Thanks for all the great input! I will definitely try to make the submissions longer in the future! Feel free to e-mail me with ideas at any time:) – Grimm
Ch. 6: My Van Helsing
I collapsed on the couch, trembling in shock. My mother, my sweet, beautiful, conservative mother had bared herself to me without a second thought. What was even worse is that I knew, subconsciously, that I had enjoyed it. The mental picture of her perfect and enormous breasts still burned in my brain.
I savagely shook my head, trying to knock the image from my head. I should not think that about her, my own mother, I don't care what changes her body had seemed to go through. No matter how flagrant or comfortable she seemed to be about it. And it was all the doing of that damn Bickers woman!
Fury raged within me. No longer hot and bothered by the strange experience I had just had, I was instead filled with an insensible, all consuming rage. SHE did this to my mom! Why! Why! We had never done anything to her, why put us through this hell? Why try to make my mom like her. She was so sweet and kind. Well, she wouldn't get away with it. I wouldn't stand for her to transform my mom into some sort of Nymphet. I would go over to that house of damnable perversion, and face her. And make her change my mother back.
I stormed out of the house, directing my steps in the Bicker's direction - still trying keep the vision of those erect, suckable brown nipples, and my mother's laughter out of my burning brain. * * * * *
I was about to turn into the Bicker's driveway when I felt a heavy hand touch my shoulder. A man's voice filled my ears.
"Don't be in such a hurry to dance with the devil, son."
I turned and found myself looking at an elderly gentleman, chalk white hair, thick bifocles, and a long white moustache gave him the appearance of a man well into his 70's. He was short and withered too. But his presence seemed to exude a strength, an intense power, that ill befitted his tiny frame.
"What? What are you talking about?" The old man chuckled deep in his throat.
" I saw where you were heading...and I wouldn't advise it. Though, I am sure that you have already experience something of that bitch's power. I still would not tempt fate again by walking into the lion's mouth." He seemed to know entirely too much about my nervous deflowerment. Who the hell was he?
"Who the hell are you?"
"Watch the mouth, son. I may be old, but I can still whip your young ass any day of the week. I am Dr. Bela, that's all you need know. And I am here to save you from becoming like the rest of this town."
"Like the rest of the town?"
"Don't pretend innocence. I've been watching you and your family since you moved in. I knew it was only a matter of time, a short matter of time, before Mrs. Bickers tried to include you and your family in her kennel."
I know my face turned pale, showing him that I knew as much as he thought I did.
"Yes, my boy, the fears you have been having are more than justified. Now, let's not stand out here any longer. We may be seen...by her. Let us find a more convenient place to chat. You have much to learn about this little corner of Hell."
* * * * * *
We went to the Church - old, whitewashed, and empty. Dust and an ancient musty smell drifty throughout. I wondered if people even still used it. All the chairs seemed worn and in disrepair. The carpet lay frazzled by time. The only light poured dimly through the stained glass of three enormous and gothic windows. The doctor motioned for me to sit. The old pew screamed underneath my weight. Then he sat down next to me.
"The story of this town goes back hundreds of years, so that is where OUR story must begin. Have you ever heard of the Hugonots? French Protestants that were persecuted by their Catholic neighbors for sacrilege? Thousands were killed, many massacres soaked the soil of France in gore. So a small group of these brave Protestants made a great exodus, fraught with peril, to the New World and settled here. But unfortunately they brought something else with them."
He broke off his story and looked around a few times, still worried that somebody may be watching us. He bent closer to me and began to speak in somewhat lower tones.
"France, in those times, was not only plagued with civil strife but also with a plague of a more demonic nature, for at night, all the powers of evil held full sway and the Loupgarous made the forests and fields of France their own. Loup-garous: Werewolves. Human beings who take the shape of their inner beast. A disease, not unlike our own AIDS virus, that is transmitted through blood or body fluid exchange, that mutates the host DNA, bringing out all the most bestial and savage within the human form. Man has never been horribly far up on the evolutionary ladder from the beasts. This disease knocks him back down to that level. Not only mentally, but, in some perverse way, physically too. The victims change to a more animal version of themselves...some more fully animal than others. But change they do."
"So that's why Mrs. Bickers began to sprout hair and teeth and..."
"Yes, that's right. But do not jump too far ahead of me."
" Sorry."
"Forgiven. Now, one of these Hugonots, apparently, had the lycanthropic disease in his or her system. So, when they all moved to this isolated area, there was no way for the other poor isolated people to escape the clutches of the disease. All eventually were infected and all soon became more animal than human. And so the centuries pass...the town never loses the infection, and there are always just enough outsiders, like yourselves, who move in to keep the population from inbreeding too much. But all these outsiders are also infected, and become these creatures of the night like all the others."
