Instinct

Inspired by the world of Tiktok creator @ishness. Munk is his original character.

18+ NSFW. TW: primal kink, breeding kink, stalking, choking, biting, fear play.

"Woah, dude!"

Grunting an apology, I pressed on, shoulders hunched and head down. Tonight of all nights, actually opening my mouth to say "sorry" would mean a flood of sensory stimulation, and I didn't want to deal. Just the thought of it encouraged the clawing, intrusive voice in my head that had been building to a crescendo all evening.

Snap at him.

Make him whimper.

What would he taste like? Hot blood seeping between your teeth, the tang of it on your tongue? 

I wrinkled my nose in self-disgust, knowing the hood I wore would shield my expression from curious bystanders. Even though I'd already put several yards between me and the stranger, my heightened sense of hearing still picked up on the gravel crunching under his sneakers as he pivoted to stare after me. His quiet little mouse of a girlfriend was tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to avoid a scene.

As though she could do anything to stop you, hissed the monstrous inner monologue.

The almost non-existent sound of fabric rubbing against his arm grated on my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

Like claws on asphalt. Like fangs on bone. 

It wasn't until I was over a block away that she managed to persuade him to forget about it. About me. Even so, I heard him muttering obscenities and empty threats until I rounded a corner and viciously shoved an earbud in my ear, tapping over to my loudest playlist. Angry guitar, primal vocals, and a ceaseless bass line seeped into the cracks and crevices of the moon-driven beast within me. The music gave it just a taste of the rage it craved. I hoped it was enough. Enough to tide me over until I got home, anyway.

Even though it was routine by this point, the full moon never grew easier. Every month, my body changed with its waxing. My veins dilated. Pupils too, regardless of the ambient lighting. My leg muscles were stiff and sore, like the growing pains of my long-gone teen years. An endless hunger gnawed at my gut. Every sense was heightened: a constant barrage of noise hammered my eardrums and my already-impressive olfactory sense expanded by almost a mile. I'd grind my teeth to the point of waking myself up--if I managed to fall asleep at all, through the agonizing sinus headaches and neck tension. 

Tense necks. Bones snapping, muscles ripping apart, squishing between your fingers.

And that, of course. The undercurrent of instinct that crept into my mind. That was the worst part. I jerked my head to the side, as though shaking it hard enough would expel the whispers.

Sensing another challenge looming ahead, I took a deep breath and held it.

The bass from a nearby club vibrated through the concrete. People milled around outside, giggling obnoxiously, slurring their words. I tried to avoid watching them sucking on cigarettes and each other's faces. Even with my earbud in and my breath held, walking past the front door hit me like a freight train. The harsh odors of sweat, alcohol, cologne, smoke blended with the scents of anxiety, joy, arousal, lust.

As hard as it was for me to be out tonight, I had to. Because I wasn't the only one who was affected by the moon... but I was the only one who fought its influence. I scowled under my hood, suddenly annoyed with all these idiots meandering the city streets. They had no idea how many predators lurked in the shadows. Waiting for them to stumble, to trip. Their laughing and sweating and breathing--