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Candity

A serial story by Colin Leighton

CHAPTER TWO

[day two]

The next morning I woke with what had to be the worst case of stomach flu I had ever experienced.

I'd felt fine when going to bed the night before, but somewhere after 3am (I glanced at the clock once, then decided I was too sick to care what time it was) I awoke, had half-a-second to come to my senses, then flung the covers back, leapt out of bed, and sprinted for the bathroom.

When, a minute later, I had finished emptying my stomach of everything I had eaten the night before, I remained sitting in front of the toilet for a moment, hoping the painful cramping in my stomach would fade now that it was empty. After a moment I eased back onto the bathmat, wrapping my arms around my legs, and laying there, entirely nude, waiting for the churning of my innards to cease.

I ended up spending most of the night either in the bathroom, or laying in bed uneasily waiting for the next attack of painful dry heaves, wondering what had brought this upon me. Probably food poisoning...only that would strike this quickly...unless I picked up flu when I was in Bellingham last weekend. I tried remembering everything I had eaten the day before, but when your stomach is constantly cramped tight and aching, it is difficult to distract your mind with thoughts of anything else; even memories of the previous mornings' events failed to relieve my agony.

When my alarm went off, I ignored it.

Half an hour later, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Jürgen?" It was my supervisor.

"Yes?"

"There's been an accident in one of the labs. It doesn't sound like there's any danger but by company policy the facility is shutting down for a few days while they get things cleaned up."

Despite my grogginess, I pushed myself up against my pillows, intrigued. I was going to call in sick anyway but it's odd they closed the entire facility... "They closed the entire facility over just one lab 'accident...'" Of course, with what I had seen, it was probably more than just a little accident, but enough to close the facility?

"Yes, can you believe it? The higher-ups are being tight-lipped about it."

"I imagine they don't want media attention." Is that because they're hiding something? "They" being Richard and Anastasia Belmont and all those they'd involved in their mysterious project, at least, or the entirety of ERT, at most.

"Probably not. Anyway, it looks like we're getting a week off. Paid of course, probably no more than a week."

Not giving out a projected date of reopening...curious. "Okay, I was going to call in sick anyway."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, picked up some food poisoning I think. I'll be better in a day or two."

I wrapped up the call, considered getting out of bed, and immediately rejected the idea. As I settled back into the sheets I wondered briefly what Rolf was doing now - was he at the lab dealing with fixing whatever had gone wrong, or searching for the person responsible, or had he been sent home too? He had given me his phone number, but I was not in any condition at the moment to have a phone conversation with a man I was romantically attracted to.

There was also the question of what had become of the young man in the hospital gown.I should have told Rolf about him....If that man caused some kind of catastrophe because I had not reported him, I was guilty by association. Yet, somehow I felt that I'd done the right thing.

I spent most of Wednesday in bed, getting up only occasionally to visit the bathroom and to get more water - as despite the continued cramping, which failed to relent long after my system was emptied, I was still desperately thirsty. Once in the afternoon I tried eating a few soda crackers, the usual fare when one is suffering from a stomach bug, but the crackers came back up less than ten minutes later, and I did not try again.

[day three]

So sick....it's past ten in the morning but I don't want to get up....so achy....

It was the strangest stomach flu I had ever had, so strange that by mid-Thursday I had began to wonder if it was actually stomach flu. Not only did my innards feel as though they were in knots, but my joints too had began to ache, and my jaw, and my head, and my hands and feet - all my body, in a combination of a terrible cramp and exhausted way one feels after a long hike or day of hard physical work.

Aspirin and Ibuprofen haven't helped....

My once-orderly bed was reduced to a tangle of sheets and blankets and pillows, scattered by my restless attempts at sleep. No matter what position I lay in I could not get comfortable; nothing I could do made the aching let up. I wanted to die....

No way I can go on a date like this. Nonetheless, I can't stand Rolf up...

Weakly I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and shakily dialled his number. As it rang I swallowed, hoping my dry throat and mouth could force out coherent words.

"It's Rolf."

"Hey, man! This is Jürgen Wolf."

"What's up dude? Still on for tonight?"

Damn, I hated to turn down this opportunity. "Well....you know I hate to say this but I've came down with - food poisoning - any chance we can reschedule?"

"Food poisoning?" I could hear the curiosity in his voice. "What are your symptoms, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Aches and cramps all over my body, unable to keep food down..." I had a sudden suspicion he had already known what I was going to say. "You don't think this is related to what happened Tuesday, do you?"

There was the slightest hesitation on the other end of the line. "No - Well, at least I don't think so. If you stayed in the office you should be safe. Your symptoms do sound curiously similar to some that other ERT employees have experienced, though."

"What?I had been right to suspect something was amiss. "Do you mind telling me what caused this?"

"I can, but not over the phone. I can assure you it's in no way life threatening, no where near that, even if you feel like you're about to die. Besides, that's just if you do have....what I'm talking about - probably you picked a flu bug up elsewhere."

"Probably." I was less convinced. "When do you want to reschedule our date for? I imagine you're pretty busy dealing with....what happened at the lab."

"Let's see...why don't you call me in a couple of days - Saturday evening, say. That way you take a few days to get over your bug. We'll pick a day then based on how you're feeling."

God my chest hurts...better get off the phone. "That sounds great. Look Rolf, I've got to get off the phone but, hope all goes well dealing with the fiasco at ERT. Look for a call from me on Saturday, okay?"

"I will. Feel better, dude. Let me know if you don't."

I remembered that parting line afterward. Let me know if you don't... What exactly does he suspect I have?

I tried mulling the question over in my mind, but a wave of exhaustion came over me, and I fell into a restless slumber.

That evening, I woke in an even greater state of misery than before. So glad I didn't go on the date.. I got a drink, collapsed on the bed, and groaned. Fuck. What was this illness, worse by far than any other malady I'd contacted in my life, which made me feel as though my entire body was about to burst or compact simultaneously, and which Rolf seemed to have suspicions about? In my deliria I began to assemble strange theories as to his, and ERT's, involvement in my predicament_: Maybe ERT's big breakthrough was some new variety of supervirus...the Belmont siblings planned to combat overpopulation through biological warfare...someone found out and tried to sabotage the project_. A horrific possibility presented itself - what if Rolf was merely waiting for me to die? No, no - I shook my head. That was nonsense, reading people was one thing I did well, and Rolf Scharnhorst was not a bad man.

Just the same he's involved in this somehow, I know it...

Somewhere in the midst of this delirium I feel into a deep, climactic sleep.

[day four]

.....................................................................

[day five]

Sleepy....what was it happened? I was sick...

Memories began to return as I opened my eyes, feeling as though I had slept a year - deep and dreamless had been my rest, the kind of sleep one usually only gets early in the night, from which the body gains the most regeneration. I could not tell on my own what time of day it was, as it was raining outside; a dark and cloudy day of the sort Seattle is known for. The scent of rain and damp earth was drifting in from a cracked window, sharper and more noticeable than normal, though, I supposed, probably only because I had just woken from a deep sleep, I was more likely to take notice of scents and sounds. Still, it was a pleasant, comforting scent.

Gradually as I shook sleep away I realised my body no longer ached. Certainly I still felt traces of discomfort; a light headache, and lingering hints of aching in some of my joints, but the horrible cramping of my stomach was gone - in fact, I felt ravenously hungry. What sounds good for breakfast....sausage perhaps...

I took my phone off the nightstand and pressed to see what time it was. Yikes, 1:23pm on Sunday....I couldn't have slept for over 24 hours...could I?

Climbing out of bed, I awoke my laptop and checked the time. Sure enough, 1:24pm, Sunday. Now that was odd, really. I had never in my life slept for more than perhaps 10 hours at a time, tops. Probably because I've been so sick, my body needed an unusually long rest to recover.

I checked the messages on the phone, finding two from Rolf - both of which inquired as to my condition and urged me to call if I wasn't getting better. He was worried about something, certainly, but thankfully, I seemed to be on the mend. Whatever horribly malady was brought about by the incident at the lab, I apparently did not have it.

I'll call him in a few hours. First, though, I had to deal with my appetite.

It was strange, really, that after feeling so entirely horrid two days previous I should be almost entirely well now, but perhaps that was the nature of the bug - a quick and nasty illness that swept through its victims brutally but without lingering. Oh well. Dismissing further thoughts on the subject, I took a change of clothes and went into the bathroom. After not brushing my teeth for several days, my mouth felt much too disgusting for me to eat without first brushing, and I was in bad need of a shower as well.

That's odd...a loose tooth? I removed the buzzing toothbrush, put finger against the suspicious molar, and flexed. The movement was just barely perceivable, but it was there. Probably nothing, and while I certainly wasn't relishing a future dentist visit, there was no point in getting upset over the possibility. Putting the toothbrush aside, I turned on the shower, got into it, and grabbed a bar of soap. Best to look nice in case of the odd chance I saw Rolf later...

I began soaping myself up, washing all the usual places without devoting much thought or attention to it, humming lowly to myself. Interesting...my armpits seem to have more hair than they used to... As I slid the soap bar downward I noticed that while my pubic hair did not seem any more wild than usual, the pleasure trail up from it did appear to be wider than I remembered, and went farther up, past my naval almost to my pecs...which, now that I thought of it, had a mild amount of hair between them too.

Shrugging, I finished soaping up and turned around to wash off the soap. I didn't usually pay much attention to my body hair; now I supposed I was merely getting more for some age-related reason - and I wasn't going to complain. After all, Rolf didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd like hairless men anyway. Not with him being the studly type that he was...

Shamelessly I envisioned what Rolf looked like out of all that lab gear, causing my dick to rise a little as I shampooed my hair. Okay, more than a little, I had a full hard-on as I dried myself off and got out of the shower. I gave it a few quick rubs as I finished towelling off, but nothing too extensive, I was too hungry to want to have a full jerk-off session right now.

Reaching for my boxers, I began to pull them up my legs, glancing in the mirror as I did so...wow...my ass is really getting hairy all of a sudden...I looked closer, and subconsciously reached around to feel my cheeks. Sure enough, the mirror hadn't lied - my ass was indeed quite hairy.

I admired myself for a second or two before finishing getting dressed. I'm a little hairier than I was when I was younger, interesting. By this point my appetite was really raging, no surprise really considering I hadn't eaten in days, so I combed down my hair and went out to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Scents of various meats, vegetables, and dairy products rose as I opened the door of my refrigerator, searching for a package of sausage I knew I had leftover. The unusual degree of smell made me wonder if some of my food was starting to go bad, which after not having been looked at for several days was probably a legit concern. Making a mental note to clean out the frig later, I took out some eggs to scramble, and put a couple pieces of bread in the toaster.

These last two food items were mostly because I generally tried to maintain a healthy diet, not because I felt particularly inclined to eating them at the moment. Even as I cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them, my attention was on the sausages, already sizzling in a pan. Man I'm really craving meat this morning...I must be short of protein. It was not particularly unusual for people to get cravings for this or that food on the occasion, but it was almost strange how much my stomach growled for the meat - I was even tempted to eat it half-raw. _It smells so good...it really won't hurt if I eat it now will it..._Wait, what was I thinking?

Shaking my head at myself, I stirred the scrambled eggs until they were done for perfection, too hungry to bother seasoning them or adding in anything. The toast was done, but even after I'd buttered it, it neither looked or smelled appealing. I carried the food to my table, sat, and instantly began chowing into the sausage, eating it quickly and hungrily, so the juices ran down my chin and over my hands. Hands? I don't normally eat meat with my hands.... Oh well. So, I was hungry, desperate hunger calls for desperate measures.

I ate the sausages - three large ones - in less than three minutes. Afterwards I blinked, considered the rarity of my hunger, and once again reasoned that such was not surprising behaviour after going several days without food. The eggs followed at almost equal speed, followed by the toast, which I unenthusiastically crunched.

Afterwards, I felt surprisingly...tired.

Odd, that. I just slept for over a day and I'm tired? I carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen, rinsed them off, and sighed. It had been maybe an hour since I'd woke up, which meant it was still a few hours short of the evening, at which time I was supposed to check in with Rolf.

My supervisor had said I was getting paid to take a week off. Well, why not relax then? Fine, I was feeling a bit strange. What did it matter? I had a few more days off, at least, in which to get myself feeling back to normal.

It is a little odd that my supervisor hasn't called me back yet...probably she's just busy.

Actually there seems to be a lot of odd things going on today...

I went back to the bedroom and began straightening up the disorder leftover from the days of illness. I felt good for the most part, though my jaw did feel oddly sore, a lingering kind of aching like that you have just after a visit to the dentist. Remembering the loose tooth, I stuck a finger in my mouth, felt for the tooth in question, and wiggled it. Once again there was a slight wobbling.

**************************************************

I guess I'll watch a movie.

What I'd do, I thought, was watch a movie, then perhaps write or edit for a while, then call Rolf. He'd probably be relieved to know I hadn't caught anything at his lab, and perhaps we could schedule a date for, if not tonight, tomorrow evening?

It would be the one time in my life I could actually look forward to Monday.

These pleasant possibilities brightened my mood, and I felt slightly less sleepy. Unconsciously I began scratching at my chest, which felt strangely itchy, as I went to the bathroom sink to get a quick drink of water before.

It was as if I no longer understood my own body.

This is what happened: I brought the cup to my lips, prepared to drink, and...why the hell am I trying to lap this? I stared incredulously at my reflection, eyebrows raised. I felt perfectly normal, but for some reason, instead of drinking the water, I had tried to lap it up like an animal, an impulse that had passed almost instantly, but which left me wondering what had gotten into me.

Not only that, but why was I feeling so damned itchy? Putting aside the cup of water, I pulled off my T-shirt, laying it on the counter, and glanced in the mirror to study my body for signs of a rash, an insect, or whatever other malady might be likely to cause itchiness.

My jaw fell open, my eyes widened, and I uttered a confused "What the....?" No, an hour earlier I had thought the amount of body hair in my armpits and my pleasure trail seemed more excessive than usual, but it couldn't have been like this, spread over my chest like that of a mountain man, spilling out of my armpits into the surrounding area, covering my belly in a tangle of short dark hairs. It was not such amounts of body hair was unheard of - I had seen men who had more than I now had - no, what made it inconceivable was that I had never been a particularly hairy guy, and even more crucially, just an hour early I had examined myself and found far less hair than I know clearly saw evidenced on my body.

Suddenly curious, I held up my arm. Just as I feared, the amount of hair on it seemed to have increased. _How did I miss that?_Reaching down I unzipped my jeans and slid them down my legs, quickly followed by my underwear.

My legs, which prior to this day had been the hairiest part of my body, my head and groin excluded, were now even more a tangled thick of hair, indeed it seemed to have spread downwards from my groin over parts of my leg in which previously it had been sparse. Some of the thicker areas below my knee seemed so thick that seeing my skin was somewhat difficult unless I bent down to study it closely, either that or my skin, too, was darkening. My ass is probably just as bad...I turned to get a side-profile. Yep, man I'm pretty hairy back there. Somewhat self-consciously I reached back, massaging both cheeks, feeling the course coat of hair now spreading across my skin.

Despite all these increases in hairiness on other parts of my body, my groin did not seem to have acquired any new hair growth; in fact, it seemed slightly less hairy than usual. It was while taking notice of this fact I made a different discovery: wait...are my balls growing?

It seemed even more unbelievable than my newfound hairiness, but as I reached down to cup my sac and inspect the orbs it held, it seemed undeniable. Fuck, they're twice as big as before... I hadn't paid any unusual amount of attention to my balls during the shower that morning, in fact I'd been in a hurry due to my hunger, but now it was clearly apparently that I had jewels the size of small lemons, almost twice as large as they had always been before. Mmm, nice and heavy...suddenly the other changes to my body didn't seem so horrifying.

I continued to stand there naked in front of the mirror for another moment or two, rolling my orbs in my hand and admiring them. Unlike the rest of my body they didn't seem overly hairy, just larger; if anything the skin was a little darker, though. A little extra hair is worth the price of big balls... The skin seemed somewhat tighter than I remembered, but perhaps that was just the result of housing larger orbs than it previously had. A rather musky odour drifted up from my groin as I examined my equipment, a stronger smell than I had ever noticed myself having before. I sniffed it, and my cock throbbed, and stiffened a little.

But what caused these changes? I now doubted the incident at the lab had something to do with it; this seemed like the work of a steroid or some other such supplement, not anything I could get merely by breathing. I haven't had any steroid injections though...a hormonal imbalance of some sort, perhaps...

Rolf might know, not that I was necessarily going to directly ask him. It wasn't the evening yet, but the fact that he'd called twice was enough excuse to call him early, right? I dressed, giving my balls a final fondle before stuffing them into my boxers, then went out into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed while I found Rolf in the recent calls section of my phone and dialled him.

He answered on the second ring. "Hey, Jürgen. Feeling any better?"

"Much better. Whatever it was seems to have passed. I trust you're well?"

"Glad to hear it. And, yeah, I'm fine" He sounds distracted, I wonder if he's at work...

"So when sounds good for a rescheduling?"

"Uh, I'm kind of busy at the moment, can we schedule for, say, Wednesday?"

Wednesday?Okay, so he's busy. Probably not such a bad thing, honestly; a few days gave me a chance to get this hormonal imbalance, or whatever it was, under control. "That works for me. Any word on when we can go back to work?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Why do I have the vague impression he's lying to me..

"Very well. I haven't heard from my supervisor so I wondered. No reason to complain about a few paid days off, though."

"Certainly not. Alright Jürgen, I have to go - talk to you soon, alright?"

I set the phone on the bed beside and considered the implications of Rolf's word, absentmindedly scratching one of my increasingly hairy legs. Rolf had sounded distracted and vague the entire conversation, as if he didn't want to go into too much detail. I remained convinced he'd not been telling the truth, and that whatever he'd been occupied with during our conversation, it had to have something to do with the incident at the lab. What was he doing - cleaning up the mess? Tracking down those responsible? Curious, I switched on my computer and checked for articles on the incident, but interestingly, there was hardly any media coverage or mention of it at all. A minor blurb from several days before stated that release of a chemical of moderate danger in one of ERT's labs had caused some evacuation of the facility, but it was neither life-threatening nor thought to be likely to cause continued issues at the complex.

And yet, here it was five days later and there was still no word as to when we'd get to go back to work.

Maybe I'm being too quick to suspect Rolf of untruthfulness....maybe he's just reserved. Nothing would be accomplished by overthinking the situation, anyway. Shrugging, I went out to the living room and switched on the television to see if anything worth watching was on, arranging myself comfortably on the sofa. I had just started clicking through channels when, without much thinking about it, I started picking at a spot in my teeth where a tiny strip of sausage had lodged itself between two teeth. To my complete surprise, both teeth were loose - not horribly so, but definitely far more so than should have been normal.

One that morning, more later - something wasn't right here. Suddenly nervous, I began feeling all my teeth one by one, praying I wouldn't feeling the wobbling looseness on all of them. Loose....loose...another one? My mouth snapped shut, the TV forgotten. _Extra body hair...larger balls...loose teeth...what is happening to me?_The feeling reminded me of being a child and having my baby teeth fall out, but that was a sensation I'd thought I'd have to feel only once, not again years later. Just like how after you get a splinter in your finger you can't stop picking at it until it's been removed, I couldn't leave my teeth alone; I kept wiggling them, as if trying to convince myself that even though they were loose, they were not so enough to fall out. I hoped.

The last time I picked at my teeth, my finger came away with a little blood on it. Were my gums swollen earlier? I couldn't remember, but almost instantaneously I realised they were, uncomfortably swollen up against my loosening teeth, and now, apparently, bleeding too, though whether on their own accord or from my tooth-wiggling, I could not say. My entire jaw still ached, not so much in the sense of a painful unignorable ache, but rather the kind that settles into you so solidly that you forget it's there.

I tried to watch TV, but that unanswerable question, what's happening to me, could not be ignored.

****************************************************

Lingering scents of meat...sausage...hungry again...face hurts...

When I awoke it was night.

I had fallen asleep so quickly I could not remember the exact moment it had happened; what my last thoughts had been; what I had been watching on television. The wave of nausea had apparently been so sudden as to put me out instantly, and now, groggily rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I realised I must have slept the rest of the afternoon.

My stomach was growling, possibly because I could still smell the sausage I'd cooked hours earlier. Food smells typically did not last this long, but I didn't give it much thought; that had after all been some pretty savoury sausage_. I wonder why I'm so exhausted..._I got up from the sofa, switched off the TV, to which I felt an unusual degree of indifference, and turned on the light, illuminating myself as I did so.

The growth of hair had spread from my arms to the top of my hands, which was odd enough, but that was no longer the only change I could make out. My hands seemed almost emaciated, the bones of the top of the hand rising up rigidly against tightly-stretched skin, while, though I wasn't sure if I wasn't imagining it, my thumbs seemed to have moved a little farther away from my fingers, back towards my wrist. I flexed them a few times, blinking. Still working fine...but I could swear they've moved...Wait, what?

My curious eyes centred in on the nail of my thumb. The nail itself was unchanged, but below it a dark shadow now marred the previously pink skin underneath the nail; a rounded spot of darkness suspiciously dark in appearance. It hinted at something solid growing up from beneath the nail. If one thumb has that, then what of the others...quickly I checked each finger. Without exception, every one had hints of a dark solid mass beneath the fingernail.

Shakily I took a deep breath and swallowed, biting my lip. I had no doubt that something was very, very wrong with me. I could have put off the extra body hair, larger balls, and even the loose teeth as hormonal imbalances or strange oral inconsistencies, but no, I couldn't use those excuses now, not when my hand was physically changed, morphing into I knew not what. Who could say what those dark spots under my nails were, or what would happen once (if?) they sprouted; nor could I ignore that my thumbs had moved closer to my wrist..._can I even grip things properly anymore?_Nervously I grabbed the TV remote, wrapping fingers and thumb around it. The grip was acceptable but nowhere near what it should have been.

I almost didn't want to examine my body further to see if anything else had changed. I won't look, there's no need to, it's just my hands...I forced myself to walk into the kitchen. I'll just get something to eat...then I'll look...maybe. I had got out some steaks to thaw earlier, and now I put on a pot of water to boil some pasta, and another to broil some peas. The sight of the water reminded me I was very thirsty, so I got out a short glass, filled it with water, and brought it to my mouth. As I did my best to lap up the water - my tongue was frustratingly short, although it might have lengthened a little bit - I considered what I might do about my predicament.

Despite the gravity of the situation, visiting a hospital did not seem wise. While it was possible they might be able to tell me I had some rare condition, more likely I'd be shipped off to some lab where I'd be subjected to the pokes, prodding, and endless harassment of doctors and scientists, amazed by the fact that my body was changing - how, or to what end, one could only guess. This meant I was alone to deal with whatever it was - I could call friends, but did I really want to freak them out? Likewise calling my parents would accomplish nothing beyond worrying them. Vaguely as I put aside the mostly-empty glass I wondered whether I should confide in Rolf. After all, he was a scientist and one likely to be curious about what was happening, but beyond that he was also, I believed, a genuinely nice guy.

Well. If I hadn't improved by Wednesday, he'd be seeing me as I was anyway. I'd just have to pray I started recovering - if one could recover from such strange changes - before then. So resolved, I grabbed one of the big steaks and walked out of the kitchen, gnawing on the side of it with my increasingly loose teeth. Blood dripped from the steak to the floor, and I tried mostly unsuccessfully to lick it all away, not wanting to waste the tasty juices. The coppery tang of the blood and the warm fresh taste of the steak, ripened a little by sitting out all afternoon, brightened my mood, even if my thumb couldn't grip the meat quite as well as it would have the day before.

I did notice as I walked around that my feet felt a bit off, as if they weren't landing quite right, and my now-larger balls felt just a little squished inside my well-fitted jeans. For the moment however I paid very little attention to these two possible discomforts, instead focusing my attention solely on chowing down on my steak, chewing it as best as my teeth would allow. I had eaten about three-fourths of it when suddenly I bit down hard on one of the thicker parts of the meet and heard a crunch within my mouth. Uh oh.

Even as I pulled out the steak I could taste my own blood through the tang of the steak, and feel the now-detached tooth laying across my tongue. Grimacing, I spit it out into my paw. It was a molar, the first of these on the lower left side of my jaws. Damn. I was afraid this would happen from the time I noticed how loose they were getting, but now it's actually happening....getting them replaced will cost me dearly. Still holding the remains of my steak, I reached into my mouth and felt around for the place where the tooth had come from, expecting to feel a gap between the other teeth, which would contain bare gums and perhaps the bone of my lower jaw.

To my shock, while there was indeed a gap from which the tooth had detached, it was neither gums nor bone which my finger touched - it was another tooth. _It's not another molar...or if it is, not like any molar I've ever seen...almost sharp..._The new tooth was not entirely raised yet, still set deeply into the bone from which it was rising, but already I could feel that it was much larger than the tooth it had displaced, and that instead of having a crater in its centre, as the previous tooth had - as all molars had, it rose inward on both slides, sloped up, and met in a sharp centre. A molar still, but in some ways more like a canine.

I couldn't even begin to figure what this meant. I'm losing teeth now...I glanced at the old tooth. Its underside had been worn out, as the larger tooth rose apparently, just as my baby teeth had appeared after coming out. Apparently the new teeth are growing up from underneath and replacing the adult teeth just like the adult teeth replaced the baby teeth....these new teeth are so much bigger, though...

Another testing feel inside my mouth revealed that almost all my teeth were loose. The next molar after the extracted one was so loose in fact that it dislodged just from being wiggled, and once again I had a faint taste of blood, a detached tooth in my mouth, and the hard, sharp incline of a new tooth rising from the old one's place.

I stood there uncertainly in the living room for a moment before finally going back to eating my steak, feeling my teeth flex and tremble as I did so. The two extracted teeth were deposited on the dining room table, where they would remain until I had figured out what to do about them. As it was I lost a third tooth while eating the rest of the steak. It was then I sniffed the air and caught the smell of something burning.

It was the two pans, of course, which I had put on to boil or broil. The pasta was fine, considering there was a great deal of water in its pan and it hadn't been boiling long enough to evaporate entirely, but the peas were another matter - the water underneath the broiler had all evaporated, and the bottom of the pan was burning. I had forgotten about them entirely, in fact, I did not even remember having put them on until I got into the kitchen and saw the smoking burner. As I switched them off I glanced at the second steak.

The pasta was done, and the peas, while dreadfully overcooked, might be salvageable - but I felt an unusual apathy towards them. While the remaining steak looked absolutely delicious, the pasta and peas inspired no pangs of hunger. It wasn't so much that I disliked them, merely they were not of interest to me. Hesitantly I leaned forward and sniffed the contents of both pans. No protein...no blood...nothing. I grabbed the second steak and left the rest of what had been intended as my meal without a backwards glance.

**************************************************

I lost three more teeth while eating the second steak, and a seventh tooth came out shortly thereafter. By the time this last one was adding to the growing stack on the dining room table, my horror was beginning to fade into blind resignation. It now seemed apparent that all my teeth were on their way out; there seemed little point in fighting it. Sooner or later they'd all be laying on the table, and I'd have these strange new teeth, big and sharp, to replace them.

Unexplainable as it was, I couldn't stop checking out the changes. One of the newest lost teeth had been one of my front teeth, an incisor, and just like the molars, it was different - where the old tooth had been mostly thin and flat, the new one was long, girthy, and sharp. Indeed, the new teeth were so much larger I began to wonder how they'd all fit in my mouth.

After sitting down on the couch I licked off my fingers, insuring not a trace of blood remained on them. I just ate those steaks raw...but why wouldn't I? I remembered planning to cook them; I had even got a skillet out to fry them in. It seemed ludicrous now, on hindsight; the steak tasted just fine raw, much better than it would have cooked - cooking would have spoiled the flavour and cooked out some of the natural juices. I shook my head at myself. Not only is my body changing, I'm getting weird ideas, too. Cooking a steak, indeed.

As the night progressed I tried watching some television, but found I could not concentrate on it; my attention wandered, distracted by my own body, by the headlights of cars on the streets outside; by the barking of dogs in a house three lots down, and farther off, the siren that had set them to barking; by the rainfall on the roof; and by what seemed to be an increasing myriad of smells. _Rain...sausage grease...laundry soap...sweat...pasta..._I had never given my sense of smell much thought; it was not a sense I used often, but for some reason tonight I seemed to be able to scent more than usual. Perhaps this is another result of whatever is happening to me?

Finally I turned off the television, took out a magazine, and tried to read, but this was not really a successful venture either. For some reason my attention span was not just ideal; I could not concentrate on the reading much more than I had on the television, plus I was beginning to notice a strange sensation over much of my body - a kind of tingling numbness, not entirely unpleasant, coupled with a lightheadedness of the type you feel when extremely relaxed, such as when you are receiving a massage. It seemed to be over most of my body, though I noticed particular emphasis in certain parts of it - my feet, or my head, for example. The lower front of my face, particularly, felt abnormal, with the slightest hint tightness and strain, as if my nose and everything from it downward was straining forward. To make matters worse, my skin felt dry and itchy again. I hope that doesn't mean I'm getting hairier..

I was trying not to let these sensations distract me from my reading when the lightbulb on my lamp burned out.

Tossing the magazine aside, I got up and walked through the kitchen to the laundry room, in the cupboard of which I kept a few spare lightbulbs. My washer and drier were stacked together, one on top of the other, and as I passed them I happen to glance in them, and saw my reflection.

What the hell? My ears....

Spinning around, I switched off the laundry room light and walked quickly through the house, through the bedroom and into the master-bath, flipped on the light, and faced myself in the mirror. God, my reflection didn't lie...my nose! In confusion I lifted my hand and felt my nose, feeling the skin, rougher than normal with the faintest hint of dampness. I had always had a rather straight nose, but tonight it seemed to have began pointing upwards; my nostrils were slightly more exposed than before, and not only that, but the skin was darker, kind of a blue-black bruise colour, which covered only the tip of my nose and the skin around my nostrils. As I fingered the skin, wondering at the difference in feel from the skin of it to that of my cheeks, I could smell remnants of my steak dinner on my fingers.

And my ears....like an elf's, almost...plus my hair seems to be turning black...It was a strange face that I stared at, as if my own reflection had been blurred together with someone else's. I appeared to be wearing ear-extensions like those Orlando Bloom wore in Lord of the Rings, as the tips of my ears now had a pointy quality to their tips. I felt them too, being relieved to find that at least they didn't feel any different. My hair, on the other hand, definitely was; it seemed to be darker than natural, more black than brown, and surprisingly thick. When I reached up and felt my crown the hair seemed almost fur-like in its thickness. If this keeps up I'll have to get a new brand of shampoo...Better check the rest of myself.

I stripped down and examined the rest of my body, but for the most part I did not notice much difference from my last go-over. Sure, my flaccid cock seemed maybe a tiny bit longer than early, but that could have been just wishful thinking. My feet do look odd though....and sure enough, there it was. It took only a quick examination to confirm that every toe had a dark shadow underneath its nail, just like my fingers, and likewise, the top of both feet seemed stretched, bones more clearly evident. Moreover, while my toes and the front half of my foot still touched the floor normally, the area between it and my heel seemed unusually raised and shrunken. It was as I was puzzling over this change that I noticed one more: dark shadows underneath the skin of the underside of my toes, and as well under the greater part of the front of my foot. They did not look quite like the shadows under my nails, but they were shadows nonetheless, and hinting of something lying underneath, about to burst up. Even as I was looking at them I began noticing tightness in my feet, skin stretched too far over something that wanted out.

My nose twitched, picking up scents of toothpaste, bathwash, the sour scent of my damp bathmat, faint suggestions of my piss from the toilet. So many things happening to me...I couldn't understand it. Once again, my body was a mystery to me, and I let out a low whine of anxiety. My body was acting outside my control, and I had no one to turn to...

Scratching at my itchy skin, I pushed myself up, digging in my pocket for my phone. Damn. 3:18am...what time did I wake up? It had been in the mid-evening, around 9 perhaps. I'd better get to bed so I can operate on more ordinary hours tomorrow....try to do some writing maybe...if I can concentrate.

Ordinarily I would not have taken another shower, having just taken one only 13 hours earlier, but my skin was so itchy I couldn't help wanting another. It was getting difficult to keep my tongue, which did seem a little longer than normal, from playing with my loose teeth, which meant I succeeded in extracting a second incisor while in the shower, making 8 teeth lost. Two more molars and a lower incisor followed while I was brushing my teeth, so by the time I poured a cup of water for a late night drink, I'd lost over one third of my teeth. By that point, however, I was too confused and disillusioned to despair about it.

The sheets were cool and comforting against my persistently-itchy skin as I fell onto my bed. Sliding under the covers did have the unpleasant result of causing a minor jolt of pain from the area of my tailbone. Thinking I must have laid on some small object, I reached back and found....a small, slightly bone protrusion growing out of my tailbone. A tail? Or something like one, or merely a growth of some sort.

Another low whine escaped my mouth as I half-curled up in the bed, pulling my hairy legs to my chest, entirely bewildered. Maybe I was going insane.

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