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    skinnydragon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Shifter - 1. ShifterhSifterhiSfterhifSterhiftSerhifteSrhifterShifter

Clearly, I remember the first time. I remember the first time clearly. I clearly remember the first time. It was a surprise. For me, that is. It was a surprise to me. It was certainly a surprise to him, without a doubt. There were two of us astonished. Two of us were astonished, but for different reasons. The feeling which stunned me was the ease with which it had happened. The feeling which stunned him was the undeniable fact he was about to die.

I never did learn his name. I never harbored ill will toward him. Honestly! Maybe just a little. Just a little, maybe. Maybe a little just, too. But certainly not enough to warrant what happened. I know that. I even knew something was amiss at the time. Even I knew something was unleashed within me. I knew even the moment it was set free. Something I never knew must have been living inside me. Why it happened at that time and place will forever remain a mystery.

It wasn’t a coming-of-age thing. I was twenty-five when it happened. That first time, I mean. I’ve read werewolf novels and other similar tales. The protagonist usually discovered his powers as puberty struck. It was nearly a cliché. But I was twenty-five, the onset of puberty far in my past.

Was the location too odd? The location was odd too. It didn’t occur in the woods or remote countryside as one might expect. There was no howling of wolves or cloud of bats. No, it was nothing like that. This first time happened right off the walking path on the city’s riverfront. Aside from the fact it was late at night, it could have been populated by many witnesses.

I didn’t intend to go there for that purpose either. Not the killing, but the encounter. Well, in truth, I might have hoped for the encounter. The encounter might have been hoped for. Had I known at the time what I knew now, I would simply have wished for the encounter. That is how powerful I’d become. In any event, I was walking on the path when I saw him. He was fairly young, sitting upon a large block of concrete. Or, maybe it was a boulder, I can’t remember which. It was, after all, a few years ago.

As I approached, he was carefully appraising me. I was carefully approaching and he was appraising me. I knew why he was there so late in the evening, sitting on that rock, appraising me. When he smiled, I knew enough to stop. I stopped right next to him. The transaction details took only a quick moment. I followed as he took a more sheltered path, down to almost the river’s edge.

I remember the peacefulness of the location and the lapping sounds of both the river and his mouth. He had more experience than one might have expected, given his youthful appearance. Whether or not that was the cause, I was transported for the short time it took to ejaculate down his throat. That’s when the trouble began. The trouble for him began. For him, the trouble began. Not for me.

He feigned anger at not being warned. He did not intend to swallow my seed. This was not part of the original deal. At first I was surprised, then upset with myself. It was when he demanded more money that I realized this was all part of a con-game on his part.

And that is when it happened. That is when, for the first time, my being shifted into another of God’s creatures. He had but briefly turned to lift his jacket from a branch when it took place. It did not cause me pain, like the men who transform into wolves in those movies. No, it was nothing like that. I only remember my thought at the moment. You’ll understand why I still know that thought, even after all these years when I can’t remember what he was sitting on. You’ll know when I tell you.

My thought was “What a snake he is!”

Immediately, I was a snake. I had become a large, coiled rattlesnake, the size of my human body. It happened in a trice. When he turned back toward me, you could see the terror in his eyes as I struck him. Again and again, my fangs sunk into him. I do not remember how many times I hit him, but he was dead almost instantly. My venom was copious and potent. I slithered back up the small path and, as I returned to the riverwalk, I was my human self again. I was Ethan again.

Over the next few days, I felt contrite. The realization I did not even know the young man’s name bothered me. I do remember checking the local newspaper for a full week. There was no mention of him. I knew he must have been discovered. Maybe he had no identification and was homeless. My friend had become just another statistic. Then it occurred to me what was going on. It occurred to me then, what was going on. They were afraid to publicize what had happened. After all, the size of the fang marks and quantity of venom would have revealed the existence of a very large snake on the presumably safe waterfront. I could imagine quite a futile snake hunt was underway.

At first, I was confused about what had occurred. I truly had no idea what happened to me. I continued my routine, going to work every day as though nothing had changed. And, nothing did change. My life proceeded as it always had since I graduated high school. I worked for the same auto repair shop, knew the same few friends, stayed carefully in the closet and only visited a local bar after work on Fridays – never drinking too much.

For a whole year, nothing of the kind happened again. Well, something did happen, it just wasn’t quite of the kind. I was enjoying a walk in a nearly deserted park on the outskirts of town when nature called. I noticed a small building which housed a men’s room on one side and a women’s room on the other. When I began using the urinal, a guy came in and used the other one, which was next to mine. I could tell he was trying to entice me. When I was done, he was just finishing too. I ran my hand over his firm butt, you know, to let him know I knew what he was up to.

Well, surprise, surprise! He pushed me away and called me a vile name. I knew what he really wanted, and couldn’t understand this unusual line. So I grabbed his penis, which was still hanging there, as his continued little temptation for me. He pushed me harder and I pushed back. I don’t think he was expecting that because he slipped on the floor and fell backward, hitting his head on the porcelain. That knocked him unconscious. It was at that very moment I shifted into an incubus. The new me easily lifted and carried him into the handicapped stall.

As any respectable incubus would do, it had its way with him. He would have been left there unharmed. He really would have. Unfortunately he awoke before it could leave and then began making noise. What could the incubus do? It had to bash his head against the toilet, repeatedly, until it was clear he was dead. I shifted back into Ethan at that moment. I felt sorry for my friend, lying naked and bashed there on the floor of the handicapped stall, but he had clearly brought it all on himself. I’m sure you can see that.

The year continued without anything much worthy of note happening. It was somewhere within this timeframe that I met Zane. I know, it struck me as an odd name too. I think – no, I know – I was getting a little bored with those same friends at that same bar every Friday. I decided to branch out a little. Funny, I had been in that same rut for over three years, but it was at this gravid moment I decided to emerge from my womb of ennui and taste someone else’s beer. But I did not drink beer that day. Also, and most importantly, I did not remain Ethan.

As I entered the barroom, I spotted him at once. Perhaps my eyes had trouble adjusting to the dark room after coming in from the sunshine. He was sitting directly under a light above the bar and was the first person I saw. I guess you could say he was in the spotlight. The moment I noticed him, I became another person. I did so because I wanted to. As soon as I wanted to, I was. I realize this might be hard for you to believe, but it was true, and I had proof. As I took the stool next to him, I saw my reflection in the mirror behind the bottles at the back of the bar. It was not Ethan who was staring back at me. Actually, the alter-Ethan was pretty handsome.

My neighbor looked at me and offered a smile, which I returned. I ordered Bombay and Campari. Alt-Ethan did not drink beer.

“Hi. I’m Zane. That’s an interesting drink.”

Suddenly, Alt-Ethan needed a name! It was the one detail I hadn’t considered.

“Alteth.”

“Is that the name of the drink?”

“No. If it had Cointreau, it would be a Jasmine. If it had sweet vermouth, it would be a Negroni. If it had dry vermouth, it would be a Licia Albanese. But without any additions, I guess it’s just a gin and Campari.”

“Then what is Alteth?”

“That’s my name.” I took a swallow.

“What kind of name is it?”

“Mine.”

“OK, Alteth.”

Zane turned to face the bar. I assumed he was done with me, except – as I took another swallow, he was staring at me through the mirror behind the bar. I finished my drink, left a few dollars for the tip and departed. I stopped at my car and waited. I knew Zane would follow.

Sure enough, about a half-hour later a couple walked into the parking lot, followed by Zane. I smiled as he pretended to be surprised. Surprised that I was out there.

“Alex, I didn’t expect to see you out here!”

Zane was clearly a little tipsy since he got my name wrong. Then I worried about him driving in his condition.

“Are you OK to drive?”

“Sure, I’m good. Why are you standing out here in the parking lot?”

I approached him. “Do you want a lift?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You don’t want a DWI. Why not get in my car?”

That’s when Zane made the biggest mistake of his life. It was his life-ending mistake. He pushed Alt-Ethan, who was only trying to help him toward my car.

“Get away from me, you gorilla!”

You could see the terror in his eyes as Alt-Ethan swiftly shifted into a real gorilla and knocked him out with one huge punch which caved-in the side of his head. The gorilla threw Zane over his shoulder and carried him behind the building. I’m ashamed to admit that the gorilla was horny and knew Zane was about to die anyway and didn’t want to waste such an appealing piece of ass.

Sometime during that activity is when things shifted. Shifted! Things shifted. I must have shifted back through Alt-Ethan and into my own body because I was just regular Ethan when the police arrived and arrested me. But my DNA must not have shifted when I did, because they matched mine with what they found on and in the young man at the river and the guy from the park.

I cannot understand why I’ve lost the ability to shift. Try as I might, I have not been able to shift since that day ten years ago. If I could, I would certainly have become a bird and flown over the walls of this prison.

Copyright © 2016 skinnydragon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Wow, so after reading Graeme's, Jess', and Val's reviews, I realized I had the story all wrong! I really did think Ethan shifted into all those creatures! lol

 

He is one fucked-up dude! When he kept switching around each sentence he wrote, I thought he was OCD or something. lol Or maybe just an editor...:P

 

I don't normally go for shifter/werewolf stories, but I had to read it because it came from Skinnyland! And you never know what treasures you will find there!!! :)

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Holy wow. I'm sure you're making an otherwise pasty Edgar Allan Poe crimson with envy at this moment. You have made a masterful short piece worthy of bearing his name, my friend.

 

Repetition has nevermore been used to such fine and chilling effect. I wonder if this story's appearance here in September foretells more for Halloween next month, or a fine entry to the Blindsided Anthology. This story would be suitable for both.

 

Amazing work. Thanks for posting it.

 

(as an aside, I will say I really like CG's observation; that the mental rift in the man is probably caused by his self-repression, and finds horrendous release. I also appreciate Val's point that 25 is the most appropriate time of life for men to experience a break caused by this kind of internal pressure.)

 

 

Edited by AC Benus
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I don't have any words to describe my feelings after I read this. Or my feelings have no describing words after reading this. Or after reading this I don't have description for any feelings. I don't know. Don't I know!? Do I don't know?

 

I just started to read what everyone said. Yeah what ever they said, I read. Does that make any sense at all? Is there any sense that doesn't sense at all? Just the sense!

 


Bravo. Just Bravo. You have shown how a great writer can written a write. A great write can be written by a writer. I am bowing to the work of a great artist. Thats such an awful story, created goose bumps from the first sentence to till the end. Wonderful story SkinnyD. Wonderful...

 

~Emi.

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