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     September 23rd, 2010

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     I could have cried with relief when I finally started seeing buildings in the distance through the foliage. I hadn't set out to trek through this jungle for so long. One day is what it should have taken me to reach Lima from the dig site, Trek through the jungle to Pucallpa and a short flight over the mountains and there I would have been

     Now, it was three days after I'd started and I was only now getting to a city. Instead of just wanting to get laid because it would feel nice, I needed it, I needed it really badly. It was a good thing this city had come up now; the last time a jaguar attacked me it took all my willpower to just fight it off, and not rape it. I didn't want to think about what might happen if another one attacked me right now.

     I crossed the field separating the city from the jungle. Now that I could see the city better I wasn't surprise it wasn't as large as Pucallpa. I must have headed in the wrong direction after the first attack.

     The plan had been for me to sneak out in the middle of the night with a change of clothing, walk for two hours and then claw the clothes I was wearing apart, leaving them on the ground covered in blood. My wallet was to remain in my pocket so that when it was found everyone would know that Simon Wilner was dead.

     Things didn't quite work out that way. I walked into the den of a cougar, with cubs. I did end up with bloodied clothes, but by the time I fought it off enough so I could get away I was in pretty bad shape. I healed over the next hour, but I had already gotten myself lost at that point.

     The city wasn't Pucallpa, but at least it *was* a city. That meant I'd be able to find what I needed. All I had to do for that was follow my nose, but that's easier said then done when you're as horny as I was, with plenty of good smelling men around. Once I was able to think straight again I'd start working on the other problem I had.

     I attracted plenty of stares. The change of clothes I'd brought had a definite European cut to them, although as ripped as dirty as they were now maybe no one could tell. I had so hoped to get to Lima in a clean pair of stylish pants and shirt and I hadn't counted on loosing my shoes in the trek.

     As I explored the city looking for the neighborhood I needed I studied the architecture. It was far too modern, but here and there I could see the influence of the ancient Incas the local people were descended from. I could also see some Spanish trait marring that beauty.

     I was often distracted from my search by the smell of a horny man. Most of the time I noticed what was happening quickly enough that I just moved away from the smell, or went some place where the scent of women was stronger. A few times I found that I had been stalking one of them for a few minutes before I became conscious of what was happening. That made me mad; I hadn't lost control of myself like that since the first year I'd become a werewolf.

     I didn't need to see the way the men held themselves as they leaned in the doorways or their seductive smiles to know I had found the area I was looking for. The area was permeated with the scent of sex.

     I went to the closest man, Peru was probably one of the last place left where someone his age could be as short as I was. He looked to be eighteen or nineteen, dirty black straight hair and tanned skin without any stubble, which meant he was probably no more then sixteen. I took out a hundred dollar bill, American. Normally I wouldn't go with someone so young, and dirty. Normally I wouldn't even think of paying for sex either. I'd go to a club, hookup with a good looking guy and get a hotel room.

     But I needed sex right now. I had three days of pent up desire to work off or I wasn't going to be held accountable for what happened. So this kid was it.

     By the excitement in his voice he didn't seem to mind. I didn't understand the dialect, and I didn't care. He tried to reach for the bill but I took it away.

     "Once we're done," I said, in English. I groped him and indicated the alley next to us to make sure he understood. I didn't feel like wasting time finding the few words we might have in common when the gesture worked so much better.

     The Peruvian boy grabbed my hand and ran to a door. It almost fell off its hinges as he pulled it open and the stairs behind it didn't look like they could support both our weight. I didn't care. If they broke while we were on them and we fell through, I was taking him in the rubble. He climbed and his ass became even with my eye line. I licked my lips as I followed him. The way he was shaking it in front of me he'd better find a room quickly or I was going to rip his pants off in this stairwell.

     Before I lost control he took us to a small room, I barely noticed the mattress on the floor, the window and the decrepit walls. The smells in the room assaulted me. I could smell everything that had happened in this room for the last week; it was all sex.

     I growled and it took some concentration not to transform. I pushed the boy roughly and he landed face first on the bed. He protested playfully and turned on his back. I grabbed his legs and spun him back on his stomach. I kneeled between his legs and held him down. I ran a hand over that ass. It felt firm under the cotton.

     The boy protested again, not playfully this time, but I kept him down.

     "I don't care how you normally do this. You're doing it my way this time." Even if he'd understood English he might not have understood me. My voice barely sounded human.

     The pants were old and worn, they ripped easily when I pulled. Without the fabric as cushioning the ass was a little bony, but that didn't' matter; all that did was that it was there. I had just enough self control not to rip my own pants off as I freed my cock. I aimed it in and pushed. I didn't care about the pain of forcing it in unlubed or the boy's screams that accompanied the action. Feeling it go in felt so good.

     I released a sigh when I bottomed out. It felt like a lifetime since I'd felt my cock wrapped in such wonderful heat. I proceeded to fuck the boy long and hard. I wasn't going to stop until I'd worked off all of my pent up horniness.

     * * * * *

     When I finally pulled out of him and flopped on my back I'd lost track of how many orgasm I'd had. All I did remember is that at some point during all of it the boy had become completely silent. I waited a moment, I didn't really want to see the damage I'd done, but I had to look.

     "Fuck." I let my head fall back on the mattress. The boy's ass and bed were covered in blood, as was my crotch. I never liked rough sex. Slow and languid was the way to go.

     My eyes grew wide as I felt my cock getting hard again. I lifted my head to see it peeking over my stomach. "Like hell you will," I told it, "You've done enough damage already." I sat up and used what was left of the boy's pants to clean the worst of the blood from my crotch.

     I took the hundred and put it next to the boy. He didn't move, but he was still breathing. At least I hadn't killed him; that would really have sucked. I stood to leave and looked at him again. I took all the money I had and counted it; Two hundred fifty. All I really had to do was make a phone call to the US; I didn't need all of that. I put down the other two hundreds I had.

     The door burst open as I turned to leave. Four large and dirty Peruvian men entered, making a wall between me and the door. They were bulky, but only one was taller than I was.

     The two in the middle parted to let a fifth one in. This one was taller than all of us by a good six inches. He was also leaner, healthier looking and better dressed. I though I could see some European mixed in with his Peruvian features.

     This was the boy's pimp and his enforcers.

     The pimp looked calm as he looked at the bloody boy on the bed, the way he addressed me was also calm, but I could smell the anger coming off him.

     Good going Simon, I thought, as the man spoke, ten years in South America and not once did it occur to you to learn Spanish. Maybe you should have gotten out of the camp and actually mingled with the locals. It's not their fault the Spaniards took them over.

     "I'm sorry for hurting him. I've left extra money to pay for the doctor."

     The pimp's look went from neutral to angry in a fraction of a second. He screamed something.

     "Look," I say calmly, "unless you can speak English, French, Latin, Russian or Chinese you wasting your breath." I knew I was wasting my breath, but I was hoping the none threatening tone and body language would calm him down. "How about Swahili or maybe Hindi?"

     It didn't work.

     He signaled two of the burly Peruvians and they moved toward me with clenched fist. The room was barely large enough to fit the four of them side by side. With the mattress and boy on it I had the advantage, even without my training.

     The one on the right swung, I dodged under and he almost hit his friend. I blocked the next one and moved back on the mattress, stepping over the boy. As old as it was it hardly had any spring left to it, I hadn't noticed that while I'd been fucking him. I avoided the next two blows as I got ready for the next one. I caught it, pulled the man toward me as I turned and threw him out the window.

     For someone as short as I was Judo had been a natural thing to learn; using others size and strength against them and all that. But it wasn't the first art I learned.

     I slipped under the other man's reach and punched him in the chest with much more strength than someone standing at five four and hardly weighing a hundred thirty pounds had any right to. He flew back. The pimp had to jump out of the way and the thug crumbled in the corridor.

     The other two came at me. Yelling together they were a mirror image of each other as they tried to punch me. I dove under the fists and between them, rolled and turned. Before they even realized I was now behind them my foot was against the one on the left and I shoved him out the window. He tried to stop his fall by grabbing the windowsill, but the old wood just ripped out.

     The last thug turned and was surprised to see me already in his face. His eyes grew wide and started watering after I kneed him. He slowly went down to his knees, hands covering his groin. He curled up on the floor whimpering

     I turned and looked the pimp over. I took the four short steps separating us. The man stayed in front of the door, looking down at me, but I could smell his terror.

     I slowly closed my fists until the knuckles cracked. "I'm leaving. You can either move out of the way or I can go through you, your choice." Just to be sure he knew what I was talking about I motioned with a nod of the head for him to get out of my way.

     He looked me in the eyes with a hard gaze, but then took a step to the side. It gave me just enough space to squeeze by.

     "Good doing business with you," I commented as I went down the stairs. Outside one of the thugs was slowly getting back to his feet. He looked at me with a mix of anger and fear.

     * * * * *

     I whistled as I crossed the city. It was an old tune from my youth. I never learned the name of it, I just remembered someone singing it as we worked in the mine. It had always stuck with me.

     I felt better now that my cock wasn't in control. I wasn't even bothered by who ever it was following me, probably one of the pimp's men looking for revenge. I'd caught sight of him from the corner of my eye, but he stayed far for now. I didn't worry. When ever he caught up with me I'd teach him a lesson. It was probably going to happen before the end of the day.

     The only place with a phone was the post office. Explaining to the woman what I wanted to do proved difficult since she didn't speak English but eventually I managed to get the message across. I gave her the number I needed called and she indicated one of the booth.

     It was ringing when I entered it and closed the door. I picked it up and it rang once more. The line on the other end clicked and then silence. Thirty seconds later it clicked again, and still silence.

     "Come on Harker, pick it up."

     "Hey Simon, how's it going?" a young sounding man said a moment later.

     "Hi Harker, I've had better days," I replied. Harker was my identity man. The one I went to when I needed to become someone else. I missed the good old days, when all I had to do to reinvent myself was move to a different country. Even forty years ago all I needed was a couple of forged papers. Now with all the computers and scanners and mandatory IDs I had to go through someone like him. At east he was trustworthy.

     "I would have thought Lima would agree with you; all that modern convenience right next to those historical places."

     I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. "Yeah, it might, if I was there. I'm in a place called Puerto Inca. Can you send my ID pouch here instead?"

     There was a moment of silence. "Err, no. Remember when we set all of this up? I asked you to make sure you knew where you wanted it sent."

     "I know, it's not like I planned to end up here."

     "It doesn't matter. Do you have any idea how long it took for me to arrange to have everything in place? I'm not just talking about getting your Berger ID perfectly setup across five continents, but making sure everything is there for you to pick up."

     "No, I don't. But it's not like you have anything else to do."

     "Hey," he said indignantly, "I'll have you know I have a life, ok?"

     I sighed. "Can't be much of a life, you never leave your mother's basement. Do you even get laid?"

     "I have as good a sex life as anyone, hell even as good as yours I'm willing to bet. Maybe if you were a little more up on the times you'd know that I don't need to leave the house to met guys. That's what the internet is for. And I'll have you know that it's *my* house now."

     "Hey, good for you," I replied with derision, "How'd that happen? You're mother decided to move to a retirement home and said you couldn't come along with her?"

     There was a moment of silence.

     "She died," Harker said angrily through clenched teeth.

     Oh. Fuck.

     "Oh man. I'm so sorry." How was it that I kept finding ways to put my feet in my mouth when it came to death?

     "It's ok," Harker said after calming himself, "I know you didn't really mean it, but try to remember that some of us do grow old and die."

     "I know," I replied meekly.

     "You still have the key to the deposit box, right?"

     I patted my pocked. "Yes, I do."

     "Good. You'll find everything you need in there; French passport, birth certificate, credit cards the information for your back account. I've also transferred the deed to your apartment building to your new ID.There's a return ticket for Paris as well as the stub of the one that brought Simon Berger to Lima two weeks ago and everything else you'll need to adjust."

     I had to stop myself from correcting him over the pronunciation of my new last name; it wasn't an American name, it was French. "Thanks for everything. I'm sorry for being an insensitive jackass. I promise I won't bother you again unless something goes wrong."

     "Have a good trip then," Harker said before hanging up.

     I hung up the phone too, but I didn't leave the booth. I leaned against the wall hugging myself as I processed Harker's mother's passing.

     I guess people would think it's ironic that someone who spent most of his time studying dead people and dead civilizations would get so shaken when someone died, let alone someone I barely knew.

     The Incas, Mayans, the people of medieval Europe or any of the other places, weren't dead people in my eyes, they were a puzzle to be solved.

     When someone I'd met died it was a harsh reminder that everything around me changed, that I couldn't afford to get too close to anyone because they would just leave me too.

     I shook myself and forced her out of my head. It was easy to do this time since I'd only met her once, the first time I'd used Harker to set up a new Identity. When I went there to pay for this one she had been out.

     I tried to get some change back from the woman at the counter, but she wouldn't give me any, saying the same thing over and over and pointing at the booth I'd just used. The call hadn't been that long, but I didn't feel like arguing with her, or frightening her into giving it.

     I could always pick someone's pocket for the bus money.

     Immediately after leaving the post office I felt the eyes back on me. I was tired from the call and I really didn't want to stretch this hunt any longer than it had to. I sped up my steps to see how determined he was to follow me. The man kept up the pace, so I started running.

     He didn't bother hiding as he ran after me. I look over my shoulder once in a while and I saw red brown hair blowing in the wind. None of the thugs had had red hair, but I focused on my steps on the uneven ground instead of that.

     I turned into the alleys side stepping trash piles and ducking under clotheslines. I was running as fast as I could. I really didn't care if I lost him, but he managed to stick to me.

     I wasn't paying attentions to the turns I was making. If I got lost I'd deal with that after I'd dealt with him. I made one more turn and found that the alley ended only ten feet in front of me. I couldn't go back because I could hear my follower coming close.

     All I could do was hope I could take him by surprise as I plastered myself against the wall. The man took the turn without slowing down. He was ready to keep pursuing me it seemed. He tried to stop when he saw me, and then the end of the alley, but I grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall. My strength added to his speed made the adobe crack and pieces of it fall.

     I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall again before wrapping a hand around his throat and lifting him until his feet weren't touching the ground anymore. The man grabbed my arm and tried to make me let go of him. He was a little taller than I was, and I was surprised that he wasn't Peruvian. At a quick glance he looked to be from the north of China.

     I was even more surprised when he growled and started changing. His pale skin grew golden as fur grew and his hair turned into a mane. He also gained a foot in height. I tightened my grip around the werelion's neck and lifted him higher. I wasn't letting go of him until I knew what this was about. If I had to change too, fine; it wasn't like I could ruin these clothes more than they were.

     "Ah wouldn't do that if I was you friend," someone behind me said in a familiar southern drawl.

     And I felt the muzzle of a revolver pressed against the back of my head.