra supply of rubbers and lube for the occasion.

Overly optimistic, maybe, but there you have it.

Then Roy, the lynx, had sent him an email breaking their date. An email! Why didn’t he just post it to Facebook and make Claude’s humiliation complete?

Oh, wait...he had.

“Roy’s staying home to wash his fur instead of going out with loser platypus.”

That’s what Roy’s Facebook update had said, and that was the crux of Claude’s problems. It wasn’t his human form that turned guys off. It was what he shifted into that had them running for the hills. It wasn’t Claude’s fault that he shifted into a creature that looked like something Dr. Frankenstein and Jack Hanna cooked up in a lab.

Word got around, too. He hadn’t told Roy what his shifter-form was, but somebody had, and like every man before him, Roy had swiftly taken a pass.

Well, fuck them all.

He was perfectly content with pulling one off now and then in the privacy of his own home.
Yeah, right.

He remembered the first time it had happened, and the memory still stung, even after all these years.

His name had been Mark, and he was a slender, blond, surfer boy with a bubble butt, big cock, and voracious appetite for sex. He was a shifter, too, a dolphin, and seemed perfect for Claude. Claude had fallen head over heels in love with him in no time flat.

Then came the moment he’d dreaded, when Mark had insisted Claude tell him what animal alter-ego Claude claimed.
Mark had run to the nearest computer and Googled “platypus.” What he’d found had sent him screeching out of the parking lot, tires screaming.

“Venomous? You’re venomous? Like a fucking copperhead?” Mark had gasped, pointing to the flickering computer screen.  “And you lay eggs? No fucking way, dude! I’m sorry, but that’s just too fucking weird for me. Nothing with a dick should be able to lay eggs. It’s...unnatural!”

This coming from a guy who changed into Flipper when he shifted.
Those were the last words Claude had ever heard Mark say. He hadn’t seen hide or dorsal fin of Mark since.
He’d dated other guys since, most only once. Then they’d find out about his platypus form and drop him. Lately, he wasn’t even getting to the actual “going out” part of the date. The men he hooked up with found out about him and called to cancel.
But emailing him was a brand new low.

That’s it. I’m swearing off men forever. From now on, it’s just me, myself, and I. Maybe I could join a monastery. No, the robes suck. I’ll just be a hermit, then. Yeah, that’s it. A celibate hermit.

The telephone rang, interrupting his one person pity party.

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Jim from Aussie Motors. I’m calling about your car.”

“Oh, yeah. Is it fixed?”

“All done. It wasn’t but a ten minute job. Replaced the hose, and gave you an oil change. You’re good to go.”
Claude smiled. This was the first good thing that’d happened to him all day. He’d half expected the mechanic to tell him he needed a new tranny, or manifold, or something else equally expensive and not covered under his very limited warranty. “Great! When can I pick it up?”

“Well, we close at eight, but I’ll probably be here until nine or so doing paperwork, if you want to pick it up tonight.”
Claude glanced at the clock, which read seven thirty. The cab company was notoriously slow in responding (hence why he’d been late to work this morning). “I’d need to call a cab...I don’t know if I’ll make it in time.”

“No worries. If I know for sure you’re coming, I’ll wait.”

“Awesome! Thanks so much!”

“Not a problem. See you later.”

Claude hung up and immediately called a cab. He was feeling better than he had all day. At least, once he had his car back he wouldn’t be housebound as well as depressed. He could go grab dinner, or a movie, something to get his mind off his miseries, and Roy-the-lynx-jerk.

***

Aussie Motors was way out on 27, a twenty-dollar cab ride for Claude. He paid the driver and got out, heading toward the tiny building marked “Office.”

Inside, a rugged-looking man with a shock of spiky, brown hair was at the desk, bent over a computer. He was wearing a short-sleeved, blue work shirt, showing an impressive pair of tattooed biceps. He looked up when Claude walked in, alerted by the ridiculously delicate tinkle of a bell hung over the door.

“Hi. I’m Claude. I’m here for the ’07 Ford?”

The man smiled, and it made his face go from handsome to devilishly charming. “Hi. I’m Jim.”

“Thanks so much for waiting. The cab took forever to get to my house.”

Jim shrugged one of a pair of broad shoulders. “I had some work to do anyway.” He collected a set of car keys from the peg board behind his desk. “Right this way.”

Claude followed Jim out into the car bay, entertained every step of the way by Jim’s nicely muscled ass. Encased in worn, tight blue denim, it twitched from side to side with each step. Jim was rather compact, standing a good three inches shorter than Claude’s six feet, but every inch looked like it was comprised of hard muscle.

Jim paused by the car, and handed Claude a clipboard. “Just sign on the dotted line and you’re good to go. We’ve already got your credit card number. The whole thing came to $98.50, including tax.”

He could have told Claude it would cost a million dollars and one of his kidneys, and he still would’ve smiled as he signed. Jim was hot, and seemed to be everything Claude looked for in a man. Nice, handsome, solidly built, plus Claude had picked up the unmistakable scent of shapeshifter clinging to him...he was perfect.

Stop that. Even if he was interested, he’d never want to date a freak, Claude firmly told himself. I’m done with having my feelings hurt and my heart broken. I’ve sworn off men forever, remember?

“Um, look, if I’m on the wrong track, I apologize in advance, but...are you seeing anybody?”

Claude blinked, staring at Jim in shock. It was as if Jim had read his mind.

“Oh, man, sorry. Forget I said anything. My radar is off. Too many long hours smelling car exhaust,” Jim said with a sheepish grin.

“Huh? Oh, no, you got it right. It’s just that I was thinking how attractive you are, and how...well, never mind.”
Jim brightened visibly. “Cool. So, do you want to? Go out with me? There’s a really nice little Italian place down the road. They have great manicotti.”

Claude bit his lip. Better to get it over with now, than risk seeing disgust on Jim’s face later.  “Listen, Jim...I want to be upfront with you. I’m a shifter, too, which you probably already picked up on, but...”

“But what?”

“Most guys – okay, so far, all guys – I’ve dated are turned off by my animal self.”

“How can that be? You’re hot.”

Claude blushed, and looked down at the floor.  “Thanks, but I want you to know about it before hand. It’ll just save me a lot of grief afterwards. I’m a platypus.”

Jim cocked his head. “Really? I never met another egg-layer before.”

Claude’s head snapped up. “What? You’re a platypus, too?”

“Nah. I wish I was something as pretty as a platypus. I’m a long-beaked echidna. A spiny anteater. You want to talk about having guys run away screaming when they see you shift? One guy barfed up his guacamole. Seriously.”

Claude felt himself beam. “I wouldn’t do that. You don’t mind that I’m venomous, and can lay eggs?”

“I can lay eggs, too, although I haven’t. No little Jims running around yet, thanks very much. And I won’t mind your venomous hind claw, if you don’t mind my quills. I’m not exactly the sort of animal you want to curl up with on a cold winter’s night. Plus, my nose sort of looks like I have a long, skinny penis growing out of my face.”

“Since I happen to like penises very much, I don’t think I’d mind at all,” Claude said with a smile.  “I don’t have kids, either. I always wanted to wait until I found a man I could depend on, first, which just hasn’t happened for me.”

“So, dinner?”

“Absolutely!” Claude agreed.

“Have you eaten yet? Is tonight too soon?”

Claude liked Jim better and better. “Tonight would be fabulous.”

“Great. Let me get washed up, and we can go. I’ve got a shower back there in my private bathroom.” Jim began stripping out of his shirt. “You want to wait here, or in my office?”

“Your office would be good.” He wasn’t going to miss one minute of the show Jim was putting on. Jim’s chest was wide, hairless, and muscled. His nipples were large, and coral-colored, and his washboard stomach was totally ripped.
Jim didn’t seem to miss Claude’s interest, because he was smiling as he flicked open the top button of his jeans. “Right this way,” he said.

Although Jim’s back was to him as Claude followed along, he could hear the unmistakable sound of Jim’s zipper being pulled down. His own body hardened, and he wished he could see what he was hearing.

He got his wish. When they reached Jim’s office, Jim turned around and closed the door behind them, locking it. His jeans were now open at the fly and, hallelujah, he had a hard-on. His cocked pointed up to Heaven, fully erect and ready.
Oh, today was just getting better and better.

“You know, that Italian restaurant is open until eleven. We’ve got some time...” Jim said. His grin was wide, and his eyes, heated.

Claude got the hint, loud and clear. He pulled off his T-shirt and dropped his drawers in record time.
“Oh, pretty boy,” Jim said, eyeing Claude’s erection. Claude’s eyes rolled to the back of his head when Jim dropped to his knees and took Claude in.

Jim knew his way around a cock, that’s for sure. He sucked Claude in so deeply, Claude swore he could feel the man’s appendix. Jim’s hands weren’t idle, either. They reached around Claude’s hips, squeezing his asscheeks.

After just a few minutes of Jim punishing his cock with his teeth and tongue, Claude hovered at the edge. “Gonna come,” he warned. “Been too long. God, you’re so fucking hot!”

Jim stood up, and took them both in hand, jerking their cocks together in slow, smooth movements. “Me, too. Been too fucking long, is right.”

When they came, it was within heartbeats of each other. The smell of their sex overpowered the odor of car exhaust and oil that clung to Jim, hanging heavy in the air.

Claude felt boneless, sleepy, sated, and suddenly voraciously hungry. “Mind if I join you in the shower? I can really use one now. It won’t take long, and then we can go eat.”

“You got it. Mi shower es su shower,” Jim said. “Platypuses...platypi? I can never remember which one is the right word. Anyway, you guys are aquatic, right? You like water?”

“Semi-aquatic, and I love water, particularly after spectacular blow jobs like the one you just gave me.”
“Aw, you can make it up to me later.”

Later! There would be a later! Claude thought happily as he followed Jim into the small bathroom. Those men who didn’t want Jim because of his animal-form didn’t know what they were missing. Jim was a keeper, and Claude got the distinct impression he was going to be the one doing the keeping.

They might be two weird shifters, but they were loving every minute of it.

~ END

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