Jack looked at his girlfriend as he did. He really contemplated what just happened, her sobbing, her total and complete fear at the fact he had just been attacked out in the backyard like that. That he was attacked in a space she had thought would be safe and maybe even sacred, and she was obviously afraid already. Let alone the reality of what he was about to try and tell her. How in the world could he even begin to tell her about this? "Hey babe, I'm afflicted with a curse that causes me to turn into a raging hairball three days every month." There was no way to make that sound anything but completely insane! There was also the shift he underwent at the old BART tunnel, making Jack realize there might be more to the shifts than just phases in the moon. It seemed to respond to his distress.
Which made him very grateful indeed that he hadn't been so affected by distress out there and handled himself well enough that he didn't transform in the backyard. Jack really did not trust the werewolf to spare his girlfriend its wrath and hunger during the course of its lunacy... He would need to find a way to handle this himself for now. "Oh I just uhh...felt like telling you I really enjoy these opportunities. We should do this more often."
Vicki paused and evaluated that statement, but then immediately went back to kissing him again as soon as she was done. She definitely seemed weirded out by the conversation shift, but she didn't want to make anything of it it seemed. "I'm just glad I can get you away from those awful step-parents of yours. I don't know why you insist on doing work for them at all..."
"Hey, a guy's gotta make a living somehow." Jack shrugged, thinking back to his step-parents. Did they...did they know about that awful book that had been on his bed? Somehow he doubted it. They barely involved themselves at all with the collections and items of his real parents, except when they wanted to sell something for a heavy profit. Money and fame were their sole concern, and the only two things they cared about. Well, that and philandering. He doubted they had any idea about the dark book and its effect on Jack.
Vicki seemed to pause again as she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his back. "Did you...overwork your back or something? Spine feels weird."
"Oh uhh, yeah probably I think. Hit the workout a little too hard last time." Jack covered for the shift, observing as the movie she selected played out. Trying to distract, he then commented, "Wow we're going from a great werewolf movie to a bad one. Gotta say though, Howling II has SOMETHING in it I can't help but enjoy."
"You pervert!" Vicki flicked his forehead and observed the scenes playing out in the movie, "Though I don't exactly blame you. I'd become a creature of the night if I could get a figure like Sybil Danning." She started moving to get Jack's pants down again, and straddled him, pressing his organ between her thighs.
The young werewolf groaned and felt himself urging onward. He did admit he loved and hated it when she teased him like that. Though he hoped she wouldn't discover any prophetic quality to that errant yearning. One werewolf in the house was enough as far as Jack was concerned. This was definitely not a good movie, but...ooh, it was definitely good background noise for mid to late afternoon lovemaking. Jack groaned as he felt her starting to slide him inside of her again.
Hopefully there would be no gross distractions this time!
Vicki commented as she felt him thrusting in gently at first then, with a smirk, putting a bit more force into it, "Something seems...ooh, different about your dick today, Jack...different...but good."
Well, different but good was a start. At least she wasn't leaping right to linking him to the subject matter on the small screen! He lightly bit his lip and tried to keep control of himself as he started thrusting, repositioning him and her on the couch, so he was poised on top of her. Legs flexing and helping him piston his ass, Jack started grunting as he felt the urge to just let it shoot. But he was experienced enough by now to keep control of himself at least as he was now.
Her moans were urging him on though, and he could tell that she was enjoying herself again. Jack gripped the side of the couch and started giving it a harder touch. He knew his fingernails were a bit sharper than usual, so when he gripped her breast in his hand he did exercise some more caution even as he felt incredible pleasure. Muscles going taut and covered in sweat, Jack kept going. He could not let his worries stop him.
A loud gasp and moan from Vicki in time with one of the more infamous shots in the movie told Jack that she was experiencing her own orgasm right now...the first of what would be multiple. Jack however just grit his teeth, noting there was a sharpness there in some of his incisors that hadn't been there before, and kept going. He shifted his posture several times to try and put off what he knew was going to be coming. He didn't know if copulation with a werewolf would have any effect on a girl, so when the time came and Vicki shouted for him to go ahead, Jack instead managed to withdraw.
Just in time for a larger than normal emission on her stomach, his breath almost catching in his throat as he fell forward, catching himself only inches from her face. The two lovers awkwardly smiled at one another and then got up. Jack breathed and looked himself over. The time was getting closer and closer... As for Vicki she just sighed, "I'm on the pill you know, it's no problem. Were you just feeling nervous?"
"Well...uhh, yeah, sorry about that." Jack grinned a little and sat back in the couch alongside her to watch the movie to completion. He didn't particularly like the special effects and the werewolf costuming was embarrassingly bad, but there was a corny sort of thrill to it. Well, that and Sybil Danning's tits. He leaned back and felt like commenting that the werewolf witch in the movie did NOT just try and do some sort of mental battle with Christopher "Saruman of Many Colors" Lee.
Eh, his girlfriend seemed to find it all funny---and what the FUCK was that ending?
He got up from the couch, seeing as it was just he and her here he didn't even bother to put on any clothes seeing as she hadn't so far. Maybe it was just the exertion from sex earlier, but he was really feeling like some food. Usually Jack would prefer a healthy balance of foods, but right now he was more or less feeling like a total meat meal. Seemed she had some nice steak and pork in the fridge. Even as Jack prepared his food, he looked out the window toward the backyard.
He was going to need to try and get in touch with Detective Battle or the police department in general to see about getting his girlfriend more security. The zombies out there had gotten unnervingly close. Though Jack had to wonder as he bit into a large slice of steak if the master of those uncanny undead was just spying on him, or if they'd have attacked the Victorian itself if Jack had not noticed their presence. Either way it was remarkably unusual.
But looking outside and seeing the sun starting to crest and descend, he realized he had other problems to deal with.
His plan for the mansion would've been simple. He knew from experience and prior dates there was a cellar with a particularly strong door down in the bottom of the place, in the basement. It was a long flight of stairs down and another door at the basement entrance. He looked down at his hand, at the slightly longer nails and then up at the hairs that seemed slightly darker and a little more numerous on his arm. Had it been anyone else they might've brushed it all off. But for Jack, someone so attuned to and with a job based on appearance?
The werewolf to be spotted these smaller foreshadowing changes along with the bigger ones that indicated what was due to happen tonight.
Jack finished his meal and went back in to try again to talk to his girlfriend, "Hey babe, I was just thinking about something. I'll uhh, I'll use the guest bedroom tonight if it's no problem." Jack knew that room well enough to know it had a stairwell near it that went down close enough to the basement to make the trek easy even if it was a particularly intense night for him.
"Aww, and you won't join me in the master bedroom? Suit yourself, mister." She said in a teasing tone, though it was obvious she respected his wishes. Jack liked that about her. Now there was just the anxiety and the wonder of when the transformation was due to begin. He guessed the moon would start to rise at something like 7 or 8 at the dusk hours, but maybe it would need to be night for the transformation to engage. He knew so vanishingly little of his own condition. Perhaps this was an indication he needed to find an expert.
-------------------
As the dusk went on into the night, the more body heat Jack seemed to radiate. He had waved off his girlfriend's concerns over his sweat and his somewhat reddened face with the excuse he had been doing some body weight exercises by himself. He hadn't but looking at himself in a nearby mirror, Jack could see his muscles seemed to be primed. Ready to move, flex and push. Ready to shift and change. And he could tell even if his girlfriend couldn't that the hair on his chest and jawline was just a little bit thicker. He was gonna need to be ready sooner rather than later.
Thus did Jack stumble down toward the basement and the cellar stairwell located within. He knew that he was very close to transforming outright, and this being his first night, he did not know how long it was going to be that he could hold it off. Jack took out his cellphone and even through the bleary eyes slowly turning gold he could see 10:32. "F-Fuck..." Jack looked down at himself and morbidly chuckled when he saw the protrusion at his groin and the corresponding and growing ache at the base of his spine.
"I don't know if I'm turned on somehow from all the blood rushing everywhere, or if its all fear..." Jack burned, but it was a heady, dangerously exotic burn. The best he could compare it to was the feeling of going on some sort of dangerous, new drug. And that made the aberrant model worry that he might grow attached somehow to this odd sensation. Though with how much his hands and feet ached, as he suspected they were in the middle of growing and stretching, attaining wolf-like attributes...he doubted he'd like it that much.
10:35. He was down in the basement. His girlfriend was asleep upstairs, and he hoped she did not hear anything downstairs or develop any need for water or some sudden drive to check out the cellar. Stumbling about, the young werewolf blinked and found himself taking one step after another down the cellar stairwell. It was all he could do to keep himself from bursting out of his clothes, and even then he could feel an all too telltale itch and the sense of his clothes getting too tight.
A low growl emitted from his mouth, and Jack finally got down into the cellar. His uneasy hands nevertheless managed despite himself to get the door closed and locked. He started hastily discarding his clothes after he was sure his route back up into the house was blocked enough. He doubted a bestial werewolf could manage that winding stairwell or the door beyond it even if somehow he broke down this heavy door. Once Jack was naked he found himself looking around - and then a surrender a little too soon.
He spotted the thin shaft of light - moonlight - coming down from somewhere deeper in the cellar. Could it be!? No...no! A cellar door leading out - outside into the world! Who knew what---
Jack could hold it back no longer, and his back fully cracked, and the werewolf's savage consciousness began to subsume his own human mind. He let out a long growl as the fur outgrew the hair, filling in across his body as his muzzle grew out. His body becoming larger, stronger, more suited for hunting, running through the darkest forest realms and slaying hapless prey. Jack's hands last task before they turned to claws was to wrap around his errant masculine organ, teasing a long howl out of his throat as he pressed against the ground. His manhood distorting into a sheathed wolfhood with one final piston and shot, his legs shifting as he got back up.
The wolf needed to run, to hunt, to escape this dark and cramped cage of an underworld and all its various ghosts and cackling goblins in the far corners! It ran for that errant beam of moonlight, the merest hint of its skybound love, and one strike with strong lupine claw rent the cellar door leading out from its hinges. The cellar door lead out into a more forested area, woods bordering long desert landscapes and the toxic cityscape the werewolf despised back in the distance.
Hunt! The werewolf ran into the forested area, seeking some sort of prey that could satiate the wicked appetite built up in the course of its transformation from Jack Romulus. First it found itself a strong, tall buck deer, brown and powerfully made, horns that presented a danger to the werewolf - and meat that would suit its needs. Sweeping around and striking from behind the horns, the werewolf lopped through tissue muscle and bone and severed the neck.
It drank of the death of the buck and sank its teeth into the noble creature's hide, eating fast and knowing the smell of the kill would soon drive more of its lupine brothers from the corners of the forest to feast here. It intended to give them little or nothing - such was the way of the wood and its creatures. The werewolf filled its belly on everything it could manage to eat from this buck, and then went on its way. Satiated, a bit, but not nearly enough.
Then it saw one of the hated humans from that smelly, disgusting city of "Vegas"! A human whose scent registered on some level with the buried, dead consciousness of Jack Romulus. A smell that triggered memories of disgust, of violation, of harm and exploitation. And even the werewolf felt rage at what it gathered from this shared emotional resonance. For the human it looked at was the human Louis Clyve. Who had one of those metal vehicles nearby him, and another human following shortly behind him. Smaller, weaker, unfit to be prey, and obviously harmed somehow.
Something in this image made the werewolf's rage amplify even further.
It stalked its prey, listening in to the hateful conversations that underwent beneath its perch among the trees. It expertly wielded its weight above there, to make the most of its initial lunge when the chance presented itself;
"I don't think this is legit. Taking me out into the fucking woods like this. I'm done here---"
"You're going nowhere!" That was Louis Clyve no doubt! No mistaking the sneer, the overconfident grimace, the smarmy self aggrandizement. "You want to be a model in this town, you gotta service Louis Clyve. I'm the biggest thing in the business around here. So it makes sense, don't it? Wanna work with me, you gotta work my dick." The hateful man was stocky, overweight, shaved bald and had a grin like a ghoul. He wore multiple layers of clothes, and a bundle at his hip told the story of a threat of force if the threat of a blackball did not work.
"No, that doesn't make any sense at all. You're...I don't believe you."
"Don't make me turn this a lot less pleasant kid. You're a pretty little gay boy, and I happen to know it IS normal for older gay men to set up---to set up bear and cub relationships." The werewolf did not understand a whit of what the hated Louis Clyve was saying, but the buried Jack Romulus knew all of the man's vile tricks and stereotype-based manipulations. All engineered to force young men into unbalanced and exploitative relationships with him.
"No way man. I'm done. I have way better boyfriend standards than you."
"You little fucker! You get down and give me that ass or else I'll put a bullet in it instead---!" And that moment, when Louis Clyve turned and drew his gun on his prospective new employee, the werewolf pounced! It sank teeth deep into Clyve's shoulder, dragging him to the ground and throwing the gun off into the underbrush. The man screamed, and the Werewolf took joy in that scream. And deep down, Jack Romulus grinned in his deep sleep.
Clyve struggled and begged for his life, not knowing if this was some sort of man assaulting him or some sort of foul beast trying to kill him. The young model ran for his life out of the forest. Leaving Clyve to his fate.
Slicked with blood and eviscerated by the teeth of the werewolf, Clyve managed to get away and made a mad dash to his car. His arm trailing behind him and he let out another scream as the werewolf snagged him again, taking his already injured arm in one bite and death rolling with it, snarling and ripping - tearing flesh and underlying tendons! The man screamed oh did he scream, but nobody was around to hear him or to care.
It prevented struggle by clawing Clyve's face, slicing his features and deforming him going forward. It would take many stitches and visits to a plastic surgeon to reconstruct any vestige of what had once been the face of Louis Clyve. Not that it was anything worth preserving whatsoever.
Eventually the arm gave, and Louis stumbled forward, barely conscious, barely keeping hold to his awareness. His whole left arm had been gnashed and torn off at the middle of the bicep, dripping with blood and bone marrow from shattered bone. The werewolf for its part prioritized eating above the vengeance it unknowingly bequeathed in some measure to Jack Romulus. For as it ate that arm, Louis Clyve managed to get to his car.
The werewolf stood there, watched the desperate, horribly wounded man drive off into the night, swerving recklessly and without care. Seeking hospital and assistance. Thankfully there was one not so far away, and what a story Louis Clyve would share with the nurses - provided his eviscerated lips could form sentences correctly, or that his new, gnawing madness would allow him to form the words in those sentences!
For what the slimy Louis Clyve had seen that night was the Werewolf of Vegas.
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By the time the morning came, on some level the Werewolf knew it needed to return somewhere safe, some sort of deep den where it could sleep before its next nightly excursion. The growing influence of Jack Romulus guided it to the cellar, doors still busted open, and the creature dragged itself inside. The change would be upon it soon in the opposite direction.
For now, the Werewolf vanished and Jack Romulus walked the Earth again. Fur retreated inside of flesh, muzzle formed back into the human visage, muscles reformed back into humanoid configurations, the tail retracted, claws became hands and feet - eyes returned to slate grey. And yet, the unibrow, chest hair, pronounced spine and other cues that remained of the werewolf showed on Jack Romulus. The young man groaned as if waking up from some long sleep.
He felt his face, remembering the hot pleasure / agony of the transformation, and detected the remaining stains of blood on his face. "Well, the Werewolf got busy..." He moaned to himself and looked around. Clothes were exactly where he left them. Jack quickly got dressed and then started to head back up into the house. First things first he checked on his girlfriend. She was always his first priority when dealing with this.
She was still asleep, thank God.
It seemed no matter what happened last night, the distance between her room and the cellar room meant she had no inkling of what was going on with him. Jack smiled bitterly, and stretched as he headed down toward the TV room to check the news. See what happened since yesterday.
Jack crossed his arms and grinned a little as he took in the first bit of news; *Modeling Coach Louis J. Clyve was brutally injured last night in what was apparently an attack by a massive bear or wolf. "It swooped down upon me and tore my fxking arm off!" Clyve said of the creature. The wolf was apparently somehow standing at some points and running on something like all fours at others. Were I a superstitious man, Dana, I would've said there's a werewolf on the loose! Though Clyve was able to survive, the extent of his injuries would guarantee he would be staying in the hospital.*
The young werewolf hated - hated - Louis Clyve for all the man forced him to do in the process of "giving him promotion" and "getting him in" to the modeling gig. Jack did not feel in the least bit bad about harming that living slimeball. But the fact was this proved the werewolf was dangerous to humans, and that Jack might need something more secure for dealing with the creature. The thought of any of Louis Clyve being the werewolf's meal was also rather gross - he'd rather not have any portion of that man inside him at all.
Jack then waited and gulped when he saw the next news item.
Apparently a couple had been brutally attacked and slain last night while the two were out at the local Make Out Point by emaciated, ghoulish men who one eye witness - another couple - described as moving with a zombie like gait. The chief suspect was apparently "Gangs on PCP / Homeless on PCP". Jack's eyes narrowed and he went to get some chicken and eggs to eat while he contemplated.
He was going to need to find out what was going on with those zombies sooner rather than later. He didn't want to have that happen to any more young couples. Let alone who else was in danger from the zombies. And maybe there was something he could do. Jack sniffed the air and nodded. His lupine sense of smell could prove useful in trying to track down whoever was responsible for the deaths...