Chapter One
“It is the fifth consecutive day of protests at the Chatterset oilfield, where fracking processes have been started less than a month ago. Incentive for the protest are a series of unusual earthquakes, protesters told our reporter, Molly Cannigan, who is on site at this moment. Let’s switch to Molly and see what is going on.”
The TV droned on and on, flickering and distorting ever so often. I paid no attention. It was only on to fill the silence and keep my neighbors from hearing me grunt and groan through my evening routine. Beating off was one of the few things in my life that actually made me still feel something close to happiness, but even that small pleasure had lost some of its appeal with repetition. Maybe my growing waist was to blame for my loss of interest, but I doubted that. I had always been a bit meaty and I hadn’t gained that much weight since I’d switched to self-employment. Sure, my diet had changed from something at least resembling food fit for human consumption to a fast-food- and microwave-diet since money had gotten tight, but the whole weight thing had become a runaway train anyway.
“As you can see behind me, even the storm season couldn’t deter these citizens from congregating to protest against the controversial construction of the site. Hundreds of men and women have joined forces tonight to form a human chain and keep out the trucks, hoping to send a sign to those who wouldn’t listen so far—”
My cock was slippery between my fingers, pulsing in rhythm with the strokes of fingers even though my skin felt raw. I at least had gotten hard this time, but so far, this had led nowhere and an hour of sheer self-torture had passed with nothing to show for. Sure, my body felt the tiny, rutty shocks of lust whenever I rubbed my thumb over the spongy tip, but there was no tingle in my balls, no tightening knot in my stomach, no goosebumps. Just the wet slap-slap-slap of my hand, my grunts and the sounds of a snoring dog mixed into the tinny news ticker.
Why did I even do this anymore? If my ex saw me like this, beating off to a news cast because I was too lazy to get up and switch the channels, much less change the batteries in my remote, he would have thanked all his angels for having been dumped just at the right time. If my mother saw me like this, she would disown me, no matter what God thought of leaving family hanging.
I slowed my hand, then stopped beating off, staring blankly at the TV. If there was a hell, this was what it must feel like. The blankness, the exhaustion, the inability to get up, to get going, the disinterest in everything. Slowly wasting away in a one-room-condo that stank of sweat and garbage, alone and dirty, beating off to a news report, with nothing but an old Maltese for company and dependent on a few packages of precooked Hungry Man meals in the fridge. I blinked, closed my eyes for a moment and blearily tried to remember how I had ended up like this. Where had I gone wrong? When had I passed the point of no return, the point where I had stopped caring and started wasting away?
Nothing came to mind.
“Things are escalating, Susan! As you can see, police are trying to break through the chain of bodies cutting off access to the fracking field and people are not having it. I was just informed that some kind of siren has started blaring in the main control room but right now, people are screaming so loud that we are not able to hear it—”
I tightened my fingers and tugged at my half-hard cock, trying to get back into some kind of rhythm. If this was the last thing I had left to enjoy, I’d do it, come hell or high seas.
“Did you see that? Tom please tell me you got that on camera— OH MY GOD!” Static and white noise followed, but I didn’t bother looking back at the screen.
“Well, it seems like some kind of accident happened and we lost contact to our reporter on site, but investigations are on the way—” Another scream, more white noise.
There it was, that prickling in my balls as they were pulled higher, that knot slowly forming deep in my guts, sending goose bumps over my thighs. I groaned softly, contorted my sad excuse for a body, hunting after that promise of ecstasy now that I was so close. Just a little more, just a little…
The flat turned dark and the stink of ozone flooded my nostrils, then the TV exploded and glass and plastic shrapnel riddled my body. My cock jumped in confusion, caught in mid-orgasm, then something hit me, rushing through my body with a wave of pain so pure and clean, it pulled the cum out of my cock after all and stopped my heart at the same moment.
Each cell in my body popped and lost cohesion as another wave of fiery pain tore through my bones and squeezed an inhuman scream out of my closed throat. I tried to open my eyes, tried to catch a hold on something, anything, but there was nothing but blackness, a darkness deeper than the universe around me. The vastness laid ruin to my mind as I tumbled and turned, clawed and screamed. The feeling of free fall turned my guts into jelly and then…
Confused panic turned into pure, sheer ecstasy like a switch flipped in my mind. Pain lost its meaning as my limbs, hair, skin, no- my cells, the atoms that made me what I was- drifted away, joined into a cosmic net that stretched far beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Distance ceased to exist, hunger and thirst dissipated, my body melted away and left nothing behind. Lightnings of blue non-light flitted through the unending dark of the world, lighting up a network of non-veins everywhere, rushing up thick stems and dancing over cross-sections and smaller and smaller twigs and nerves stretching between me and eternity.
Weightless.
Painless.
Forever united with everything I had ever thought of and everything I had never thought to think of. One with it all. United with the pulse of existence itself. Ecstasy.
I screamed with a mouth that had lost all substance. I tore at the invisible strings that held me where I was, struggled with force I hadn’t known I had. Away, just away from that utter bliss, from that horrifying unity that was not supposed to be mine, or anyone else’s for that matter. This was wrong, wrong enough to jump-start my heart, to strain away from that irresistible wake, to fight with the last drops of blood that hadn’t yet been ripped away by the storm tearing me apart.
Only the storm didn’t let me go. It roared through me for what felt like hours. Just when I thought I couldn’t hold on anymore, when that bliss, that eternal happiness began to look more enticing than hanging there like a ripped, torn up rag and hoping that enough of me would be left to even survive, did it finally drop me back into life.
I fell, crashed into what had once been my ten-dollar-sofa, and felt something pierce my stomach. A garbled, painful whine slithered out my raw throat, then I blacked out.
*
It was still dark outside when I came to again. My body throbbed, hurting in a way that a human wasn’t supposed to be able to and my vision wavered and blurred, no matter how many times I blinked. The stench of smoke, ozone and smoldering plastic lay heavy in the air, but dust and smoke were too thick to actually see what had happened to my home. A faint memory of my TV exploding came to mind, so maybe I had been knocked out? I rubbed my eyes and stared into the clouds billowing around me. My TV was gone, the couch had obviously broken down beneath my weight, and the walls across the room had cracks as big as my pinky. Big chunks of plaster had somehow gone missing.
No exploding TV could have done this much damage. This looked more like a gas explosion or maybe a bomb or an earthquake. But shouldn’t I remember something like that? And why did my stomach hurt so much? Coughing, I tried to sit up. Pain shot through my body and froze me on the spot. Something was stuck in my abdomen, pulling at things that weren’t supposed to be touched.
This couldn’t be real. Mustn’t be.
My panicked gasps filled the strange silence as I pushed myself up on all fours, coughing as dust crept into my nose and mouth. A piece of metal definitely not originating from inside my flat was sticking out of my stomach, just an inch from my mid-line, crooked like a tree branch and still smoking softly. I grasped it with both hands, screaming hoarsely as I ripped it out and promptly blacked out again.
The next time I opened my eyes, the dust had settled a little and the noise on the street outside my broken windows had multiplied. The distant thunder of helicopters echoed through the ruins of my living room, followed by sirens and bloodcurdling screams, but everything sounded distant and contorted. I stumbled to my feet, losing my balance as I let go of what had been my couch and all but falling towards the window. Something behind me rustled as a strange weight pushed at me and shards of glass crunched beneath my feet, but nothing could tear away my eyes from what I saw outside.
The building across the street, another set of two-story-apartments, was in flames. The front side of what had been a cookie-cutter-copy of my own block had broken off, offering glimpses inside the flats. Offering glimpses at the monster ripping through what was left of a kitchen.
Giant, leathery wings stretched in an angry display over a dark red, humongous creature on stilted, wolf-like hind legs. Claws as big and long as knives carved deep grooves into the old linoleum floor as it clawed for purchase with its legs. In its hands, it held a bloody, disfigured torso still wearing the remains of a police uniform, ripping off the remaining arm with an ease that was almost fascinating. More policemen rallied down in the street, ducked behind cars and screaming as the monster threw both the twitching arm and what was left of the dead officer down at them, spread its wings and howled like a hellhound.
Bile shot up and spewed out of my mouth and onto the broken windowsill. Then the first shot rang out and I ducked, stumbled back and coughed as multiple guns rattled off what little ammunition they had. An inhuman howl followed, then a crash, then the chaos on the street intensified as the beast continued its carnage down on the street.
What the hell is happening? What the fucking hell is happening?!
I tried to curl up but something pushed down on me again, blocking me from rolling my back against the wall. That leathery sound repeated itself, followed by a bone-dry rattle like that of a snake. I instinctively fled forward, cutting my hands as I crawled through the glass shards and tumbled over the remains of what had been my couch. The pain was sharp and immediate, but nothing against that supremely alien feeling of my ass brushing against my knee. And my back brushing against my flank.
This was it. I screamed and threw myself to the side, rolling over the floor in crocodile-like panic as I tore at the things twitching against me, entangling me in ways that shouldn’t ever be possible. What my body told me couldn’t be real, but even as I clawed at the big, unwieldy stretches of bone and skin and that fleshy snake twisting around my hips, each and every attack was answered with shots of purest pain that racked up my panic even more.
Only when my fingers crunched and grew claws that actually drew blood, I finally realized that I wasn’t being attacked. I was attacking myself. Those things, those canvas-like, leathery wings, that twitching, half-armored tail, they were mine. As were the bony, claw-like caps that had sprung out of the middle joints of my fingers.
What the fuck?
Pain suddenly didn’t matter. I scrambled into the kitchen, crawling backward as if that might help shake off limbs that I wasn’t supposed to have. The shiny metal fridge stopped me, but I didn’t dare turn around. I didn’t want to see. I wanted to wake up, right now, in this instant. This couldn’t be real. This mustn’t be. This wasn’t me, this was a dream, a nightmare, a hallucination, probably from poisonous gasses, this wasn’t me, this isn’t me!
Machine gun fire rang out, rattled like castanets against the outside walls and spewed a few bullets into my flat. Then another siren blared by, rushing away as the chaos on the street erupted once more. I whimpered and wrapped those gigantic, leathery wings around me. The feeling of new skin, new nerve endings, brushing up against my arms tore a jumbled whine out of my throat, but I didn’t try to shake off the false comfort of those wings. What did it matter that they weren’t supposed to be there when the world had obviously ended?
*
I stayed hidden there for hours, cowered into myself like a lame bat, until the last of the smoke and dust in my flat had settled. Police cars and fire trucks still howled by, but those sounds had turned tired and distant and the screaming on the street had long since stopped. The light shining through the ruins of my windows was turning dark blue, promising that dawn was coming.
The relative quiet settled my nerves at last. I carefully unfolded my wings, pushed myself up into a crouch and risked a glance over the kitchen counter. Nothing. Silence and destruction, but the quiet remained. Mostly.
A soft, whinnying growl came from the curtains still dangling in front of the balcony door. I pulled myself up higher, holding on to the breakfast nook as I fought for balance on my new, elongated paws. It took a few moments to figure out that standing on the balls of my feet was really the only way to stay standing at all and not lose my footing, but with that done, I turned my attention back to the source of the sound. I knew exactly who had made it. That poor thing.
“Cricket? Where are you?”
I had no idea how the ancient little Maltese had survived whatever attack had happened. Fifteen-year-old dogs had a tendency to drop dead after climbing a single stair case and the dog’s heart had never been good. Surviving destruction like this was nothing short of a miracle, but one that put hope back into my heart. So I had wings and a tail, and claws, obviously, so what? At least I hadn’t lost the dog I was supposed to keep safe and watch, that had to count for at least something, right?
Using the nook as support, I padded out of the kitchen, trying my best to ignore the rustling wings and the twitching, long tail. Both were unwieldy and didn’t quite obey me, but at least they didn’t impede me yet.
“Cricket?” I called again, let go of the counter and staggered another few steps to reach the dinner table and hold on to it. It wasn’t so much that walking with my new legs was difficult, but I still felt achy and dizzy and really not myself. Not that I was surprised; I wasn’t even close to what I had been before.
The curtains rustled and something shot out and into the broken remains of the couch. A soft, grinding, angry whine followed by a nickering bark wavered eerily through the ruins.
That didn’t sound right. My wings shivered without any effort on my part and the bony, armadillo-like armoring along the leading edge rattled warningly again. In all my time sitting that dog, I had heard Cricket bark exactly once, so I couldn’t be sure if those were his normal sounds. Whatever the answer, they still sent cold shivers down my back.
This needed another tactic. I crouched down and leaned forward to look beneath the couch, but I didn’t come any closer. That poor thing was probably frightened to death!
“Come on, Cricket. It’s me, Craig. I know I don’t look like I should, but would you please come out?”
Silence.
I crawled closer, keeping the couch at arm’s length as I pressed my cheek against the floor, trying to make out anything at all in the darkness. “Pretty please?”
The couch jumped and rattled as it was flipped over.
Whatever had hidden beneath it flitted out of the shadows and threw itself on me, whinnying as its disproportional giant mouth snapped at my thoat. I roared and threw myself back as rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth pierced my skin and ripped out a chunk of flesh near my spine, then shook myself violently enough to loosen the beast and throw it across the room.
All that had happened in but a heartbeat. Before the first drops of blood hit the floor, the sickly green-black beast crawled up the wall like a spider and gulped down whatever flesh it had bitten out of me. Its beady, swamp-green and iris-less eyes stayed fixed at me as I stumbled back against the table, pressing one hand onto the bleeding wound. The pain was exquisite, unique, bone-deep, but I didn’t dare look down to assess the damage. The creature bared its fangs into a grin, slithered a long, black tongue between those dagger-like teeth, and licked them clean without so much as moving its jaws.
Nope. Not Cricket anymore.
I ran. The beast screamed and followed, claws squealing across stone, then wood, as it tried to catch up to me. I threw myself around the corner, crashed into the door leading into the bedroom, and smashed it right into what had been Cricket’s face as the nightmarish creature tried to worm its way through the gap. Even the closed door didn’t seem to discourage it. Wood groaned and hinges rattled as it rammed the door again and again, scratching claws and fangs over the surface.
“Not real, not real, not real,” I gasped, locked the door jerkily and tottered back. On instinct, I picked up my P.J. bottoms and pressed them against the bleeding wound at the back of my neck, but my eyes wouldn’t leave the rattling, bouncing door. It wouldn’t hold forever, that much I knew. I quickly took in my surroundings, even though I already knew that I had nothing even close to a weapon in here. What I did have, though, was a window.
I looked back and forth between the last window with actual glass in its frame and the jittering, groaning door. Doable. Had to be. I stumbled around the bed dizzily, ripped open the window and looked outside, ducking as another armed SWAT car howled by at full speed. This was crazy, but what else could I do?
Leaving the window wide open, I sidled along the wall across from my bed and toward the door.
Was I really going to do this? The lock was already starting to tear, the screws holding the hinges in place breaking out of the wooden frame. If I didn’t act soon, the creature would get inside on its own terms and the deep wound on my neck proved that it wasn’t about to turn friendly.
There was no other way. I resigned myself to my fate, took a deep breath and turned the lock. Please let this work. I’ll never moan about being bored again. Please.
I held my breath, ripped open the door and the creature stumbled through. I grabbed it by a leg, lifted and threw it towards the window. It jerked as it slapped against the window sill and tumbled outside, nighing and whinnying as it disappeared into the dawn twilight. I threw the window closed.
For the next few moments, only my rapid huffing and the loud beating of my heart filled the room. Then I dropped to the floor, closed my eyes and cackled madly.
Something slapped against the window and I was up again, all but falling over my tail as I jumped over the bed and fled into the closet, slamming the flimsy door shut behind me.
Nope. Not my day. Not my day at all.
*****
Thank you for reading!
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