Not yet, thought John. Telling anyone was just too big a risk, and he wasn't going to take it unless he absolutely had to. So now he just had to make it from the car to his room without being seen...
He grabbed his stuff, eased out of the car, locked it as quietly as he could, and crept to the front door. Brian was home -- the lights were on and his car was parked on the street. He'd probably heard John pull up, but perhaps he wasn't paying attention? John crouched by the door, straining to hear what was going on. If Brian was in the living room, there was no way he could get past without being seen. Maybe he could distract him, or...
Wait. John could hear a crackling sound. He cocked his head and actually felt one of his ears twitch, which freaked him out for a moment. Sizzling. He sniffed at the keyhole. Yes, Brian was cooking something. He sniffed again. Some kind of sausage... OK, he had a chance. John could run in while Brian was busy in the kitchen, as long as he didn't turn around to look.
As quietly as he could, John unlatched the door, snuck a quick peek around the living room -- no Brian -- and stepped inside, pulling it shut behind him. He padded across to the stairs, finding it surprisingly natural to move quietly for all his size. Orcs must be born hunters. He felt oddly proud of himself.
The stairs were a different story. They creaked and groaned under him, and after a couple of steps he gave up and just ran, thumping up the rest three at a time.
"Hey, John, that you? Dinner in twenty?"
He muttered an acknowledgement, not trusting his voice, and kept running. Seconds later he was safely in his room, leaning against the closed door, panting with relief. He couldn't keep doing this. He dropped his pants and keys by the door, stumbled over to his bed, and sat down.
He had to figure this thing out. Why was this happening to him? The first time had been Saturday morning -- well, technically afternoon -- when he woke up. He'd gone to the bathroom, turned all the way into an orc, jerked off, then turned back. The Monday night, that wet dream -- he was pretty sure now that he'd turned into an orc and back again. He eyed his claws. He'd probably made those holes in the sheets, not the clothes dryer. And then this evening in the bowling alley he'd changed again while getting a blow-job from that guy. The connection was pretty clear: it was about sex -- except that first time. That didn't fit.
Something weird had happened on Friday night, he was sure. There were chunks of the evening he couldn't remember -- he must have been really hammered -- but he knew he'd been at that bowling alley until late. He didn't remember bowling, though. What had he been doing? Something in the bathroom? He found himself growling deeply in frustration. It was not a pleasant sound.
His stomach growled too. Abruptly, he became aware that he hadn't eaten since lunch. He'd burned a lot of energy this evening -- not to mention somehow building all this muscle -- and he was ravenous. The smell of tomato and sausage wasn't helping either. Brian had said twenty minutes -- it would be ready any moment now. His mind raced. If it the changes were driven by sex, then maybe he could turn himself back to normal by jerking off. His lips twitched into a smile. Any excuse, eh? Well, it couldn't make things much worse. There wasn't much time, though...