Nasferas: The Begotten

Prologue

The stench of burning flesh singed his nostrils and tore at his gut. Shrieks from the others echoed throughout the ship's corridors. Some family members had survived the transformation – others hadn't. In his heart, Davidar prayed Ralia had survived.

His eyes darted left and right searching through the dense toxic mist. Steam ascended from his fallen family's bodies, polluting the air as they writhed in agony. An agony only he could purge.

Davidar crawled across the hall and found Ralia wriggling on the ground in a desperate attempt to make the burning stop. She could deal with pain. But the panic reflected in her eyes, and the anguish etched between each burst pustule on her face, sent a blend of emotions through him. He wept for what she had to endure, regretted never professing his love, and feared she too would succumb to the transformation.

When she saw him, her eyes bulged as if she no longer recognized him.

"Ralia," he whispered.

Though strained, Davidar thought his voice sounded similar, yet aged. He was no longer the nineteen-year-old kid she would remember. After years of cryostasis, the boy she'd known, had grown up.

She kicked at him.

"Ralia. It's Davidar."

He searched her animalistic, hazel eyes, hoping that once he caught her gaze, she'd see the person she once knew within this new form.

"D ... Davidar?" she asked between sobs.

"Yes. It's me."

Patches of blistering skin on his back burned as if someone held a torch to his flesh.

"Wha ..."

"I can help." He took her hand.

At first, she pulled back. Then in a timid extension, she gave him her hand.

Davidar smiled and cradled her mottled digits in his left hand. In a fluid motion, he removed all of the boiling skin from her left forearm down to the tip of her middle finger, revealing a soft, pale layer of new skin.

She canvassed him with her eyes.

"What happened to you?" She ground her teeth and fought through the pain.

Davidar realized what had her frightened. It wasn't that a strange man had approached her amidst the most intense, terrifying ordeal of their lives. It was because someone she loved had undergone such a dramatic change.

"I don't know the origin of this mutation." He placed her right hand in his left and removed the damaged skin.

"It no longer burns." She sighed and pulled the smoldering skin from her right forearm. The sizzling flesh sloshed to the floor.

Davidar unzipped the side of her flight suit.

She jerked away, her eyes questioning.

"Sorry. Don't be afraid. I'm the same Davidar who quarreled with you over a snack cake when we were eight." He hoped this would jog her memory.

A blister on her lip erupted as her mouth crinkled into a smile.

"The skin under your suit burns as well, yes?"

Still trembling, she gave a slight nod. He took this as a sign to continue. With gentle pressure, he pulled the one-piece flight suit over her shoulders and down to her waist, relieved that her flesh hadn't stuck to the suit as it had to his. In a sudden flash of speed, she whipped her arms up, covering her chest.

His eyes dipped, settling on a steaming piece of flesh between her belly button and sternum. He dug his fingers in, down to the new skin, and pulled, letting the strip of tissue fall to the floor.

With his hand on her right shoulder, he turned her and realized the sanctity of what he had to do. His wide, smooth, new hands spanned the width of her back. Fingers stuck to boiling skin as he pressed down.

His hands slid.

Her flesh peeled.

The new pale skin glistened like someone had covered her in precious oils.

His thumbs hooked her flight suit above her hips. The motion caused her to flinch, but she didn't move away. Her pleading eyes held the truth of what she wanted. Again, as soft as he could, he guided her clothing to the floor.

Ralia flinched. A large piece of her thigh stuck to the inside of the suit.

Davidar stopped. He didn't want to cause her any more pain.

"Finish." She beckoned.

"As you wish. Does it hurt too much?"

"The pain is bearable." The corner of her mouth raised in a half-smile. A sure sign Ralia had remained herself through the process. She stepped away from the steaming cloth. Patches of skin still sizzled on her buttocks, thighs, calves, and ankles. Davidar used the same motion he had before and slid his hands down the length of her long, slender legs.

After he finished, she sat and removed the skin on the inside of her thighs, not looking down, her eyes affixed to his.

Entranced, she startled him by scooting closer and motioning for him to turn around. He realized there must be old skin he'd been unable to reach on his back. In several sensual swoops, she rubbed away the damaged flesh. Her hands lingered, gliding over his new skin, fingers trickling up and down his muscles. In that simple gesture, he realized the impact of their physical and mental connection.

Skin sizzled and popped in her hairline. She reached up as if she were going to run her hands through her hair. Instead, she pulled. Like a wig, the hair, scalp, and all, sloughed into her hands. She let the oozing mess of still-melting skin and hair drop to the floor.

Even hairless, in her new porcelain-white alien form, Ralia's beauty astonished him.

"Oh." She flinched. A tussled sea of deep auburn hair burst from her head.

Davidar marveled at the sight. When the flow reached mid-breast and continued to tumble, he tried to guess where the waterfall would stop. He smiled when it ceased between her belly button and hip line.

Her new skin had a different texture than he'd been accustomed to. The velvet smoothness and suppleness appealed to his deepest senses. Tendrils of hair flowing down her body covered her, yet she kept her forearms over her bare chest. She concealed the rest of her body by crossing her legs.

Davidar made a conscious effort not to stare. Her figure, smooth and hairless, seemed one with the universe as even the slightest hint of otherworldly movement stole his breath.

Though Davidar relished his new form's strength and stamina, something deep within gnawed. An insatiable need for sustenance, apparent in the vise of pain, crushed his insides. The innate alarm screamed at him. 

Soon, he would need to feed.

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I will be uploading weekly but may do a mid-week upload as well.

Please comment and vote if you liked the Prologue.

Whatever will they feed on? Hmmm ...