Transformation Read online

  She could talk to him anytime she wanted. All she had to do was pick up the phone and dial.

  Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath, thinking about him, his voice, his hands. Thinking about how it would feel to have the length of his hard body pressed against hers, his hard cock buried inside her.

  She wasn’t accustomed to having such powerful desires, especially for someone she’d just met. Maggie was twenty-four, but she’d only had a few boyfriends over the years, and only one of them was what she’d call “serious.” But he’d left her over a year ago, and losing him had been hard, hard enough that even now, she didn’t feel inclined to start dating again anytime soon. She didn’t want to risk losing someone else.

  Maybe it was just all those repressed hormones catching up with her? Yes. That had to be it.

  The teakettle began to whistle. She poured herself a cup, added a few cubes of sugar and a teabag. The sharp, sweet smell of peppermint filled the air. She sat at the kitchen table and sipped her tea, staring into space.

  Later that evening, as she was brushing her teeth, she caught a glimpse of her eyes in the bathroom mirror, and froze.

  Normally, her eyes were a deep, chocolate brown. Now, they were as bright as copper, with flecks of gold glinting within, and tilted upward slightly at the corners. They were still her eyes, wide and startled, with the same thick, dark lashes, and yet it was as if some other creature were peering out through them: Something primal, something which, until now, had been sleeping deep within her.

  * * * *

  That night, she dreamed again of running through forests, fresh, damp earth beneath her paws, the smell of fresh, growing things in her nose. Her sleek body cut through the forest like a blade, limbs moving with an easy fluidity that even the greatest athletes couldn’t equal. She was a cougar, built for silence, stealth, speed.

  She stopped, head raised, ears twitching. Someone was approaching.

  The shadows divided like curtains, and another cougar stepped through, eyes a luminous green-gold. He was larger than her, and darker, all sleek, solid muscle beneath his short, reddish-bronze fur. He moved toward her, grace and power in every step. His eyes held hers in an iron grip.

  And then suddenly, it was no longer a cat, but a man. Justin. She looked down at her body and saw that she, like he, was human again. Human, and very naked. She looked up to see him standing close to her, so close that she could hear the heavy beating of his heart. His hands gripped her waist tightly, pulling her against him ... then pushed her to the ground, one hand on the small of her back, guiding her to her hands and knees. She felt his teeth on the back of her neck, gathering the small bit of loose skin there and holding it tight, anchoring her head in place as his body descended on hers. He mounted her like a cat, from behind. She felt the thick length of his cock pressing into her wetness. She gasped, feeling a slight twinge of pain as her pussy stretched too wide, too fast, to accommodate his girth ... but somehow, there was pleasure even in that sensation. He began to move, first slowly, his cock sliding back and forth within her, stimulating her slick, excited flesh, then faster, until he was pumping in and out of her body, his cock seeming to push a little deeper into her with each thrust. Dimly, she was aware of herself moaning, pushing backwards against him. Her head was lowered, her cheek pressed against the ground, her hands curled into tight fists as he fucked her, so hard and deep that the aching pleasure was almost unbearable. She could feel herself nearing orgasm, the sweet, sharp ache building up inside her.

  Then the dream dissolved as a shrill beep filled her ears.

  Maggie awoke, her eyes snapping open. Her alarm clock continued to beep, the green, digital numbers blinking on and off. She quickly hit the snooze button and groaned softly. She was damp with sweat, her thighs pressed tightly together.

  The dream was still vivid and real in her mind. She could still smell the fresh, cool forest air, the earth and trees. She could still feel the heat of Justin’s hard flesh buried inside her.

  She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head, but it was useless. She needed release.

  One hand drifted down to touch her wet, aroused pussy. A light shiver went through her.

  She didn’t often touch herself. Something--the ghost of her strict religious upbringing, maybe--left the faint bitterness of guilt when she dared to indulge her own desires. But now, there was no hesitation. She had to come, or she’d explode. Maggie slipped a finger inside herself and began to frantically work it in and out, panting softly as she imagined Justin’s long, hard cock inside her. Slick walls of flesh clenched momentarily tighter as she climaxed.

  She went limp, breathing hard, sweat trickling down her neck and sides.

  She barely knew Justin. Yet he invaded her thoughts and dreams. She burned for him in a way that went beyond a mere infatuation. She kept thinking about his eyes, his large, warm hands, the way they had felt on her skin. She kept hearing his voice, that deep voice that seemed to resonate in the hollows of her bones. Somehow, he had gotten inside her, and now he haunted her every moment. What was it about him?

  No time to think about it now. She had to get to work.

  Maggie showered, dressed, and had a bowl of cereal, but the crunchy flakes seemed unbearably bland. What she really wanted, she thought, was a nice, big, juicy hamburger. She didn’t even need the bun, just the meat, still tender and pink in the middle, maybe even a little red ... bleeding onto the plate.

  She realized that she was salivating just thinking about it. But she forced herself to finish the cereal, chewing mechanically, before brushing her teeth and leaving the apartment.

  * * * *

  “You seem different.”

  Maggie looked up, knife and fork in hand. She’d been cutting a tender piece from the center of her rare steak. “How?”

  “I don’t know. Just different.” Stacy sat across from her in the small restaurant, squinting as she studied Maggie’s face. “Are you wearing contact lenses?”

  “Yes,” said Maggie. It was how she’d been explaining her change in eye-color to everyone. “I’ve had contact lenses for awhile,” she lied. “I just recently decided to go with some colored ones.”

  “Kind of a weird color,” said Stacy.

  Maggie shrugged. “I like it.”

  Stacy stared down at her plate of noodles and mixed vegetables, poking at a green pepper with her fork. “You seem older,” she said suddenly. “That’s what’s different. You seem a lot older than you did a few weeks ago.”

  A few weeks. Had it really been that long since the cougar attack? A chill crept up Maggie’s spine. The next full moon was approaching. She’d promised Justin she would return, that she wouldn’t try to endure it alone. The thought of speaking to him again, seeing him again, made her heartbeat quicken with a giddy mix of excitement and nervousness.

  “What happened to you?” asked Stacy.

  “I suppose I just grew up a little,” said Maggie. She speared a piece of steak and slid it into her mouth.

  “You never used to eat red meat before, either,” said Stacy. “You always said it made you sick, remember?”

  “It did,” said Maggie. “I’ve just developed a taste for it. It happens.”

  “I guess,” said Stacy.

  They ate their meals in silence.

  Maggie realized that the hairs on her neck were standing up. She could feel eyes on her back. She looked over her shoulder, and her gaze was drawn to a short, balding, middle-aged man sitting at the bar, hunched over a plate of nachos, chewing noisily. He wore an oversized, tattered brown coat. He wasn’t paying any attention to her. Why did she have the sense that he’d been looking at her a moment ago?

  Maggie forced herself to look away. She was imagining things again. That was all. Her senses had become so hypersensitive that she’d become almost too aware of her surroundings.

  The check arrived, and she split it with Stacy. As she was leaving the restaurant, someone bumped into her.

&nb
sp; “’Scuse me,” mumbled a voice.

  Maggie looked up. It was the middle-aged man. He hurried past her, but for a moment, he looked straight into her eyes, and she saw a strange flash of recognition on his face. Then he quickly lowered his head and hurried out the door.

  Maggie rubbed her arms, shivering.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Stacy.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  Chapter Six

  The Hunter watched the girl walk down the street.

  She was one of them, all right. He had been watching her for the past few days, and had become increasingly certain. It was in every step she took, every movement, the way she seemed to glide, rather than walk. And those eyes. He had gotten a clear look at them, and he was certain they weren’t human eyes. The irises were bright and metallic, with flecks that shone like gold in the sun.

  She was one of the monsters.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, following at a distance. Over time, he had become an expert at following people without looking conspicuous. He appeared casual, unhurried, pausing every so often to look around, as if he were enjoying the day. Just a guy going about his business. But he never let her out of his sight.

  He licked his lips. He had to be patient, had to wait for his opportunity.

  The girl stopped suddenly, head raised, fingers clutching the strap of her small, black purse.

  The Hunter immediately turned and pretended to be interested in a display in a store window. In his pockets, his hands curled into tight fists, the palms slick with sweat. When he glanced up, the girl had resumed walking.

  He followed.

  They came to a quiet neighborhood. The brick apartment buildings looked clean and well-maintained, and were surrounded by tidy, green lawns and trees. He watched as she went into one of the buildings.

  He grinned widely. His armpits were damp with sweat, and he was trembling, not with fear, but with excitement.

  He knew where she lived, and what time she left for work and came home. Now all he had to do was wait for the proper time.

  * * * *

  Justin grunted softly as he lifted another box onto the back of the delivery truck. He’d been loading boxes all day, and his muscles burned dully with exertion. It was one of many odd jobs he’d taken in the past few years. Since he’d become a lycanthrope, he’d been moving from place to place, staying inconspicuous, returning to the cabin every month for his change. It was in the best interest of people like him to stay invisible to the eyes of society.

  Some lycanthropes--those who could control their transformations, anyway--chose to live in their animal shape, becoming human only occasionally, if ever. Justin understood and respected their choice, but it was a life he could never embrace. There was still too much of his human self he was unwilling to let go of.

  He wiped his brow and stared at the sky, thinking suddenly about Maggie, wondering if she was all right. He had the oddest sense that she was in trouble, that she needed him. Probably just his imagination, but his hunches had been right enough in the past that he wasn’t inclined to dismiss them. He supposed it was a moot point, though. He had no way of contacting her.

  Justin’s senses were suddenly alert and sharp. He sensed someone near. Slowly, he turned.

  The lot was mostly empty, save for a few empty beer cans and a dumpster. He saw no one. Sniffing the air, he smelled fur. “I know you’re there,” he said. “Come out where I can see you.”

  A lean, tawny coyote stepped out from behind the dumpster. Justin knew immediately that it wasn’t an ordinary coyote. Its golden eyes looked directly into his, alert and intelligent.

  Beware, it said.

  It wasn’t telepathy, exactly. Justin didn’t hear the words in his head, like a voice on a radio. But nevertheless, lycanthropes had a way of communicating that went beyond words. He seemed to feel the message in his stomach, in the marrow of his bones. He saw it in the tension of the coyote’s body, the way its ears leaned backwards. The meaning was as clear as if it had been written in the air with neon letters.

  Beware of what? Justin asked, in that same wordless way.

  The Hunter has returned, replied the coyote. Then he turned and slunk away, melting into the shadows behind the dumpster.

  A chill climbed Justin’s spine.

  The Hunter was a legend among lycanthropes. He was, it was said, a human man who’d hunted down and killed dozens of were-creatures, often torturing them first. He usually targeted new, young lycanthropes, because they were the most vulnerable, but he’d also killed several old and powerful werewolves, and even a were-grizzly. No one understood how he did it. A lone human shouldn’t have been a match for a strong lycanthrope, but the rumors were too persistent for Justin to dismiss them. And by all accounts, he was a sadistic maniac with a thirst for blood.

  That settled it. Somehow, he had to find Maggie, to warn her, if nothing else.

  If the Hunter was in the area, she could very well be his next target.

  * * * *

  After another long day at work, Maggie was exhausted ... and irritated.

  It was after dark by the time she arrived in the parking lot outside her apartment building. She’d been asked to stay later at work. One hour had turned into two, and then three, and afterwards it had occurred to her that there was almost no food in the apartment, so she’d had to run to the grocery store. It was times like this that really made her wish she owned a car, but in the city, the expense simply wasn’t worth it.

  She muffled a yawn against one hand, carrying her shopping bag in the other as she walked across the parking lot, eager to get to her room, have some dinner, and sink into a hot bath before going to bed.

  The back of her neck tingled.

  Maggie froze and looked up. She spotted a man walking toward her, holding a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. He was in a uniform of some sort, a blue shirt with a nametag and matching slacks. He appeared to be in his early forties, his brown hair thinning, his face round and unremarkable. He looked perfectly ordinary, and yet the back of her neck continued to tingle a warning. Something about him was familiar, though she couldn’t place where she’d seen him before. “Excuse me, miss,” he said. “Do you live here?”

  “Yes,” she said, her shoulders tensing. “Why?”

  He smiled, showing too many teeth. “I was wondering if you had time to answer a few questions for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  He kept walking toward her. “It’ll only take a moment.” He held the pen out, as if to hand it to her, but then quickly pressed the tip against her arm and pushed the button on top. Maggie gasped as she felt the prick of a needle. The shopping bag slipped from her hand and hit the pavement. A few oranges rolled away. Her vision began to fade, and her muscles suddenly felt like overcooked noodles, unable to support her. She crumpled to the pavement.

  The man’s arm slipped around her waist, and he half-carried, half-dragged her toward a white van nearby. He shoved her into the backseat.

  Maggie tried to scream, but only a faint whimper escaped her throat. Her head spun. She was being abducted, right here, in front of her own apartment building. Why didn’t anyone see? Why didn’t anyone stop him?

  The man threw a tarp over her, then slammed the door. She heard the car starting up. Her heart raced. Surely, someone would call the police. Surely....

  She struggled to hold onto consciousness, but as the car began to back up, she felt herself slipping away. Blackness engulfed her.

  * * * *

  Justin returned to his apartment, a small, sparsely furnished place with bare white walls. He had never bothered to make it his own. He knew he wouldn’t be here very long. His experiences had taught him how dangerous it could be for a creature like him--a creature with no place in society--to get attached to anything or anyone in the human world.

  He opened the refrigerator. Inside, pounds of raw hamburger sat, wrapped in white butcher’s paper an
d stained red with the juices. He didn’t care much for meat that had been processed and ground to a pulp--he liked it a bit fresher--but oftentimes, this was the best he could get. Now, though, he found he wasn’t hungry. Anxiety tightened his stomach.

  Throughout the day, ever since the visit from the were-coyote, the tickle in the back of his mind had been growing. Maggie was in danger. He was sure of it.

  He closed the refrigerator and paced, thinking.

  There was a bond between were-creatures, which allowed them to sense each other’s presence and to communicate without words. He’d told Maggie he didn’t have ESP, but maybe that hadn’t been entirely true. He didn’t think of it that way--in truth, he didn’t know what to call it or how to think of it--but it certainly went beyond animal instinct. It usually only worked over short distances, but maybe, if he concentrated....

  He closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind. He thought about Maggie’s eyes, her voice. He thought about the softness and scent of her skin, the way it felt beneath his palms. Every detail he could remember, he added to his mental sense of her, focusing in. At first, there was only blackness. Then a flicker of something, dim and distant. He listened carefully with his internal senses. There. He felt her.

  It slipped away.

  He clenched his fist in frustration. For a moment, he’d almost had it. But he had been shut out.

  He had to keep trying.

  A ripple of restless energy ran through him, and his body shuddered. The beast was close to the surface, bubbling with a wild energy, and its intentions were clear. It wanted to find and protect Maggie, even if it meant killing whoever tried to harm her. He ran his tongue over his teeth. They felt long and sharp.

  He couldn’t stay here. Not when the bloodlust was running so hot and strong through his blood. He needed to get to the forest. Maybe there, his inner senses would be clearer. Better reception. At another time, the thought might have made him smile, but there was nothing humorous about the way he felt now. He wanted to eliminate the threat. He wanted to kill.