I am a Werewolf

Hope you enjoy...not much to say here. Um, his name's David by the way, and he's mine mine mine, very dear to my heart. He's just a puppy, really.

----------------------------------------

She was the only one in the town that was exactly his age. The one friend he had, the one person he had enough confidence in his relationship with that he considered telling her his secret, despite his mother’s constant admonitions that he must tell no one. She refused to allow him to leave the house during a full moon, claiming that was how his father was caught. But this girl—this Lynn—he had come close to telling. She was even, once, more than a friend to him—the first girl he ever kissed. Since his mother was extremely reluctant to let him outside the house at night, it was difficult to find time to be with her. So, their relationship began furtively, with a few minutes here and there when they both could get away. Needless to say, this created some amount of tension. To a couple of sixteen-year-olds, stolen kisses and embraces in the dark of night just outside of town are not very satisfying. In fact, that sort of denial of attention is just the sort of thing to make teenagers believe that they are desperately in love and are being oppressed in some way. And, since to believe you are in love it to be in love, so they were. Over time, their stolen kisses became more passionate, and began to last for most of the time they were together.

While Lynn seemed to be coping with their oppression rather well, he could not. When his mother died, he was able to see her every night, yet even this was not enough for him. Every day that passed, he wanted her more, and more powerfully. On the last night he would see her, she engulfed him completely. Every second she was near him, he heard every hard thump of her eager heart, felt every bead of impassioned sweat that touched her upper lip or brow, he saw the light touch of her eyelashes to her cheek as her eyes flittered shut, and most of all, he smelled the damp musk that began between her legs. She probably had not yet even realized that she was aroused, and he could smell it on her. It hit him so suddenly and filled his nostrils so quickly that he became dizzy, so in a stupor fronm her deep scent that he did not hear her comment on the fullness of the moon that night.

Before she knew what was coming, he was on her, deceptively strong thighs pinning her hips in place in the grass as his mouth crushed against hers, stifling her cries of alarm. In passing he felt her small hands press uselessly against his broad shoulders and chest, sometimes hitting him in an attempt to pry him away. When she turned her head away to avoid his kiss, he merely moved it, and his mouth closed harshly over her neck as his own larger hands carelessly ripped away the thin material covering her torso. It was somewhere around that point that he lost himself completely in the repeating thud of her ever accelerating heartbeat and the intoxicating smell of her sweat and her musk, and he remembered nothing that came afterwards. Nothing except her heart, the sound of her quick breathing escaping her in gasping whimpers, and the feel of her sweat-slick skin brushing against the bare flesh of his hips and stomach as he rocked against her.

When he came to his senses, lightheaded still and softly gasping as his head fell backwards and his eyes slipped shut, he could feel the extra sharpness of his teeth and fingernails, the slight shifting of his eyes that told him they had begun to turn golden, and the slight extra thickness of the hair on his legs, arms, and chest. The beginning effects of the change had crept into him without his notice, and as he lifted his head to look at the girl before him, he knew he was the only one who had not noticed. She was cowering, huddled into herself on the ground just out of his reach, clutching at the few remaining scraps of her clothing. Beneath them, he could see violent black bruises forming on her thighs, and a small amount of blood seeping into the grass where he had attacked her. Her mouth was open, but only to sob, tears streaming down her face and neck to mix with the blood that stained her shoulders and chest. There were even smears of blood on her mouth.

With horror, the events of the past few minutes came flooding back to him, and in a rush he felt every one of her desperate twists and scratches, he heard her whimpers and cries of pain as he crushed his hips against hers and dug those sharpened nails into her sides, back, and chest. Bust most of all—worst of all, he tasted her blood on his tongue and his lips, and when he reached up to touch his mouth now, he felt it there still, not yet dried. His eyes went immediately to her shoulder, from whence a larger amount of blood still flowed, in the grotesque shape that told him that his teeth had made that mark. He fell back from his knees in a panic, hurrying away from her, falling over himself in his attempt to retreat faster. He managed to get to his feet, and ran as fast as they would carry him, only pausing when he was out of sight long enough to complete his transformation, his pitiful cries of sorrow changing into the fearsome howl of the wolf inside of him that had just ruined that poor girl.

The next time he ran, he didn’t even notice that a small, elderly woman living near the outskirts of town gasped with horror as the beast rushed by her yard.