It's a Were World Ch. 03byAthena_e19©
Once more, Lucas woke to a very painful and throbbing headache. In fact, he was pretty certain that the headache covered every aspect of his body. Worse still, he couldn't remember how he ended up on the floor, naked, but for the shorts still twisting his feet together.
Confusion seemed to be the theme of the day. Sarah wouldn't return his phone calls, and from the reddened state of the skin on his cock, he was pretty certain things had gone well. In fact, her bra was still draped over some of the magazines on the coffee table. And from what he could tell, his mother and sister had never reappeared from wherever they had disappeared to.
Exhausted, he was determined to grab a few moments of sleep and then go out looking for them. He had managed to semi-clothe himself when he heard a knock on the door. Maybe its Sarah or my family, he thought quickly.
He stashed the bra under a couch cushion and hoped the room didn't smell too much like sex. Putting on his best grin he darted to the door and swung it open.
"Morni-," he managed as his mother's boss gave him a smirk and stepped into the house. Lucas remained in front of him, one hand on the door. Marcus stared expectantly up at him.
"Come to take the dogs," he chuckled as he stared at the pathetic looking pair that stared up from the floor of the entry.
"Fine," Lucas said, stepping back to allow him entry into the room. Marcus brushed by him and unlaced the two leashes. One of the dogs snapped at his leg, but was met with a very harsh kick. The dog whimpered quickly and shrunk away from the cruel treatment.
Lucas wanted to defend them but didn't want to risk his mother's job. Instead he stared at the man accusingly. "Anything else?" he quickly retorted.
"Actually, I might take them downstairs to put them through their paces and check their training," he muttered with a very demeaning tone in his voice.
Lucas shrugged, his headache returning. The dogs weren't his problem. "Fine. I'm going upstairs for a nap. Lock up on your way out."
As he turned towards the stairwell, he heard a pleading whimper from behind him. It almost stopped him, but the agony inside of his own head kept him selfishly focused on the bedroom above.
The idea of a nap or just laying in a darkened room was very appealing and it remained so for the first thirty minutes of his attempt. But the feeling of concern for the women in his life began to drive him nuts. Anxiety was an excellent cure for exhaustion but did little to remedy his headache. He decided he would go down and see if Marcus knew where his mother and sister were.
Still in the fateful athletic shorts, the young man carefully made his way down the stairs and to the living room. He paused once more by the pile of clothing and cell phones that were his sibling's and mother's. With a slight downward twist of the lips, he tiptoed down the stairs. Something inside him told him that he wanted to catch Marcus by surprise.
At the bottom of the narrow staircase the basement looked exactly as it always had. Marcus and the dogs seemed to have disappeared as surely as his mother and sister had. Knowing that people can't just disappear, he began to carefully inspect every nook and cranny of the cinder blocked room. Finally he discovered the where they had gone off to.
In the far back right corner a stack of carefully arranged cardboard boxes marked "Books" hid a three by three tunnel. Somewhere beyond that, a light glowed and strange sounds emerged.
His headache forgotten, Lucas dropped into a crouch and shuffled down the cool enclosure. Under feet he noticed coarse shed hair that matched those of the dogs upstairs. He wondered how long Marcus had been training the dogs there. But any thought or questions about Marcus disappeared when he reached the end of the tunnel.
At first his eyes had a problem adjusting to the bright light that spilled from the secret chamber. His ears, however, had no problem adjusting to the noise of the room.
That strange sound he had heard? It was an overtly sexual whimper- one of submission and surrender to desires. Mixed in with its steady rhythm were slaps and grunts and howls and the characteristic slurps of wet skin sliding through wet skin. Lucas recognized the voice before he understood the bizarre scene before him.
And it filled him with rage.
His sister was strapped over a saw horse, her arms and legs bound to each of the downward angling posts, with her ass thrust high in the air. Her hair was wild and her skin dirty and scratched. Some of the wounds trickled faint droplets of blood. If that sight had not been enough for Lucas, her partner would have sent him over the edge.
Atop her was a massive black wolf, abnormally muscular with huge jaws that were exposed as it panted its pounding rhythm. Its large forelegs were wrapped tightly at her waist as its shoulders and back hunched above the pale broken woman beneath it. A massive red shaft repeatedly drove in and out of his beautiful sister's sex, and he had a momentary flashback to his strange dream.
Just as his memory of his dream slipped through his psyche, an onrushing tidal wave of anger, hatred, lust, and revulsion slammed into him. The beast had returned.
The power of his emotions forced the change and for the first time in his life Lucas was fully aware of what was happening. That burning itch in his spinal cord quickly became an uncontrollable agony. His eyes watched in abstraction as the clenched fists of his hands bulged and ripped and bled as longer more powerful claws emerged. Hair sprouted quickly over the newly expanded and morphed surfaces. His forearms and legs and chest and face all screamed in unified agony as his 6'3" body suddenly expanded and grew. Gone was his humanity. In its place, crouched a seven foot tall monster.
Lucas was cognizant of all that happened but he did not register its implication or its meaning. Simply he accepted it and seized on the newfound power coursing through his veins.
A deep rumbling roar began in his chest as he struggled to get the larger body from the small entry. With anger his claws tore at the concrete beneath him, leaving long gouges where they dug.
Finally he was free, and his massive form hurtled across the room at the other wolf, fangs bared and claws exposed.
A challenging howl rang out of the black wolf as it abandoned its crouch atop Lucas' sister. Its long cock dripped with the fluids of her sex and stood in stark contrast to its black fur. The lycanthrope was more experienced then the young raging male, but it was not completely prepared for the strength, vigor, or hatred that the other relied upon.
Athena could only scream, "No, no!" Somewhere else in the room another whimpering, pleading cry could be heard from the only remaining dog.
Lucas could only hear the chugging steam engine in his head as he propelled himself into the beast that had ravaged his sister. His nostrils filled with the scent of sex, of sweat, of animal. It was a heady aroma that was nearly as intoxicating as the desire for blood.
His long brown and white fur covered arms swung out, claws bared. The black wolf blocked both furious swipes with its shorter, albeit bulkier frame. It seized on the opportunity to lunge forward, its own claws leading and its teeth snapping.
The younger werewolf barely managed to avoid a fatal bite to the jugular and was forced instead to admit the tearing daggers of the black wolf's nails into his shoulders. He howled in surprise in pain but his longer arms quickly encircled the black wolf's own shoulders and furiously dug into its neck.
The black wolf howled in pained surprise at the quick recovery and was forced to break its hold on Lucas' pelt. Lucas lunged forward once more, teeth snapping and eyes wild. This time he would taste blood and it would empower him. His head went into an intuitive shake when it realized that the forearm of the black wolf was stuck within its jaws. He could taste the flesh stripping away from bone and tearing apart beneath his vicious ripping motions.
The bulkier black wolf lashed out its paw, its nails slashing across Lucas' face to no avail. The young wolf knew it had an advantage and pressed it.
Crouching lower then his opponent, Lucas lunged forward, squatting the entire weight of the black wolf above his head and throwing. The body of his enemy did the rest. With a snap, Lucas' jaw tore clean through the bone of the forearm as it separated from the screaming blur that hammered into a wall.
Triumphantly, Lucas howled and dropped the severed limb to the floor, his muzzle awash with blood.
But his victory was short lived. The black wolf had lost an arm but was now more aware of the danger posed by the young start up. With a bloody stump pulled tight against its heaving chest, the ancient creature propelled itself off the wall.
Lucas was surprised to see the wolf move away from him, down the wall. He thought perhaps his enemy would flee. Instead the wolf's body rapidly shrunk and changed, until a badly injured Marcus emerged from the change.
"You fucking boy! You fucking boy! You tore my goddamn arm off! You'll fucking pay. You're mother and sister will both pay! And you'll watch. And when I'm done with them I'll eat you, one limb at a time. You fucker!" Marcus' ranted, his eyes wild and translucent as his change to human form struggled to take.
Lucas felt another triumphant growl tear through his chest and out his throat. But it was short lived.
Marcus reached to the floor and came up with a large silver plated handgun. Lucas had time to whirl and turn towards the crawlway he had emerged from, before the first of the shots rang out.
The older injured wolf may not have won the battle of the beasts, but he was a good shot. Four distinct slugs punched into Lucas' back and propelled him forward into the hole. Within his ribs and chest he could feel the sudden molten burn of lead as it left a quarter inch sized hole in its wake.
He crawled quickly on his knees, feeling another slug slam into his furred thigh, before he emerged from the other side into the basement. Panicked and thinking clearly for the first time from the pain, Lucas crouched away from the hole. As his mind settled and the blood lust abated, he took stock of himself. His mouth and head were covered in the blood of his enemy but his shoulder was badly clawed and he could feel a significant amount of pain and blood coming from his back.
It was this moment of clarity that would prove to be the saving grace for the young man who only now began to understand his family history and the mystery that surrounded the past week. His sharp canine ears heard Marcus' hate filled voice shouting into a cell phone.
"Her bastard son has shifted! The fucker tore my arm off. Get down here now! Fucking surround the place, and kill him. I don't care who sees! KILL HIM!" It was accompanied by a loud crack and a startled cry from his sister. He would have turned again to free them had her voice not yelled to him.
"Run you idiot, run!" Another loud crack silenced her, but he knew that staying would prove a fatal choice. Injured badly, he scrambled to his feet and pounced up the stairs. His large frame easily dropped into a crouch and lurched forward in a natural run on all fours. It was less graceful then most dogs but the form was recognizable and he quickly adapted to it. Already he could hear doors slamming and yells form outside as he reached the top of the stairway.
Startled, he turned and ran straight through the back door, his heavy skull and thick coat easily smashing through the glass without a scratch. He had a sudden realization of the sense of being hunted and he fled as far, as fast as he could. Into the trees behind his house he raced, his massive form smashing through the underbrush leaving a clear trail to be followed. But he was aware of the fact, and his instincts guided him to the wide stream and he plunged in. Half running, half leaping, he tore through the cool water and sped away from his house.
His injured body could only carry him so far. Torn and shot he would soon find fatigue and exhaustion overwhelming him. It would be two hours before he collapsed and the two feelings won the battle over his mind. Into a fitful and bleak dream world he would slip, cold water pouring over his matted fur, cleansing it of the blood that had marked him a monster.
Back at his home, he would not realize how precarious his life had become. He had upset a delicate balance and violated an unspoken rule. He had challenged the alpha male of his clan and would set in motion events that no one could have predicted. And his sister and mother had been left in the middle of it.
In the secret chamber beneath the basement, Athena and Lucas' mother remained bound. Athena had become a whipping post for the raging Marcus, and Lucas' mother, still trapped in her natural wolf form, had born several strikes from the pistol and his heel. Athena was unconscious, her naked body too broken to maintain waking.
Marcus paced the blood stained floor, his eyes rolling back and forth in his head as he clutched a towel to the bloody stump at his elbow.
"That fucker! He took my arm. Bit it right off! I fucking don't believe it," he screeched. His voice was hoarse with anger as he continued his rant. Three other large men stood in the room with him, each tense and cautious in the movements. But a fourth man leaned against the wall nonchalantly, watching as his leader whined like a freshly whipped pup.
His mouth was set in a sly smile.
"Is there something funny, Damon," Marcus finally shrieked when he saw the look. All the eyes in the room pivoted to see what angered the alpha male. Lazily, Damon pushed himself off the wall and dropped his hands to the large pockets at the waist of his coat.
"Yes, Marcus. There is. Look at you. You're beaten and broken at the hands of a yearling. You lost your arm because you were too intent on fucking your harem and didn't pay enough attention to your power. You're not worthy of leading the pack," spat the usurper.
Marcus' eyes went wide in rage and surprise. "You challenging me, Damon?! I made you, I trained you. Don't think that I can't kill you one handed or not!"
Damon spit on the floor at his words. Then he just smirked once more. "You're finished."
"Adrian, Torl, take care of this fucker," Marcus commanded. But his voice wilted just enough to tell the other two that perhaps his power was no longer complete and they remained still. Damon reached to the floor and picked up the large silver gun that Marcus had used on Lucas. He examined it playfully and then raised it, its sights set on Marcus.
"Using a gun to do your dirty work. Its so, so human," he muttered with disgust. "It'll be fitting that you die by it." Before he pulled the trigger, however, he spun the gun on the fifth man in the room, a lad of only eighteen. The gun exploded once and the boy died with the a look of surprised terror on his face.
"My son," Marcus whimpered. "My son," he repeated.
He was allowed a moment to suffer the agony of his loss before the gun fired again and his head splattered on the wall behind him.
Damon smirked down at the two victims before pacing to the beaten body of Lucas' sister. He appreciatively ran a hand around her backside and hips. "Adrian. Spread the word. I'm in charge now. Anyone wants to question it, they end up like him. Torl, take these two bitches to the club. They've had free reign out here long enough. But don't put them on the floor yet. Chain them in my office." His hand left Athena's thigh and he paced over to the snarling wolf crouched in a corner on its chain.
He knelt in front of it, his characteristic smirk growing. "Hello Mother. We have so much to discuss." Then he surrendered to a fit of psychotic laughter, one that had been welling up inside of him ever since had received the phone call from Marcus. Things were going his way. And he was going to make sure they stayed that way.
As things completely foreign to him were set in motion, Lucas lay asleep in the stream. His body slowly shifted back to its normal shape. Hair disappeared or receded, his natural muscular and skeletal structures reemerged. Gradually each sign of his changing would falter and fade until only the three deep gouges on his shoulder and the five nasty wounds on his back and thigh were signs of any of the last day's experiences being a reality.
The healing power of his lycanthrope body would kick in as he rested, slowly cutting off open wounds, clotting blood, and fighting infection. Within the next twenty four hours, the unconscious young man would be left with only scars, and the uncomfortable sense that somewhere inside him he carried a dollar's worth of lead.
But his concern and love for his family was so great that he would wake thinking only of them. Cold, wet, and very, very sore, he could think of only them. He regretted leaving, even though his mind told him that to have stayed would have meant certain death from one source or another. And living to fight another day was more valuable to his mother and sister then was dying a fool and a martyr.
He tried to force himself to stay away from the home a while longer, but he could not resist the temptation. He didn't know how long he had been knocked out, but when night finally fell, he made his way down the creek to the edge of his property. What he found, terrified him.
All around his home, yellow caution tape blazed in the darkness. The slight rustle of the wind over its plastic skin was more perturbing then any sound he had heard before. Where there had been a familiar house and a safe haven from the rest of the world's problems, lay a pile of rubble and ash. Some portions of it still smoldered from the fire that had devastated it. All of his belongings and memories and experiences were in that house. Lucas felt like he had lost everything. And he had no idea where his family was.
It was here that he would experience the third shift of his life. His soul wanted to shrink into the smallest space possible, and that deep seeded emotional need would set in motion a shift into his wolf stage. Rather then the hulking half man, half wolf he had been earlier, he became a full bodied, beautiful canine of slightly larger then average height.
Lucas did not understand or care what the reasoning was for the shift, but he felt somehow more prepared for what he saw as an animal. The thick pads of his feet carried him under the tape, across the lawn, and into the ruins of his old home. Only the brick fireplace stood standing, and even the upper portion of that had collapsed. Whatever had happened was complete in its destruction.
The young wolf was left alone, unsure of his place in the world or of the fate of his family. He would spend the night roaming through the house, searching for any sign of hope or of his more restful past.
The next morning, the sound of voices from the front of the house beckoned him. Carefully, he crept around the edge of the fireplace and down the edge of the foundation to a better vantage point. Out front, a single police officer stood guard. Beside him a group of high school girls that he recognized wept, placing flowers and teddy bears at a makeshift memorial. At their center stood Sarah.
That gorgeous body was now huddled beneath a sweatshirt, sobs racking her small frame. He was too afraid to come closer, to shift and to call out to her. He had no idea what had been said or what had been done. Showing up naked would raise some questions. But he needed a friend and confidant, and Sarah was it.
He rolled a bit in the soot, and crept from his hiding place. Immediately her eyes lit up and she darted underneath the tape line towards him.