The Society Pt 08

I sit on the La-Z-Boy in Josh and I's apartment, my hands clasped tightly together, turning white, as I attempt to calm the screaming of my nerves.

Patrick stood by the window, peering steadily out into the darkness that had finally set over Starkfield.

Josh had called only moments before, his speaking voice breathless with panic, informing us that an inhabitant of Alex's apartment complex reported hearing gunshots and screams from Alex's apartment. What the police found was his door clean off its hinges, the living room riddled in bullet holes, the bodies of dead and unconscious men and women littered on the floor.

Alex and Jason was nowhere to be seen.

Unable to find comfort in my sitting position, I stand and pace my living room, my heart beat erratic in my chest, sweat forming beads on my scalp.

Suddenly, from his place at the window, Patrick speaks up.

"They're going to find him, Andy. Calm down."

I find myself unintentionally snapping back, bitterly.

"And what if they don't?"

I say, attempting to calm my breathing. I place my hands over my eyes, feeling regret burning in my face.

"This is my fault. Maybe- maybe if I hadn't told those men about Jason, Alex would still be safe?"

I suddenly find the anger smoldering under my skin like coals too difficult to contain.

I strike out with my foot at my coffee table, sending it flying into the wall of the living room with a loud bang.

"I've lost my fucking brother, Pat. This is my fault."

Patrick moves towards me steadily, putting his hands firmly on my shoulders, looking sternly into my eyes.

"You can't do this to yourself-"

He was saying, but a sharp rapping at the door cut him off.

"Who...?"

He mumbled, trailing off.

I jog towards the door, and swing it noisily open.

In the hall, with his hands and side covered in red, stood Alex.

. . .

I stumble into the apartment, losing my footing and trip.

Andrew immediately catches me, and takes my arm over my shoulder, he leads me to the kitchen table, where I fall heavily onto a chair.

Andrew's face was white, and Patrick glares at the blood that glazed my hands like gloves.

"What the hell happened?"

Andrew nearly shouts, his throat tight and shaking with his words.

I attempt to steady my breathing and heart rate, sucking in deep inhalations of air that shook with the fear and panic that burned my insides. Sweat drips profusely from my neck and brow.

My words, nonetheless of my efforts came out a shaky and disoriented mess.

"Jason- he- he-"

I gasp in a breath-

"He was shot- he's dead- men came into the apartment and-"

Suddenly Andrew takes my quivering shoulders in his hands.

"Alex- calm down, everything is fine, everything is going to be fine- I'm calling the police."

"No! You-"

I attempted to say, but Andrew wasn't listening, he pulls his cellphone from his pocket and swiftly dials 9-1-1.

I get up from my chair, ignoring Patrick's stern protests for me to relax.

The deep incision on my side stings sharply in my abrupt motion to stop Andrew.

"You can't- you don't understand-"

Suddenly a warm sensation steals my body.

My heart rate suddenly bolts faster than before, pounding violently in my chest, rattling my rib cage.

My blood felt heavy. The world felt as if to churn around me.

Andrew had hung up the phone, reading my expression, both him and Patrick posed to assist me if I were to collapse.

The warm sensation strengthened, nausea rising numbly in my throat.

"I-"

I stutter, blinking in attempt to clear my vision.

"I'm going to the bathroom."

They attempt to follow as I stumble blindly into their hallway, but I slam the door behind me as I clammer into the bathroom, locking it.

Discarding the idea of reaching the toilet, my hands grip the counter of the sink as I retch, and to no-surprise, nothing comes up from my empty stomach.

I stare into my reflection in the smeared mirror, at my paling, trembling body, my hands coated in Jason's blood like gloves, my wound burning at my side.

What's happening to me?

From the window, a full moon had finally risen into the black of the night sky, its illumination spilling onto the floor of the bathroom.

The warm sensation intensifies to a scolding heat that surged and spread throughout my entire being.

I groan, as the muscles of my body violently contract.

I stifle a scream that threatened to reverate up my throat.

Suddenly, in a pressing force, my pectorals begin to swell, bulging out of my shirt.

I lose my footing, and my back smacks against the wall of the bathroom.

I gasp for air, feeling my deltoids as they press outwards, my biceps and triceps convulsing as they steadily grow in size, my torso and arms tearing my t-shirt.

My fingers wrack against the tiles of the wall, my groans deepening to a sound that couldn't possibly be coming from me.

Veins strain from my muscles, protruding my body like thick wires.

My back is pushed off the wall as my lats expand monstrously, my shoulder muscles and traps straining as they swell vigorously in size.

The skin on my body stretches painfully, attempting to make room for the thickening muscle mass, as my quads trembled as they fatten, my hamstring and calves transforming to absurdly lean products of raw masculinity.

I felt myself grow inches taller, my bones cracking painfully, and lost in the burning and inflation of my body, a deep reverberant roar rattles my throat and fills the bathroom.

From the otherside of the door, Andrew calls, concern clear in his tone:

"Alex was that you? What's going on in there?"

He pounds against the door.

My shirt and jeans now lay in a disarray of ripped fabric over the tiles of the floor. I stood now in stretched underwear.

Short, rough brown hair sprouts over my body, spreading over like a fervent moss.

I feel the heat smooth lower down my abdominals slowly, over the well defined six pack that strained against my obliques, until it hovered intensely in my genitals.

I moan as I feel my cock thicken beneath my underpants, pressing painfully against the fabric as it lengthens, its growing mass taking up the now unspacious undergarment.

With trembling hands, I rip of the underwear off, letting my genitals fall free.

My testicles sink deeper into my sack, ballooning, hanging low and heavily behind my thick cock. My cock that once barely reached three inches now hung an obscene 5-6 inches soft. The reddish head of my cock fattened, bulbous against my thick shaft.

My skull cracks, sending a jolt of hot pain through my head, as my facial features push outwards, forming a broad muzzle.

My hands reach blindly up to my skull, as my ears change shape, and two horns curl out of my skull, arcing towards the ceiling.

As abruptly it all came, the hot sensation dulled, disappearing entirely, leaving me to lean against the wall, my now massive chest heaving labored breaths, the muscle and skin still quivering even as the transformation had ended.

I look into the reflection of the mirror, and what I saw was the humanoid bull, practically identical to what I had seen get shot down under the city streets lights, except for the jewel green of my irises glinting from the eye sockets of the burly creature.

A broad and short muzzle led to moist black nostrils that flared as I sucked in breaths.

Dense horns arc from my skull, scratching the ceiling of the bathroom.

I take a step forward, the feeling of movement unrecognizable, and feel my knees nearly give out beneath the new mass I was carrying.

No.

I continue to glare at the beast in the mirror.

This can't be me. This can't be happening. No- not to me.

The world was finally slowing its rapid spin over my vision.

Another set of pounding from the bathroom door.

"Alex? Alex! Let us in, what's going on."

I stumble from the door, succeeding in bumping into a candle on the counter, that shattered on the floor.

My eyes meet with the window of the bathroom, the moon gleaming wickedly, seeming to almost smirk at me.

I grip the window panel, and push it open. Unadjusted the raw power in my arms, I push too hard, and the window swings into the outside wall, shattering loudly.

I place a knee onto the window, but I look back suddenly, to bathroom door, where Andrew's pounding still ensued, shaking the bathroom in a rhythmic motion.

I'm sorry.

I turn from the door, and squeeze myself through the window, and fall from it, where the blackness of the night consumes me as I hurdle a story down.