The Full Moon Party

It was late in the afternoon when the ancient bus dropped the three girls at the market place. They loaded up with supplies for the party. Lots of bottled water. A couple of bottles of the strong local rum, to get them in the mood. Some fruit.

All three were 18 years old, on their gap year before starting college. Mel was a tall blond, whose slender waist made her breasts look even bigger than they were. Her skin, after three months of sunbathing, was a deep brown. She had decided that the most important thing about her gap year was to enjoy herself. She had a boyfriend in England, but she was sure that he had no plans to stay celibate for the year. Nor did she.

Her friend Angie was a tall black girl. Her strict, church-going parents had prevented her from seeing boys without a chaperone and she had been making up for lost time since leaving England. Her long legs and large breasts made sure that she had no lack of opportunity. Shelagh was a slim redhead with green eyes and a fair skin. She had stayed out of the sun as much as she could, hard though that was in the company of sun-lover Mel. She was the romantic of the party, much more inhibited than either Mel or Angie.

After collecting their supplies, they walked through the jungle to the beach. It was an easy walk, lasting about an hour, along a clearly marked path. It was the first time that any of them had been to one of the famous full moon parties, and they chattered and giggled excitedly as they walked.

As they passed through the edge of the jungle, the beautiful white sand beach spread out before them. It was already thronged with hundreds of young people. Rum, beer and palm wine were already passing from hand to hand and the sweet smell of marijuana was in the air. Food stalls lined the edge of the beach and a generator had been hooked up to a sound system, although the music had not started.

The girls were wearing swimsuits under their outer clothes, and Mel and Angie stripped off and ran for the water. Mel wore a stunning black bikini, Angie a tight-fitting red swimsuit. They played together in the surf for a few minutes before a group of Scandinavian boys joined them.

Mel was immediately attracted to Ulf. He was tall and rangy, with a short beard around his chin. He was a good swimmer and they swam towards the middle of the bay, away from the others. He pointed to a raft moored in deep water and they raced towards it. Ulf won by a yard and, when Mel reached the raft, surprised her by planting a quick kiss on her lips.

Then he looked at the horizon. "Almost sunset!" he exclaimed, "We must get back to the beach". They swam back together and, hand-in-hand, walked up the sand to watch the best sunset Mel could remember. The bonfires were lit and the sound system started up as the last, red sliver of the sun sank into the sea.

As always happens in the tropics, darkness fell very quickly. The moon was not due to rise for three hours and, with no city lights and only the feeble light of the bonfires, the stars stretched like a jewelled carpet across the sky. Mel thought they were the most wonderful sight she had ever seen.

The tropical night was warm, soft and velvety and Mel did not bother to change out of her bikini. Ulf grabbed a shirt as Mel took him to meet Angie and Shelagh. Then Mel and Ulf danced and drank for a couple of hours. She noticed couples slipping away into the jungle and she could see that Ulf had also spotted them. Picking up a blanket, Ulf took her by the hand and they started to walk away from the sea.

Once they got through the screen of plants at the edge of the beach, Mel gasped in surprise. With even the poor light of the bonfires screened out, the stars were glorious. The path away from the beach showed quite clearly even in the starlight. Ulf put his arm around her waist and they walked slowly along the path.

As they walked, Ulf slipped his hand under the waistband of her bikini. His finger gently stroked the line of her hip and buttock. She nuzzled close to him, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He stopped after about a mile and, dropping the blanket on the ground, turned her to face him. He kissed her hungrily, crushing her body to him. His tongue seemed abnormally long, reaching to the back of her throat.

He took his hands away from her buttocks for long enough to undo her bikini top. His chest seemed hairier than she remembered, tickling her nipples as he once again pulled her to him. Then he slipped her bikini pants over her hips, and let them fall to the ground. Mel could feel his hardness pressing against her and, with sudden urgency, grabbed the waistband of his swimming shorts and pulled them down.

He lifted her in his arms, roughly straightened the blanket with his foot and laid her down on top of it. She was already wet and he entered her without difficulty. She began to moan in the back of her throat as she felt his long, powerful thrusts inside her. She was soon on the edge of her climax.

Then she felt his muscles spasm. He went completely rigid, pulled out of her and fell onto his side. Mel knelt anxiously over him. Then she noticed that hair seemed to be sprouting from his back and shoulders. She looked at his face. His jaw was lengthening into a snout and his teeth were growing longer and becoming pointed.

She glanced at the sky. The moon was starting to rise.

She leapt to her feet and started to run back to the beach. Perhaps she would be safe if she could get back before he had completed the change.

The moon was well above the horizon now and her eyes, attuned to the starlight, could see as clearly as if it was daylight. She risked a glance back and screamed as she saw the horrible, obscene thing that stood outlined by the pallid corpse light of the moon. It wasted valuable seconds ripping away what was left of its clothing and then it was haring down the track towards her.

She was already half way to the beach, but the thing was horribly fast. The last part of her run lasted only minutes, but they seemed like hours and she knew that she would see in her nightmares that panting, drooling thing, all hair and fangs, hunting her through the benighted jungle under the lunatic rays of that terrible moon.

She was only yards ahead of it when she reached the screen of plants that lay between her and the safety of the beach. She burst through it with a final effort.

But her cry for help died in her throat as the partygoers turned towards her. The lupine faces, the feral eyes and, above all, the fangs. As they closed in on her she saw, through a gap in the crowd, the broken bodies and torn throats of Angie and Shelagh.

And this story is one that does not have a happy ending.