Gregor changed right in front of my eyes. The sounds and screams coming from him still reverberate around me if I think about it too much. It was horrifying and I found myself frozen as I stood there.
The only warning that I got before I changed as well was the feeling of my skin tightening. My limbs elongated and then became covered in fur. The sensation of my canines growing wasn’t nearly as painful as the feeling of my growing fingernails. It was agonizing.
It took me a moment, but I realized my screams turned to howls. I wished for death, but it never came. It still hasn’t and considering my increased healing abilities, I have my doubts it ever will.
When I was able to come back to myself, my senses were heightened and I could see everything clearly, but also muted in other ways. Being able to see as well as I did, considering it was midnight and dark, was jarring. My night vision helps me in my job, but I still resent the hell out of it.
I resent all of it.
I do go by Karloff’s place now and again because his cottage is in the woods, my woods, but I still can’t bring myself to look the man in the eye. He changed so many lives that night and I don’t know if I can ever forgive him.
I never had many friends because I preferred to be alone, which serves me well as a lone wolfman, but the change I went through has forced me to be even more reclusive. We might be a town full of monsters, but there are times when I can’t control my feral nature. The need to hunt, to chase, and to feel the blood pumping in an animal as I take it down sometimes drives me and my actions.
I’m afraid of myself.
It’s gotten worse in the last month or so and I have no explanation. It’s not like there’s a support group for people who have been turned into monsters on the internet. I’ve looked. It’s not there.
When I find nothing worth eating, I sigh and run my clawed fingers through my hair. It’s wild and unkempt. Just like me.
I hate the idea of going into town. I can hear so much and yet feel so disconnected from it all. If I accept the others as the monsters that they were turned into then I’ll have to accept myself. I’m not there and I doubt I ever will be.
It’s easier to stay away. It’s easier to retreat and have the woods as my only safe place.
I hop in my Jeep and drive into town, letting the wind flowing through the open parts of the vehicle remind me I’m still outside, still in nature, and not caged in. It’s one of my biggest fears—being trapped. The beast I’ve become, no matter how much I might try and suppress that side of my nature, would never survive such a thing.
I need the wind. The smell of the fall air. The sky above us.
When I’m at the point where the woods are becoming more town than forest, the scent of home floats to me and I slam on the brakes. I didn’t know what home smells like until right now. It’s blueberry muffins baking and fresh squeezed orange juice in a glass. It reminds me of mornings with my family and lazy days.
A growl comes out of the deepest part of my chest and the hair on my body stands on end. My muscles bulge, threatening to rip the shirt I have on and the thighs of my jeans. I find myself tilting my nose in the air and inhaling deeply, trying to get more of the scent. My mouth is watering, actually fucking watering.
I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a scent before. It calls me home and gives me hope, something I haven’t felt in the years since the fateful night I became a monster. It doesn’t make any damn sense.
I force myself to start driving, but now I’m following the scent, tracking it through the open cab of my Jeep, needing it more than I need my next breath of clean air. I know, without a doubt, I’ll never be able to exist without this scent in my life.
It’s comfort.
Home.
Forever.
What the fuck?
I clench my muscles and try to go a different direction, but I can’t. It’s like the feral part of me is driving my body right now, the part of me I never give into. The part of me I’ve tried to push away since my change, even though it never works.
I stop in front of a small house and take another deep breath. It’s coming from here.
There’s a car in the driveway, one on the older side, but solid looking. It’s not a car I recognize, but there’s been a lot of people moving in recently and I’m not in town enough to know who all the new people are or what they drive. I know it doesn’t belong to one of my fellow monsters. I would have smelled this before if it was a monster.
There isn’t any luggage in the car and the house already has a lived-in feel to it. The scent is too concentrated to be brand new. Part of me wants to climb out of my Jeep and stalk up to the door to find the origins of the scent, but another part of me wants to run deep into the forest and never come out.
Before I can decide, the door swings open revealing a woman.
One I’ve never seen before. The first thing I notice is her hair because with the pastel purple, pink, teal and blue, she almost looks like one of the monsters, a siren, but I know she’s not. She’s petit, at least to me and my 6’7” height. I wasn’t always this tall, but even at the 6’1” I was before the change, I’d tower over her. She has curves in all the right places and my cock goes rock hard as I look her over.
I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a woman. I was pretty sure there was something wrong with me, but now my cock is aching. What is going on?
As the woman approaches the car in the driveway, I’m hit with the blueberry muffin and orange sent again.