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It All Began With a Love Bite

The night I was brought into existence was a magical one. Its a rare gift to
be able to remember your own birth. We had met the most wonderfully
compelling woman, that night. Well, not us per se, but only my other half.
But we were always together, or at least thats how I like to see it. Honestly I
cant imagine his existence without me. No more than just another one of the
herd.
But as I was saying, the most interesting woman wed ever met. A few
drinks were all it took to get us working, too. We were usually pretty quiet,
and kept to ourselves. But alcohol oh the sweet, sweet poison usually did
the job of making us loosen up. Itd been a rough day at the office, putting up
with the infinite amount of obnoxious cunts that litter this world, hearing
their moronic complaints not listening to, but hearing them you only
listen at first, when youre too naive and saying, over and over again, how
terribly sorry we were for something we had absolutely nothing to do with,
but that we really really wanted to fix.
Wed been working at that god-awful call center for almost a full year by
then. I still cant believe he put up with it for that long. As I said, his existence
without me it was unimaginably pitiful. More so than my birth, that night
brought on the beginning of Johns true life as well.
I demand that you give me the promotion I was promised! I know my
rights as a consumer, I wont be robbed like this, you hear me?!
I understand your compl-
I dont give a crap about your understanding! Im sick and tired of your
bullshit answers every time I call your support line! I want my money back!
Im terribly sorry for your inconvenience, sir. I can assure y-
Get me your supervisor, right now! Ive had it with those textbook lines. If
youre incapable of doing a competent job of solving a costumers problem,
then get me someone who can!
But, sir, you still havent given me a chance to try and hel-
Shut up! I dont want to listen to your excuses one more second!
Surelly I can-
Shut the HELL up!

Yeah, well fuck you.


Agh what did you just say?
You heard me. FUCK. YOU!
That conversation was playing back in our head as we stood alone at the
bar. The guilt of having lost our job (Johns job actually that part of him I
just cant accept as mine) was weighing pretty heavily on our conscience.
How were we gonna sustain ourselves without a job? Wed start getting
behind on the rent again, start fearing wed end up on the street, and worse
start considering what job we were gonna get next, possibly even worst off
(pretty damn hard though), if any at all. But oh, how it had felt to speak our
mind after so much time holding it in. Only that blissful feeling of satisfaction
outweighed the guilt. And with each drink we had, the scales kept tipping
ever so comfortably towards the right side. The one that told us we had
made the right call. We shouldve killed them all before we left, the way I see
it. But unfortunately John was still on his own back then. I had yet to
enter the equation.
Ill have what hes having, please. Those were the first words we heard
from her. That low, honey-flavored voice, it immediately called out to us. But
we didnt look at her. No, not at first. We just sat still, more so than before.
Each movement we made breathing, blinking, wetting our lips, taking a sip
of our Gin now made with the fact that she would be noticing in mind. We
felt her conscience rubbing on our own a truly beautiful and exciting feeling
that we had never experienced before, and that John could not possibly, at
that time, understand. But we didnt look at her. Even though it took a
seemingly impossible amount of force of will, we kept our eyes on the
counter. On the two small ice cubes floating in a wide lagoon of Gin. On the
single slice of cucumber that kept the cubes apart. On the chipped edge of
the glass (shit, why the fuck were we drinking from a chipped glass
anyway?!). On anything that helped us from looking directly at the immense
gravitational field that pulled at our mind, sitting right beside us.
So, youre a Gin guy, huh?
That was all it took. All that force of will and whatnot? Yeah, it all went
down the drain. When youre a guy, and you havent gotten laid in months,
you may think you have all the strength you want, that youre completely in

control. But its all bullshit. Well, at least for us, that was the case. Little over
an hour later we were leaving that shoddy little bar and the world around us
was a wild bundle of blurry joy and ecstasy.
Sure, the Gin had gone straight to our head. But it was much more than
that. Her very presence was inebriating. Simply being next to her, having a
conversation with her (even though I still cant fuckin remember next to
anything of what the hell it was John and her talked about), smelling her
fresh, flowery perfume and God! Feeling the touch of her skin as she folded
her arms around our bicep, the soft plump form of her breast pressing
against us as she leaned closer(she had no underwear, we came to know
later that night those details I remember extremely vividly) and the tickling
of her light wavy hair on our neck. It wouldve driven us mad if I was in
control. Well, if I was with John already, that is. But he was still on his own,
although not for more than a few hours.
The sex was beyond incredible. Something I can honestly promise you,
you have never ever tasted. We took a cab to wherever she told the driver to
go John had no idea where he was headed, but he really couldnt care less.
Not with her wrapped around his arm. And then the soft kisses on the neck
began. Her lips felt like flakes of heaven caressing our skin. She had no
lipstick on; there was no need for any to highlight her already plush and vivid
blood red lips. It was the direct touch of her skin that felt that good
traversing over every inch of our neck, our ear, our cheek. Long before our
lips and tongue were entwined in hers, our pants were about ready to burst,
and basically the whole mass of our intellect was filled to the brim with the
thought of just how good her lips would feel around our cock.
Im almost sure I heard the cabdriver saying something along the lines of
telling to us to calm down at some time during the drive, but before we knew
it we were in the wilderness, leaves of grass broken beneath us, small dried
sticks poking at out strained back muscles, and the cold night air enveloping
our naked body, the paradisiacal view of her riding on top of us filling our
consciousness to its limits. Strangely (or at least it should have been strange)
we hadnt been driven to her apartment, or some hostel by the road. But we
only came to notice exactly where we were the next morning by then really
and actually together, and to never be alone again.

That image of pure heavenly beauty (or completely and utterly hellish
beauty if youre one of those people thankfully a dying breed that see lust
and sex drive as sinful forces, as all of her screamed carnal pleasure, as she
was the embodiment of sexual desire, and she nearly drove us to insanity)
soon changed. Far away in the black night sky, the moon slowly began to
surge. From behind the magnificently sensual and somehow perceptible
waves of pleasure emanating from her body, and over the shadowy and
blurry outcrops of the tree leaves in the unnoticeable background, the white
round form of a full moon started showing, and with it, the change began.
The pleasurable love scratches and lustful movements of her hips gave
way to something that somehow wasnt right. I can still feel the pain John felt
as the skin of his chest slowly tore open beneath her clawing fingers. Her
deep moans of pleasure turned into loud inhuman howls and the soft silky
skin of her thighs strongly squeezing our waist hardened before a thick layer
of dark brown hair started sprouting. We were still inside her, we felt the
changes in her body, the contractions of her insides wrapped around our
member, as her howls intensified. I distinctly remember the moment when
she suddenly lowered herself near us, brought her face or muzzle, although
it was still something in between the two near ours. John was paralyzed,
both by the sheer absurdity of what was happening, and by the cruel hard
truth of fearing imminent death, so he made no effort at all to push her
away.
Her previously soft tone of voice was completely changed by the time she
spoke to us. She didnt speak much though. We could tell she was somehow
deeply enthralled in the pleasure of the moment. Im one hundred percent
sure she said she knew we were different from the very beginning, and that
we would thank her one day, although John still begs to differ nowadays.
That was before she gave us another love bite (for the first few days of my
existence, almost half our left ear was missing from that love bite, but it
eventually healed, like everything does) and before she took a mouthful of
our shoulder and held us down with an inhumanly strong grip until she was
done fucking us and had come as much as she wanted to (surprisingly
numerous times at that, from what we were aware of, in that state between

being half awake, and half passed out or maybe half dead, I cant say for
sure).
When John woke up, sweating as much as humanly possible, panting like a
dog, our eyes bloodshot and painfully widened, threatening to jump out of
their sockets, our mouth watering uncontrollably, he did so because I called
out to him. I was alone for those first hours, locked away in Johns
nightmarish dreams of rivers of blood, giant invisible claws slashing at him as
he ran naked underneath a huge dark red moon. Just a few moments from
being born, and already I was leading John on the path to survival. I was that
moon in the sky, calling out to him, trying to get him to look up, to wake him
from the near death state he was in.
And he couldnt have woken up any sooner either, as I would probably
have given up on life before actually experiencing it if I had to remain a
moment longer within that ridiculously, dreadfully oppressing darkness of his
nightmares. But then he was awake. And I was looking at the world through
his eyes our eyes for the first time, and it was marvelous. The current of
memories surged through my consciousness and for a few moments I was
overrun with the amount of information. So much so that I couldnt even
speak to John, tell him to calm down, that everything would be fine, that we
were together now and that he would never have to fear anything else ever
again. Meanwhile he was realizing what had happened, that he was alone in
the middle of a bunch of trees somewhere in the outskirts of town, still half
drunk, all of his body aching, blood still pouring from his open wounds
(although in much less quantity than would have been expected as
unbeknownst to him hed already began to heal). Wounds that had, in
some unbelievably true twist of fate, been done to him by a werewolf whod
just been fucking his brains out.
How much time had gone by we couldnt say, but the moon was still tall in
the sky, so she could still be somewhere around and could come back to
finish the job, John thought, although I knew perfectly well this wouldnt
happen. A good ten minutes went by with us running (or trying to, keeping a
steady rushed walking pace after having tripped over our own weakened,
wobbly feet half a dozen times, and stopping to double over and throw up
anything that was left in our stomach more than once) before we came out

of the trees into the main road. From there to the first house that we came
upon was only a matter of about five more excruciatingly painful minutes,
and then we had the luck of someone actually answering the door in the
middle of the night and greeting a fully naked man covered in blood with
anything else other than a loaded twin barrel shotgun. Help me John had
managed to say before falling flat on his face over the threshold of the sleepy
old mans door.
When next we came to, we were in the hospital. An IV line was attached
to our right arm, soft white sheets covered our legs and bandages kept
together the flesh in our left shoulder. Our hearing felt strangely muffled
(from having our left ear and half our face covered in a huge bandage as well,
we soon noticed) and we could only muster the strength to be half awake,
surely more from the whole shocking experience than from the drugs theyd
given us. But I was ready then, to speak for the first time with my other half.
To let my existence be known. To begin my mark on the world. But what to
say? What should my first words be? Honestly, I didnt wanna come off as
too hard-headed, with some over-the-top life-altering speech, so the best I
could think of was to make small talk. Man, that bitch could suck!
When I think back to it, maybe it wasnt the best choice of words. Maybe
the speech wouldve been better. I could tell, as soon as Id said it, that John
hadnt taken it as well as he could have. He didnt answer, obviously, I didnt
really expect to be having a conversation with him only a few hours after
having been born into his mind. Well, maybe I did at first, but as soon as I got
out of his nightmares and gained access to all of his memories, as soon as I
became aware of how the human mind worked, I realized that it wouldnt be
easy to coexist.
But, goddamn, this prick made it as hard as he could have! Not hours, or
days, but weeks went by before he first directed his thoughts at me, and
actually answered a simple question. I mean, I knew that he heard me, I
could listen to his fucking thoughts, for cryin out loud. And I told him I could,
in various occasions too. But he still refused to genuinely acknowledge me. At
first, while still in the hospital, he thought he was simply high from the drugs.
He actually believed the voice in his head was nothing more than his
imagination working over the clock due to the meds, and simply requested

more sleeping pills. I shouldnt need to state how fuckin boring those first
days were. You try being stuck in a room with someone who insists on
ignoring you for days on end. I save this assholes life and he fuckin tries to
kill me of boredom!
But when the days went on, he eventually came to know, just as well as I
already did, that I wasnt goin anywhere. So the next explanation he thought
of was that he had lost it. That the attack on the forest was probably not
exactly what he remembered, and that somewhere along the line hed simply
crossed over, and lost his mind. Maybe that woman had doped him with
some kinda drug that ended up screwing him up for life, and the whole
werewolf attack and the voice in his head were just the product of his own
broken psyche. Well, this couldve actually worked, as it was a somewhat
believable explanation. But I did warn him that it wasnt exactly, you know,
true. More than once I told him that he had nothing to fear, that we were
basically one and the same. That none of us would ever be alone again. But
he had to cut it out with all of those crappy excuses and simply accept what
was right in front of his eyes.
But again, time went on and still he would not speak to me. After two
more weeks of almost banging his head our head against the walls trying
to shut me out, he decided to leave his apartment. Maybe the company of
his old man or the familiar environment of his childhood home would help
him deal with his disease (yes, by then I had been named Disease fuckin
prick). But the day (or rather, the night) was drawing near. I gave him the
heads up too. That I would give him proof beyond any reasonable doubt that
I was real, as real as him, and as anything else around him. Soon I would be
the one taking the reins, even if only for a few hours. But then he would see,
he would realize the truth, and would finally have to deal with it. He wouldnt
believe me. He reasoned that all the other psychos voices-in-their-heads
probably said the same things, and that he would not become one of them,
he would not do as I said.
Shit. I wasnt exactly telling him to go on a killing spree. I wasnt ordering
him to strap a bomb to his chest and go murder a bunch of people on a mall
or on a train. I wasnt whispering in his ear that he needed to rape and
ceremoniously kill a woman every week for two months a year. I simply

wanted him to accept me as part of himself! I only wanted him to answer a


simple question: What do you wanna do? We needed to come to an
agreement. That much was clear. At least to me. We wouldnt get anywhere
working separately, and it made no sense whatsoever, when we could be so
much more together. But that was before my first full moon. My first full
moon. Mine because, on that one, I did what I wanted, and I made sure John
understood that he would never ever again ignore me like he had for that
first torturous month of my existence.
It was almost a full week after our return to Johns hometown. We were
lying comfortably on his bed, still early into the night, already half asleep
from having taken those stupid meds. The change was slow. Painful,
physically. Invigorating, mentally. It was my second birth, maybe my first
physical one if you prefer it that way, or at the very least, it was the night I
took my birthright. By force.
Our whole body structure grew more or less unanimously. As the muscles
expanded, at first with the strain from being, all of them, and I mean all of
them, muscles you probably dont even know you have contracted to near
rupture (thankfully, although the process itself wouldnt have been the least
bothered otherwise, John had paid a visit to the john shortly after dinner, so
there were no excrements involved), and then from actually growing in size
and complexity. Then, with the soft tissue ready to adapt, came the skeletal
change. Our spine was the first to snap and reform, followed by our legs the
Tibia and the Fibula were particularly painful as they basically split in half and
rejoined, extended, at an angle. The rest of it was simply an extension of our
human forms skeletal composition, with the obvious exception of our face.
Our eyes were crying tears of blood and our salivary glands overflowing
uncontrollably as our nose and jaw bones splintered and readjusted to form
our canine forms muzzle.
We were curled up on the floor, the bed sheets half twisted around us
and half ripped apart, by the time our teeth had grown to three times their
human size and our nails had become full-fledged claws. The hair, growing
over most of our body, over our thickened skin, fully covering our arms and
legs and torso, leaving little more than our snout, palms and fingers naked,
was the last part of the physical transformation. The whole process had taken

little over a minute in the end, but it had felt like forever, as if there was no
end to it. Partly because of the almost unbearable pain (which we later
realized had been deeply softened, at least at first, by the meds) but mostly
because I just.couldnt.wait to be free of my mental cage. To be able to
stretch our muscles and have control over our body after all that time.
When everything was finally quiet inside of us, when we first got up from
the floor and I realized I was really in control, Johns state of mind was the
first thing ironically that slapped me in the face. I think that even then,
just moments after having been through such an ordeal, hed become aware
of what hed been doing to me, and he was, at least partly, really sorry for it.
When he learned what it was like to be in the passengers seat, to become
the inarticulate observer, a recluse within the fleshy compounds of his very
own cell, his first thoughts were as much of regret as they were of surprise.
That actually meant a lot. But it didnt last for long. Fear overcame
everything else within seconds. I could say I opened the window and calmly
stared at the glorious full moon, smelled the amazingly fresh air of the night,
and absorbed the peace of total communion with our animal side, with
nature. I could describe how absolutely joyful it was to look down at our
clawed hands and feet and how I marveled at the intensity of all our newly
overdeveloped senses. I could even explain how unimaginably overwhelming
it was to become aware of our shared consciousness, how it felt like I had just
been hotwired to an immense web that expanded all throughout the world
intertwining each and every one of our species thoughts. But all of that
would be far from the truth.
What I actually did, right off the bat, was turn around and head for the
stairs, step by slow step, taking perfect sense of our environment and of how
our lupine form made me feel ridiculously powerful. Within seconds I felt as if
there was nothing I couldnt do. It was my nature to be the werewolf.
Obviously. That one should have been a given. But you have to understand it
was all new. I was, after all, only a month old.
We had to slouch in order to fit through the doorway, and all the way
down the stairs John was literally screaming at the top of his lungs (in our
mind, that is I was in control of the fuckin speech attribute by then). That
was really bothering me at first, but everything else I was experiencing easily

allowed me to ignore the bastard. Why he was so desperately screaming at


me would have been an honest question if I didnt know his thoughts, and all
the more, if I didnt know that he also knew mine. The image of his old mans
entrails splattered all over the living room was a constant. The idea of
feasting on his age-softened flesh, of wringing the blood out of his arms and
legs after breaking them apart from the rest of his decrepit old body it was
kinda freaking him out, I could tell. I have to admit I wasnt only going to do it
to get back at John. Well, mostly it was because I wanted to- no, I needed to
show John that I was in control, that he had to start respecting me. But the
instinctive need to kill. Something. Soon. It was really quite intense, to the
point that I had actual difficulties controlling myself as to not drop on all
fours and simply break through everything and anything in my path until I
found a life I could take.
In lupine form our animal instincts get increased tenfold, aggressiveness
hits a bizarre peak, and it becomes a matter of sheer force of will to actually
control yourself and remain rational. The alternative being that you allow
yourself to become nothing more than a wild beast, but ten times as
dangerous and vicious as any animal known to the common man. And once
you give in, theres no turning back either. As long as lady moon shines,
youre at her whim. I like to think that what stopped us from losing control,
even on our first turn, was the fact that I wasnt just about to allow my first
time to be taken from me, but most probably Johns conscience driving me
back also had some part in keeping us at bay.
Well in any case, we were already standing at the foot of the old mans
bed, drooling over the bottom of his bed sheets (I still cant believe the
geezer slept through the moment in which it was decided if he would be
eaten by a werewolf his own son drooling over his feet or not) by the time
I allowed John to reason with me. I made him promise he would never ignore
me again, and then I made him promise we would kill together, and that he
would be a part of it, and that he would enjoy it with me. And so he
eventually did.
While at first he was disgusted by the idea, we ended up on common
grounds when a creep that lived right on the block came to our minds in
unison. From there on it was easy. I knew perfectly well that the hunger, the

drive to kill affected John as well, and not just me, the only real difference
was that I was the part of him that existed to accept that urge, to take control
and make sure that it was carried out.
Mason was your typical son of a bitch. He mistreated his single mom
every day of the weak, slapped his girlfriend around and kicked the hell out of
his dog (a beautifully loyal Labrador retriever) if he so much as barked once
or twice. None of that really mattered to me. It just made it easier to make
John accept the fact that we were about to break into a young mans house,
brutally murder him and eat his heart (and liver, and entrails and whatever
other organs we could get our claws around before it was clear we had to
leave). The dog only barked once when we broke the front door in half with
so much as a swipe of our right arm. As soon as he saw us, even though it
was surely something new to him, his ears and head were lowered and his
tail put between his legs in a sign of respect, of fear. We would not hurt him
though. Not unless we had to.
Who the fucks down there?! Ill fuck you up, you hear me? Mason
screamed as he came down the stairs to the lobby in a hurry. We were on
him before hed made it all the way down. The first bite, the first chunk of
hot meat we tore it from his right leg (I think it was most of his leg, actually,
but I cant say for sure, it was all pretty fast) while he was turning around the
banister. He was sent spinning uncontrollably through the air from the sheer
force of the impact, missing his lower limb, and probably hit his head
somewhere because he never got to usher a single cry for help. The taste of
blood overflowed our senses. The meat, the sweat on the skin, the fibrous
muscle tissue and the blood pouring out of every small capillary vase, it was
insanely delicious. We ripped his chest apart with both our hands, and while I
knew John was disgusted by the whole act, at that moment, with Masons
still beating heart held in the grip of our long clawed fingers, I couldnt care
less. All I wanted was to eat it. To eat it all, and take every last bit of human
life left in that body, until it was nothing more than a carcass.
It was really beautiful ironic actually that in the end his dog ended up
obeying him, and remained silent as we butchered the bastard. In minutes
we were done with him, and with the whole night still ahead of us. John was

really quiet. But he understood, just as I did, that this was what we were,
what he was, and what I was, and that nothing would ever change that, ever.
A few facts about werewolf existence became clear to us as soon as we
first turned. We first considered them that night, running freely through the
woods outside the town with our hunger satisfied. Although were still not
sure of how exactly it works, the fact remains that our species awareness
seems to expand from one of us to the other, even if hundreds or thousands
of miles apart, when we are in lupine form. Its nothing like telepathy or mind
reading, or whatever, so dont go there. There just seems to be a pool of
knowledge, of past experiences that is carried among all of us, and passed on
to those who are newly born. From where these thoughts come, we cant
really tell you, as I strongly doubt any werewolf was purposefully thinking
about how we would live not for one hundred years (as would be pretty good
by human standards) but for hundreds, maybe thousands of years, and that
we needed to pursue human victims, that we were meant to be their natural
predator and trim down their numbers, and that we would not be able to
sexually reproduce, and that our body had basically become invulnerable to
flesh wounds (we regenerate with such speed that the healing process can
actually be seen if you stare at it long enough) as long as we stayed away
from silver (for whatever ridiculous reason, that legend is actually true,
unfortunately) and avoided getting our head chopped off or our heart ripped
out.
The trees went by us in a jumble of green and brown, leaves, branches,
trunks, a few wild animals skittering away at our wake as we ran and ran and
ran, lost in our thoughts and in the simple delight of enjoying the freedom to
do whatever the hell we wanted, free of the restraints of any kind of human
moral or legal code. Little more than halfway through the night, John had put
away his shame and disgust at what we had done with Mason into the
darkest recesses of his mind, and he was enjoying, almost as much as myself,
the exhilarating feel of power and freedom that comes to us in our true form.
Eventually we grew tired and stopped to take a sip of water from a small
creek. Our snout fresh with the smell of cold water, we crouched for a few
moments, and eventually dozed off.

We woke up already past noon, naked and alone (thankfully) in the


middle of the woods, with the warmth of the sun hitting our (human again)
face. Right then and there it became painfully obvious for both of us that we
needed to somehow make arrangements so that next time we didnt wake
up in the middle of fuckin nowhere, with no wallet, no cell phone, no damn
clothes, and no way to contact civilization. We had to walk for three or four
miles barefoot, fuckin barefoot, with our feet back in feeble, ticklish and
irritable human form before we came to an inn somewhere along a small
paved road. I was robbed they even took my clothes, damn them! John
said at the empty, shocked look the innkeeper gave us when we stepped
through the bell-ringing door butt naked. They took my socks and shorts
too they were pretty valuable, those shorts I distinctly remember thinking
that there was definitely something wrong with John, if he couldnt come up
with a better excuse than that. But what the fuck ever, he wasnt about to
listen to my advice on dealing with other people anyway (even though he
should).
From there on, me and John, we actually started getting along. He never
again questioned the fact that I was as much a part of him, as he was a part
of me (I suppose that after what wed been through, he would really have to
be a moron to actually believe anything else), and eventually he grew used to
the idea of sharing his body, his thoughts, his consciousness and all of his
existence with me. I truly believe that I was what had always been missing in
his life, even though it took him a while to realize it. As Ive said I cant even
begin to imagine how he made it through those almost thirty years without
me.
Ive known for some time now just how much we can accomplish, how
much we can grow, and what we can become if we truly become one and the
same entity. As it stands, although weve been at ease with each other for
over a year, he is still the human part of us, and I am the werewolf half. We
coexist (it was difficult, but I did get us there), but we still exist separately
within the confines of our conscious entities. But it has become clear to me,
both from a full year of transformations, not one without a human prey
(most with more than one, or even two), and also from small occasional
glimpses of the infinite pool of memories that we sometimes manage to get

mental access to (and that for some reason I realize that John isnt always
along with me for the ride) that we can become something else entirely if we
are willing to fully open ourselves to each other.
I am sure that I want just that to happen. Man and werewolf as one. Not
living with John as my other half, but forming, together with John, a whole
new existence. But can I convince him to merge his consciousness with mine?
To finally be ready to be the werewolf. Can I give him the reins of our lupine
form, put in his hands all that power, and be sure that he will be willing to
handle it? Yes, because he will no longer be only himself, but me as well. But
will he allow me control for the other twenty nine days of the month? I was
feeling pretty confident that soon we would be celebrating our last days as
roommates as more and more he welcomed our true nature and accepted
what we had become.
That was until that bitch Jennifer came along. Wretched, coldhearted
whore. I knew from the very first moment I laid eyes on her, that she would
be trouble. Animal instincts, even when in human form, they tell me these
sorts of things. Or maybe I just didnt like her fuckin face. Who cares? The
fact is that I knew she would end up hurting us, and I tried to warn John, but
obviously he wouldnt listen. In his defense (I should say that he does deserve
a defense attorney now and then, even though he can be a real pain in the
ass from time to time) I probably wouldnt have listened either if I was in
control. What with the huge pair of breasts always jumping out of those small
tops blotting everything else in sight, or those voluptuous lips always
wrapped around our cock, or that tight, small, pleasure hole always, always
inviting us in.
But you get a sense of perspective when youre not the one handling the
meat. Just like how John, for example, once told me we didnt actually need
to kill and eat the small baby after wed already gobbled up its parents (and I
listened) so too did I tell him more than once or twice that I knew she
would betray us, that we should steer clear of her. But he couldnt listen. No.
He just couldnt. And so his heart was broken (not our heart, clearly, as
although I really loved fuckin the bitch brainless, I couldnt fuckin stand the
sight of her in any other moment).

We went to surprise her at her workplace one day, about two months into
the god forsaken relationship (she worked as a model at this shady little
fashion agency, downtown) and as soon as we stepped through the door I
could smell her pussy juice all over the air. John refused to believe me though
(you always find some sort of other explanation to justify what you dont
want to believe when youre in love). The receptionist clearly tried to stop us
from going into the backroom, but by that time fuckin Jennys barely audible
muffled moans of pleasure were already barging in through our oversensitive
eardrums and we had lost it (me too, and not only John). Turns out (whod
have said?) there she was getting her ass fucked by her boss, and enjoying it
as much as she possibly could, the stupid cunt.
I imagined us breaking the fat mans neck and ripping his spine out of him
through it, and then using it to beat the shit out of the bitch before tearing
her heart out and eating it. With our very much human hands and mouth.
And we could have done it (okay, maybe the spine-whip part was a little
unrealistic). And we would have too, had I been in control. But John, poor
little John, was heartbroken. He just looked at her, registered the certainty
that it was really her face, contorted in wrong sinful pleasure from the fat
mans meat up her asshole, turned around and left, without a word.
I didnt beat him up about it either. I knew how fucked up he was. I knew
how he felt. I felt his feelings. So I let him be. He knew he should have
listened to me, even though it was his time of the month to be in control.
Even though I was the werewolf, and he was the man. Maybe it couldve
even brought us closer together, closer to our imminent destiny of
wholesome existence. Maybe. But that didnt happen. No. The full moon
happened. We were only one days trip away, one week later, when the
splendorous pale moon shone with all of its glory high and mighty in the sky.
And high and mighty I shone down here in fuckin hillbilly town, surrounded
by people I would have loved to tear apart, limb from limb. I say would have,
because at the time I wanted nothing to do with any of those people. Id tried
to fool myself, maybe tried to fool John too. But I couldnt escape the
inevitable compulsion. Turns out revenge is the one driving force I wasnt
able to keep from getting a hold of me, and turns out John, even though he
had truly been in love with the woman (or maybe because he had truly been

in love with her) couldnt manage to overcome it and call me to reason


either.
Not that I actually wanted to be called to reason. I wanted nothing more
than to rape that bitch one last time, to rip apart her insides with our
overgrown cock, to repeatedly pound our werewolf-sized member into her
until there was not one cunt and one asshole but a single gaping, gory whole
leading inside her, before thrusting our hand through her back and out of her
chest so that I could squeeze the life out of her cold heart as she watched it,
if only for a brief last moment.
But despite the immense satisfaction that that gave me, I never thought it
could have made me feel as bad as it did. And yes, that was exactly what I did
to that now actually really heartless whore. And I say I did this, because,
and even though I was only half in control, the other half completely lost in
the wildly dazzling, bewildering driving force of the hunger for revenge, John
although more lost in a haze of uncontrollable and surreal events than
actually conscious was completely and utterly against it, and also
painstakingly unable to give voice to his reason.
And so this brings me to the really fucked up situation I am in, right now.
John was never the same again after that last full moon. He grew quiet too
quiet and not because he was ignoring me (ironically I came to wish he was
simply just ignoring me again). I knew I had gone too far. I knew it had been
too much for him, too soon. And I feared he would do something that he
would come to regret. Or worse, that he wouldnt be able to regret later.
That I wouldnt be able to regret.
More than once, during the past days, I have found myself looking down
the barrel of our shiny .44 magnum. Its metallic, horribly cold taste, filling
our taste buds as John pushed it into our mouth, telling me to shut up and
face our fate. The smell of gunpowder poked at our nostrils as he told me it
would soon be over, that he couldnt take it anymore, that he was sorry. And
I would have cried if I could, if it was me in control. He was sorry. He didnt
want to kill me. Only himself. Even after the fuck up Id put him through.
And I was a fuckin coward. And I knew it then, and I know it now, I hear it
loud and clear. A fuckin, stinkin, coward. But I still begged him not to do it. I
begged, with all the words I could muster, that he take that silver-filled

deadly contraption out of our mouth and as far away from us as possible.
And he actually did it. He let go of the gun, did as I asked. Or rather, he just
couldnt bring himself to do it, mostly. I know. But in some part, although
smaller, I also know that he didnt go through with it because he couldnt
shoot us in the face while I begged him to let us live.
But still, here I am, not even twenty four hours later, faced with the
impending doom of being murdered by suicide. How fucked up is this? Pills.
The easy way out. Theres no real courage involved, no guts needed to
swallow a bunch of stupid pills. The real shit only kicks in long after you do
what should actually be hard to do. Fuckin pills, John? Really? Come on with
so much we could become, so much we could do, hundreds, maybe
thousands of years ahead of us, possibly immortality within our grasp, godlike power handed to us. And you choose the pills?
Almost an hour has passed since he went silent. I guess the one in control
is the one who goes first. But our body still lives, so John is still alive as well.
The pills will probably get to me soon, too. I guess there is nothing else I can
do other than hope that that whole telepathy deal actually turns out to have
some kind of truth to it and someone, somewhere has heard my story and
comes to us. Ridiculous, right? I know. I guess I just have a hard time
accepting that I wont make it past one year of age.
It was a good run, John. Im truly sorry I drove you to this. And Im sorry I
never got to tell you how much I loved you, my brother. I hope wherever
youre goin, youll be as happy as you can possibly be, free of my fucked up
existence. Goodbye mate.