Part one: The change
#1 of Chronicles for a confused soul.
**Chronicles for a confused soul.
Part one: The change.**
_v. 1.02
Warning!
The following text contains sexual situations between teenagers. It also contains foul language.
You, the reader, should be familiar with the local laws concerning such material. Most countries restrict such material to people over the age of 18.
I, the writer, accept no responsibility if you, the reader, should break any laws or sustain any harm from reading this._
Copyright 1999, Pontanius.
"Would you like to come inside..?" She paused briefly there in the front door of the large house and kind of twisted on one foot before continuing, ".. My parents are away for the weekend, so..... I have the whole house to myself." She looked up into his eyes and he nearly drowned in those beautiful blue pools.
He gazed back with his all-too boring, brown eyes and swallowed. 'This is it!' he thought, 'Now don't sound too eager or you'll scare her away.'
"YES!" he blurted out.
'You idiot!' he thought to himself, but she just smiled and stepped to the side to give him room to enter the house and he followed into the hallway.
'So this is how the wealthy live.' He thought to himself. Awed by the luxuries around him.
"You got a great house!"
She carefully closed the door behind him and gently replied, "Thanks."
His eyes scanned the hall; Her father was founder and president of one of the larger companies in Denmark, and it showed. He figured that, even saving for a lifetime, he'd never be able to afford just one of the paintings in the hall.
His father was a lowly interpreter for the immigration authorities. Translating for the very same people.. in the very same interviews they'd put his father through when he first arrived as a fugitive.
She took his arm and guided him gently to the living room where he once again was taken aback by the wealth, "Would you like something to drink?"
"Just.. just a soda, please.. erhh.. Cola."
He watched her very closely as she left the room, and his heart sped up, his pulse thundering in his ears.
She was slender, but she still managed to maintain all the right curves that made her the prime subject in the locker room after gym classes. Standing just six feet four, she was some six inches shorter than he and her long, blond hair was straight and soft looking, and feel naturally down her back. Not at all like his own, black, curly hair which always had a life of it's own.
And her face; Her face was so beautiful. Not like that of a model, but in a soft and down-to-earth kind of way. Her nose was such a petite little thing and her full, red lips held the alluring promises of many soft and captivating kisses.
But her eyes! Her eyes were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.
The deep, radiant blue of a crystal clear summer's day sky.
He was brought out of his reverie as she suddenly appeared next to him and sat down on the couch and folded her legs up under her on the cushion before handing him the glass, and as he took it, their fingers touched and their eyes meet. His heart skipped a beat, but she just closed her eyes and emptied her glass.
He looked at her for a second before taking a large drink of his own glass, and he coughed as the unfamiliar taste of alcohol sting his throat.
She in turn laughed softly as he coughed.. her laughter like the fluttering wings of a thousand butterflies. And then she leaned in close to him. Leaned into him, her lips brushing against him in the softest of touches.
They kissed.
It was short and fleeting, but it made his heart race and his body warm. Sweaty.
His arms wrapped about her and he pulled her tight to him, her breasts flattening against his chest as he kissed her deeply and their tongues started a duel for control. Wrestling furiously against the other before she broke the kiss and nipped at his jaw and neck. She was panting now, her voice low and hazy.
"Please Daniel, I want you. Now. Please!" She pleaded with desire in her voice, her dainty fingers gripping his shirt and ripping it open so her hands could roam his exposed and lean chest, already cowered in curly, black hair in his teenage years.
He, in return, managed to pull her blouse up, briefly stopping her caress of his chest as he pulled it over her head and discarded it off the side of the couch.
When she again leaned in and kissed at his chest, his hand reached for her breast. The subject of many a fantasy, and now squeezed in his fingers. So soft, warm. His mind was reeling from the sensations and he barely noticed her hands fondling his stomach and gripping the front of his jeans, fingers nimbly opening them.
He did, however, notice her fingers rubbing the hard bulge in his boxers and it brought a loud gasp followed by a low, almost pain filled moan from him, his hand on her breast failing as she gripped the bulge in her hand and squeezed it.
She continued to rub his erection and kiss one of his nipples while he recovered from the initial touch, but then he started moving, pulling her to her knees on the couch, his hands guiding her skirt down her legs until she was before him in only her socks and white panties.
His courage failed him now, even with her hand stroking his hard cock, so he pulled her in close once more and kissed her lips. One kiss followed another as he hugged her tight, her hands on his chest now, his arms around her. Panting against each other's lips while he build up his courage and finally let his hand slide down to press between her soft, warm and moist thighs.
His breath turned ragged as he felt her wet heat and she cried out in pleasure and need as he rubbed her crotch. Her delicate finger slid into his fly and she gripped him. Stroked him. He was rock-hard and he leaned back in the couch, her lips on his chest again as her fingers stroked him. Her legs parted a little and his hand rubbed a little more freely at her panties. She rubbed back at him, showing her desire to him once more before pulling away, leaving him gasping on the couch.
She then kissed him and slid down the couch.
"Anita?!" He was confused.
"I.. I want you, Daniel. Gods, I want you..." She looked at his discarded clothing, then dropped to the floor and rummaged through them. This confused him even more and he just sat there with his jeans pulled to mid-thigh and his hard cock sticking out of his fly.
She opened his wallet and looked inside, then dropped it and stood up, "Don't.. don't move. I.. I gotta.. you know.. get.. one of those.. things." She blushed as she stumbled over the word, unable to say it even standing there in her wet panties. He could just nod in return and she rushed off, calling back to him, "I.. I think.. my parents.. hide some.. Stay right there."
And then she was gone. He watched her rush off, his heart racing in his chest and his breath heaving.
It felt wrong.
It was wrong.
His heart was pounding in his chest, picking up speed with each and every stroke.
His blood was boiling inside him and his veins were standing out on his arms and chest.
All the muscles in his body was cramping up. Aching.
A metallic taste started to fill his mouth as his face felt.. sticky.
His hand came up, rubbed across his face.. and withdrew covered in blood.
He shrieked softly and jumped up, rushing into the hall and into the restroom there. His hands rested on the sink, blood flowing from his nails as he looked into the mirror.
He didn't notice.
Blood was running slowly from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth.
He didn't notice that either.
His eyes were fixated on his hair and the way it was growing before his eyes. His short, curly hair lengthened and the new hair underneath was a dark, sandy-brown color, and not as curly.
Then it hit him. A wave of nauseating pain washed over him and he fell to the floor, writhing and crying out from the horrendous pain coursing through him.
He could hear muscles shifting and tendons stretching and snapping. Points popped as loudly as firecrackers in his ears and he could plainly hear how his bones were cracking.
Even though this array of sickening noises, he could easily hear Anita approaching outside in the hallway. He could hear the worry in her voice as she searched for him, "Daniel? Where are you?"
He scrambled for the door and slammed heavily against it so it closed shut and the wood gave with a loud groan. He could hear her reach for the door, "Daniel? Are you in there?" He quickly locked the door and felt her hand turning the handle.
"Daniel? Are.. are you okay?" She sounded so worried.
"Y-yes." His voice was deep. Dark. Alien to his ears.
He realized that the pain had subsided and he stood up to look at himself in the mirror, but the ceiling rushed down to greet him with a loud, shattering boom.
" AaarrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRgh!!!" He growled more in surprise than from the pain that was just a sting, and he didn't even notice the small splinters of the wooden ceiling falling to the floor around him as he bend down to look in the mirror once more. 'What's happening to me? This.. this can't be right.' He lowered his head and finally was able to look at his reflection.
" Hraaaaa!" He fell back and cried out as his reflection stared back at him and he hit the wall behind him with a loud thump.
Anita's voice sounded once again, more worried after this new noise, "Daniel? Please talk to me."
His reflection. It was.
It was impossible.
"Daniel? What's wrong? Are you sick?" He could tell from listening to her voice that she was pressing to the door. Worried. Frightened even.
'What's happening?', he thought as he looked in the mirror, and instead of his own, brown eyes, a pair of yellow, animal eyes looked back at him, almost pierced his soul. 'Ohhh shit! I'm a freaking werewolf!'
He whined softly as he looked into those eyes and then his vision widened to take in the dark mane of the feline face in the mirror. "No," he growled lowly, "not a werewolf.. a were.... lion?" 'Did she drug me?' he thought, 'Did she put something in my soda? Besides alcohol?'
"Daniel.. Please open the door."
He turned towards the door as his senses turned towards the female presence on the other side of the thin wood. He could hear her soft and yet worried and scared breathing, the quickened pace of her heart. His whiskers could somehow sense the heat of her body even through the door and he could smell her breath; the slight trace of cola and expensive Jamaica rum, the thin layer of sweat covering her previously excited body and the sweet scent of her warm, moist, aching and, for reasons he couldn't begin to imagine he knew, virgin sex.
He wanted her. Her wanted her more than anything he'd ever wanted in his whole life.
He was rock hard as he reached for the lock.
"Daniel? Please, Daniel. Answer me.." She sobbed lightly.
His large ears flicked at the sound of her sobbing voice and he recoiled from the door.
What was he doing? She would be scared out of her mind if she saw him like this. Saw this.. monster. It wouldn't be love, it would be rape! It would hurt her.
Above the desire for her, he did not want to hurt her.
He looked at his hand hovering at the door handle. No, not hand. Paw! It was huge. It was more than a foot long and almost a foot wide. He looked past his paw and saw his fingernails scattered all over the floor. In their place were now dark, almost black claws of nearly two inches of length, somehow retracting and extending into and from his fingertip whenever he flexed a special muscle.
His paws were, but for some rough, black areas of his palms, covered by the same golden-brown fur that had covered the rest of him, and his fingers were covered in the lighter shade of fur that had also covered his impossibly broad chest and his abdomen where it tapered off to his groin and the insides of his thighs.
He was naked. It made sense when he thought about it, as he was more than twice his normal size. His jeans and boxers were shredded and scattered on the floor. But it still surprised him to see himself naked like this. He was naked, and yet not in any sense of a human. He was as naked as a dog or cat. But he doubted people would accept him as they did animal.
He laughed a loud, thundering laugh at his own thoughts. No one would accept him. Period.
'What kind of freak are you? Or have you become? You are not going out to her looking like this. You cannot have sex with her. I forbid you!'
But he was trapped in there in the restroom. His ears swiveled to pick up the faint noise of Anita trying to unlock the door from the outside and his eyes quickly scanned the small room for a means to escape. His gaze ended up on the small window. 'It should be large enough. It has to be.'
He quickly opened the window and squeezed through, his efforts to get out of the too-small window sending a potted plant to the tile floor within where it shattered and covered the blood stained floor with dirt. The noise he made upon landing outside was minimal and he was dashing for the hedge within seconds.
"I'm going to open the door now, Daniel."
He still heard that as he cleared the 12 feet tall hedge more than 150 feet away from the house, and as he dashed across the empty suburban street he could still hear her voice far behind, futilely calling his name from the restroom.
He ran. He fled that luxurious house where he had almost lost his virginity to the girl of his heart. Fled with tears streaming down his cheeks. Crying to the gods; the god of this country and the god of his parents and to any other god he could think of.
His frustration and confusion was his entire world now, and he didn't notice anything else.
He didn't notice Anita's hurt and sorrowful voice crying his name out of the open window.
He didn't notice the myriad of houses and gardens blurring past him as he fled through the cool summer's night.
He didn't notice the couple he knocked over on a sidewalk or even care what happened to them as he send them sprawling.
The taxi driver has had a good night. He smiled as he thundered down the freeway at more than the allowed speed of 70 miles an hour. He was, in fact, going more than a hundred miles an hour. He'd just taken a rather joyful and rather drunk couple home from Copenhagen to Helsingor. The guy had tipped him handsomely as he'd just ignored the blowjob the girl had given on the back seat of the cab. He'd been paid more than enough for the fare and the guy had hurried inside after the girl before the driver had found change for the fare. Now the driver was hurrying back to the capitol in the hopes of getting another fare to fill his wallet. He would later blame his obsession with the money to be earned for his lack of concentration, but in truth he had no chance of avoiding the large, dark shape dashing across he freeway in front of him. It came streaking across the opposite lanes and a truck driver skidded to a halt as the shape crossed his path and jumped the center barrier in one leap, striking the front of the large, new Mercedes Benz taxi.
The blow triggered the airbag and the driver could do little else than stomp on the brake as the car spun out of control and hit the barrier before skidding to a halt several hundred feet later. He slowly fought his way out of the vehicle and looked at the front of the car. It was totaled. His boss would have his head for this. Whatever he'd hit had obliterated the left front corner of the car and bend the hood out of shape. He could look into the engine room at the radiator and how it was folded neatly over the engine block. He then looked back at the road and squinted his eyes. He could just make out a shadow of something lying on the road.
He took a hesitant step towards the shape but backed up against the taxi again as the shape stood and walked, then ran to the barriers and leaped off the freeway.
The driver jumped back into his cab and slammed the door, hitting the panic button inside. He even refused to leave the safety of his taxi when the truck driver came to help him.
End of part one.
Copyright 1999, Pontanius.