The Beast I Have Become

Chapter 17

        I wake up in the morning and remember that I gave my number to Dakota. I told him that if he needs me with that werewolf stuff, to text me right away. I don't want to be responsible for making a werewolf and then just throw him to the wolves. He's doing fine so far.
        "Another day," I sigh as I go downstairs. Jack did me a favor and filled in Ryan and Matt about the information. Matt and Ryan greet me with good mornings, and I greet them back. I eat some cereal and post some pictures on Insta and Twitter. I decided to research about werewolves to hear what the Internet and other people say.

Physical Characteristics:
*probable faster and/or more hair growth
*pointier teeth
*eyes change color either due to anger or defense
*possible wilder behavior
*possible wolf-ish features

Behavioral Characteristics:
*bad temper
*very short patience span
*possibly wilder
*crave meat more often
*may enjoy outdoors more
*may growl or snarl when defensive or mad

        Well, they're all true. Speaking of hair, it's gotten pretty long. I could use a good haircut. Eh, maybe tomorrow. Beep boop beep boop.
        'Hey,' Dakota texts me. 'What does it mean when you feel all squirmy in your stomach?' I furrow my brow. It could actually mean a few things.
        'Well,' I start. 'It could either mean that you're going to transform, or that your wolf is just acting up. Any other feelings that you're concerned about?'
        'I'm ill,' he replies back. 'I've been sick all day. My appetite is gone, and my hands won't stop shaking. Lucas even said that I'm pale.' Panic starts to build up in me.
        'Then that might mean that your gonna transform,' I reply back quickly. Without waiting for an answer, I text back immediately. 'I'm on my way.' I tell Ryan and Matt that I need to tend to some important business. Before they can ask what the hell I'm doing, I run out the door. I ask for the address and save it to my phone. I use Google Maps and run to his place. I frantically knock on the door and wait for someone to answer, my foot impatiently tapping on the concrete. I then hear fast footfalls and the door opens almost immediately.
        "Hi," I reply frantically as James lets me in. "Basement?" James nods and we both come crashing down the stairs, I almost face plant. Dakota is writhing on the floor, a pained and very worried look on his face. I go over to him and try to comfort him, but it's very hard to calm down when you feel the way he's feeling. I would know too.
        "What do I do?" He squeaks while he presses his hands into his head. He probably has a very very bad headache right now. I run my fingers through my hair and ouch my glasses up the bridge of my nose.
        "Just try to remain as calm as possible," I reply as chill as possible. "I know that's it's hard, but just try to relax your muscles a bit." Dakota closes his eyes and tries to do as told. He pushes his hands through his messy black hair. He looks up at me with his striking blue eyes, blood drips from his mouth as his k9s and two other teeth on either side of it become pointy. His breathing quickens as his body starts the partial transformation.
        "I-I can't!" He screams as a small snout starts to form. I watch sympathetically. This is all of my stupid faults. I should've taken more precautions. Dammit!
        "It-it isn't your fault," Dakota groans through his clenched teeth. How could he tell? "I could tell by the look on your face." That explains it. He cries out and presses his hands to his head till they're white. There goes his humanity. I don't back away enough in time before he almost sinks his teeth into my arm. I react quickly and growl, my eyes glowing their dark yellow. Dakota stops trying to attack me and hangs his head low, whimpers, and puts his tail between his legs. I calm down and let my eyes go normal again, rubbing my eyes with my thumb and forefinger.
        "How'd you do that?" Lucas asks. He hesitantly gets a little closer, watching Dakota. I make sure Dakota doesn't jump at him.
        "Eh," I shrug. "It's kinda a wolf thing. I guess I'm kinda his alpha since I'm his 'creator' or whatever. So technically, I'm like his mom or something. Not entirely sure how it all works." Lucas and the others nod.
        "So uh," Dylan starts. "What do we do with him?" We all look at Dakota who's keeping his bright green eyes on me. I then notice everyone waiting for me to answer. I scratch the back of my head as I'm just suddenly put on the spot.
        "I guess we just wait till he goes back," I reply with a shrug. "I mean, there isn't much that we can do about it."
        Once the sun starts to come up, Dakota gradually starts to turn back. His clothes are still on since he didn't go through a lot of changes. I inform him of the process and how after two more full moons he'll transform into a full wolf.
        I plop myself onto my couch and pick up my guitar. I'm still learning and I'm trying to toughen up the skin on my fingers. If you're a guitar player you would know how it feels to first start out with the burning of your fingers when you press the strings. I work with a few chords that I was taught and do some chord progressions. I can't wait till I learn enough chords to do a song. I've tried a few, but the chords are either way out of my league, or I just flat out don't know them. I still make music with the chords I know, and try to make a new little tune every time.
        After about twenty minutes, my fingers are dying. I set my guitar down and look at the embedded line that the strings left in my sore fingers. I just have to toughen them out. I set it down and get a compliment on how nice my little turn was.
        "Hey, you're getting better," Ryan compliments. I shrug, kinda pushing it away and basically telling him that he's just saying it to be nice. "No, I'm serious. You're progressions are getting smoother and a bit faster." I give him a small smile in thanks and he gives me one in return.
        Eventually, nighttime comes and the moon rises. Nice moon to be honest, but I guess as a werewolf that's what I'm gonna think with every single moon apparently. Wow, look at me being a werewolf stereotype.
        Anyway, I get the same ol' squirmy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Damn. I know I'm not gonna transform, but it's still uncomfortable.
        I'm about to fall asleep when I get a bang at my front door. I jump, like anyone else in my position, wouldn't expect some guy banging at your door at ten o'clock at night. I groan and wearily get out of my comfortable position and put my glasses on. Apparently, nobody else heard it but me. I pay no attention to it since my brain is barely awake, and just decide to answer the damn door and get it over with. I would've stayed in bed, but I have a feeling that this person isn't gonna stop until someone answers it. I'm about to open the door and jump when more furious bangs come from the other end. I sigh in annoyance before answering.
        "Hello?" I ask tiredly as I open the door. I let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting and find a big, strong built man. He's got to be about six foot seven inches, a giant compared to me and my five-foot ten-inch figure. Silence stands between us, and I'm getting impatient. I'm about to tell the guy to hurry the fuck up with whatever the hell he needs, but before I can do anything, he puts his massive gorilla hand over my mouth and shushes me. I'm not sure why since due to how thick his hand is, some to no sound at all would escape. I then feel the cold, hard feel of a gun jammed into my side.
        "Try to escape or scream, and I'll blow up half your chest," the giant growls in my ear. His voice is a very low octave and as rough as sandpaper. I do as told while he slowly closes the door. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and give the man a very pissed off and annoyed look. He ignores my dagger-like stare and proceeds on with his business. Why am I always the one to get into these situations? This barely happens to anyone, and yet this is happening as often as you growing a second head! What the fuck?! I let this gigantic fucking hulk drag me to what appears to be his truck. He has a bigass pickup with one of those covers over the bed. He was prepared.
        "If you manage to get out," he hisses. "Then be prepared to meet the road and possibly another car." I know what he means by that. Either personally meet the road, get introduced to the bumper of a car, or both. He handcuffs my wrists down anyway and shoves me into the bed. I lay down since I'm too tall and I'll have to be hunchbacked the whole right if I sit up. I sit there in the pitch-black darkness with a huge frown on my face. The only reason I didn't try to rip his face off is due to the fear of getting my ribs blasted off. I focus and let my vision sharpen, my eyes turning dark yellow. I look around and find nothing in the bed except for some old rope.
        "Dammit," I mutter to myself as I feel the jerk of the truck accelerating. Is this guy seriously just now taking off? Yep.
        Unfortunately for me, I'm not that big, but I weigh a good much due to muscle. My momentum isn't making me feel great since every time the truck stops or drives off, I slam onto either side of the bed. When stopping, I run into the end closest to the cab, when accelerating, I run into the tailgate. Luckily my glasses didn't fall off or shatter, but the cuffs digging into my wrists make the ride even more uncomfortable. After what feels like an hour (which probably only ten minutes), my ride finally ends we arrive at our destination. I hear the engine cut off, and a thunk as the driver side door closes. I let my eyes go back to normal before he opens the tailgate. My eyes burn as he shines a flashlight right into my fucking eyes.
        "Rides over, pal," he says. I grunt with annoyance and worm my way over to him. He roughly pulls me out and I feel the sharp sprinkle feeling of dry leaves and pine straw on my bare feet. I let my eyes adjust and in the distance, I see a small, worn-out looking log cabin. At first glance, you'd think that it was abandoned. The wood is old, shingles are falling, and brush, leaves, and pine straw cover it. His cabin is in the middle of nowhere in the fucking woods. If I yell, there won't be a chance of anyone hearing me but the birds. He jams the barrel of the gun into my back and nudges me forward. I wince every now and then as the barrel jams the wrong way onto my spinal cord.
        "Open it," he says gruffly to me once we reach the door. He's already taken the cuffs off of me. I groan and open the door, which squeaks loudly on its hinges. The place is a bit eerie and I smelt the mustiness before I even got out of the truck. Everything is dusty and a small, dim lightbulb hangs over the single room. In this single room, there's a very small kitchen, a bed against the wall, and a small boxed area which I'm guessing is the bathroom. This situation just keeps getting even better, doesn't it? He jams the gun into my back and leads me to a small corner. He gets in front of me but holds my arm with an iron grip as he opens up a secret door that blends in perfectly with the floorboards. He gets behind me and jams the gun into my back.
        "This is where you'll be staying, carrot stick," he says. Never been called 'carrot stick' before. Not sure why he did if it doesn't even match. I'm small, yes, but I'm not thin. I'm wide in the shoulders and pretty buff. The place is dimly lit by some candles, a lightbulb nowhere in sight. Like I said, keeps getting better. The place reeks of must, and the air feels damp. He goes over and chains me down like an animal.
        "Do you know why you're down here?" The man asks, a mischievous grin on his face. I shake my head, obviously, I don't. His grin becomes bigger. "You're my man toy."

Author's Note
Ok, I have no idea why I chose a gay man-napper. I kinda ran out of ideas and I was listening to some true scary encounters and thought of this. I have no problems with gay people. Please don't take any of this offensively. If it is offensive, I'm sorry.