Gerard’s mouth is still opening and closing, no sound emerging from it, as he falls to the ground; the blood and bile spewing from every orifice, blackened by the mountain ash in his system that had caused his body to reject the bite.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Scott?” Derek asks from his prone position on the ground, looking up at me with hurt in his pleading eyes.
I feel the pull to tell him the truth; to say that Deaton thought it best to keep everyone else in the dark about the plan, that he said the less people that knew the less chance of someone slipping up and Gerard somehow finding out. But I steel my resolve; I can’t let the wolf control me like that.
“Because you might be an alpha, but you’re not MY alpha,” are the words that come out of my mouth. My voice is harsher than I intended, and the wounded look in Derek’s eyes spreads as his whole face shows just how much my words and tone have hurt him.
I feel as if I just stabbed myself in the heart as I turn from him and walk away, but I know that must the wolf; the invader inhabiting my body showing its displeasure at my rejection of the alpha and his pack. I just wish that it didn’t make me feel like I betrayed the pack and wish there was a way I could allow myself to be a part of it; but that’s not what I want, it’s what the wolf wants.
It’s been over a week since the fight at the warehouse and I still feel the wolf gnawing at me. I can’t concentrate on anything. Stiles even managed to get some balls past me and score when we were practicing lacrosse; it’s a good thing school’s out for the summer because if Coach had seen he would have chewed me out for a week. Every day it’s getting worse, I feel hot and feverish. If it wasn’t for the fact I’m a werewolf I would think I’m getting sick. I’ve been avoiding Derek and his pack since the fight with Gerard, I’m pretty sure I’ve burned all my bridges with him; so, that leaves talking to Deaton or Stiles about it.
Stiles will just start asking a thousand question that I don’t know the answer to, or he will end up spending all his time researching werewolf diseases on-line; he might even recommend asking Derek. And at this point I need something more reliable than what what I can find on Google; that leaves talking to Deaton.
My shift is practically over and I still haven’t been able to muster up the courage to ask Deaton about what’s going on with me, but I can’t put it off any longer. I need to figure out what’s wrong with me; and I have to do it subtly, in a way that doesn’t make him think it has something to do with me.
“So, I was thinking that I should find out what could maybe make a werewolf feel sick, there must other things than wolfs bane, right?” I ask as I’m cleaning out one of the animal cages.
“Are you feeling sick?” Deaton asks back.
“What, no, I was just… it’s just that I don’t have an alpha to go ask about werewolf physiology and being one I just thought that…”
“I have noticed your lack of concentration today,” he interrupts me, “You even put the notes on Charlie, Mrs Fields’ Blue Persian, in the folder for Maxwell, Ms Armstrong’s King Charles terrier.”
“Exactly,” Deaton pointedly says, “So, Scott, what do you really want to know?”
“Umm… well, I’ve not be able to concentrate and I’ve been feeling hot; hotter than usual, and feverish, like I was running a temperature or something. It kinda feels like it did when I was coming down with something, when I was human and could get sick…”
“It could be a number of things,” Deaton replies, “From a reaction to coming into contact with certain types of wolfs bane, a spell or curse, or it could be a new evolution of your power. I’ll see if there is any way to narrow down the possibilities and in a few days I should know more; if nothing has changed by then we’ll run some tests to determine what is happening.”
I leave the clinic feeling a lot better about things now that I have someone that is looking out for me.
Today has been a complete failure.
It’s a few days after I had finally spoken to Deaton, and he still hasn’t been able to give me any answers.
I was getting frustrated and called Stiles, we both logged on and spent the day playing CoD. He’d loved every minute of it; having a hell of a time as he continued to beat me every game. I just couldn’t focus; my concentration wandered, I felt hot and my body ached. There was a tingling sensation over my skin, and it felt as if it was pulled too tight across my body.
Eventually I just gave up and told Stiles I was signing off. I wasn’t going to get my dignity back tonight; I did worse with each consecutive attempt. I imagine I’ve got too much on my mind to fall asleep anytime soo...
I wake in the morning to the sound of my mom’s car pulling out of the driveway, she has an early shift at the hospital; I can feel the tangle of the bed sheet around my legs. As I pull myself up and sit back against the headboard I can see one pillow laying on the floor a few feet away, and even though I slept through the night I feel spent. But everything else is gone; the heat, the aching, the sense of unease I’ve felt non-stop over the past days seems to be gone. I actually feel great, every part of me feels amazing, so reach over to the lotion on the nightstand; as I do I look down at myself and the bed and notice what’s happened.
My chest is smooth and hairless; the hair from my arms is gone too. With growing panic I kick away the tangled mess of sheets and look down, hair is everywhere; short hair covers the bed and looks as if I were a mangy dog that had shed its coat. All of the hair from my neck down has fallen out of my body. Disentangling myself from the sheets made it clear that my hair isn’t the only thing I’ve lost.
Where my cock and balls used to be I find just a slit… almost like the lips of a… I have a fucking vagina… and as the thought finally registers I panic.
My heart is pounding in my chest as I leap from my bed and… fuck, I don’t know what to do. I feel the tears pool in my eyes and start to fall down my cheeks. I’m scared, and I feel so helpless. Maybe this is just a dream – a nightmare – it can’t be real.
I move towards the mirror and look at myself; the expanse of smooth, hairless, skin from my neck down, and the mound of flesh where my cock and balls should be, bring a shuddering gasp and whimper from my throat. ‘It can’t be real’ I repeat to myself, my hands running over the hairless skin – it feels so strange and different – down towards that area.
I don’t want to touch it, I want this to be a dream, I don’t want to make it real but… my fingers caress along the lips, slip into the folds and as I bring them up to the top they brush against something that sends a jolt of an electric sensation through me and the gasp that shoots from me has my hand jerking away.
I don’t know what has happened to me. I don’t understand… this shouldn’t be possible… this change can’t be, but I know it’s the wolf’s fault. Fuck. Fuck. I don’t know what to do… I can’t leave the house, I don’t want anyone to see me like this. With a hairless body, and… that…
I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, I feel the tears threatening to fall, but I won’t allow it; I’m not a girl. Whatever is happening to me, I am still male. And whatever is happening I can deal with it. I can work this out; I’ve faced and dealt with psycho hunters and a kanima. This is…
I need to talk to someone about this; someone that knows about werewolves, and can explain what’s happened to me. And how to undo it.
My first thought is Stiles. But don’t think he’ll know anything, and will need to research, and I don’t want to see… this… and think less of me because of it. He’s my best friend and I don’t want to lose his friendship.
Deaton would be able to find out what has happened, and he was already checking out about the hotness and concentration problems I was having. This must be connected, but he didn’t know what those were, and he said to let him know if anything changed. But again, I don’t really want my boss to see me like this. Plus, he’s a doctor, what if he wants to… see it. No, Deaton is not an option.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I fear my only option is Derek.
He is a born werewolf, and he has more chance of actually knowing something. I really don’t want to interact with the any of the pack – especially the alpha – but I don’t see any other option if I’m to get any answers about what has happened to me. And if anything, he’s the one person I know who’s opinion matters the least to me; so that’s something.
I quickly pull on some clothes, just some jeans and a shirt; the material feels strange against my skin, the hairlessness making me feel more and my underwear feeling loose and just not fitting right without my… I rush out the door and ride my bike to Derek’s loft.
I pound on the door and wait for him to answer.
The door opens warily and Isaac is standing on the other side frowning in confusion.
“You smell different,” he says, almost making it sound like a question.
“I need to talk with Derek,” I reply, adding, “Privately.” I see Derek standing at the top of the spiral staircase; only wearing a pair of sleep pants. Isaac’s frown deepens as he looks between Derek and me, waiting for his alpha to tell him if I’m allowed in their den.
“Isaac, go meet up with Erica, Boyd, and Jackson, and get some breakfast,” Derek says as he walks down the stairs, “You can all head out to the house after and I’ll meet up with you there after I’ve ‘talked’ with Scott.”
Isaac takes one more look at his alpha before he shrugs and then heads out the door; barely acknowledging me when we used to be nearly friends.
As he walks to into the apartment he sees Derek sniff the air, and his eyes widen in shock; his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.
“So, you changed last night I take it,” he smirks, a wolfish grin breaking out on his face.
“You know what’s happening to me?”
“You don’t?” he asks as he lounges back on his sofa, “It must have started a week or so ago, and you must have felt… off, so you would have talked to Stiles,” I must give something away in my look as he continues, “Ah, you didn’t go to Stiles about it, too embarrassed maybe? That means you went to Deaton. He should have been more than able to explain.”
“Deaton said it could be several things, a spell, a curse, the wolf evolving…”
“You have certainly evolved,” he snorts, “So, Deaton really didn’t tell you anything?”
“No,” I snap back at him, “Just tell me what’s happening to me,” I demand of him. His eyes narrow in anger and I can feel the wolf trying to get me to bare my neck in appeasement; the wolf’s desire to show submission to the alpha wins out and Derek smiles at my act of surrender.
“Show me,” he commands.
“What? You already know, why do…”
I don’t want to; I want to yell at him to just tell me what he knows, but my fingers fumble with the buttons on my shirt and jeans as I strip out of them and pull my underwear off, throwing them defiantly on the floor.
“Sit,” he nods towards the other end of the sofa he’s sitting on. The wolf is enjoying following the alpha’s orders, I can feel the tingle of excitement in my crotch and hope that Derek doesn’t notice.
Suddenly he’s on his knees between my legs, pulling them up and spreading them as leans in close and examines the… changes. I feel myself blush, and turn my head to look anywhere but at him.
“Look at me,” he growls. I turn back to face him, but the low rumbling growl continues as he looks at the mound between my legs. I feel my pulse and breath quickening, a gasp escaping from my throat. Derek’s eyes dart to my face before his gaze returns lower.
“You’re going to need this,” he says as his fingers caress over the lips of… there’s some sort of moisture on his fingers as they continue down over my…
“What?” I ask confused, between the touching, and the wolf preening under the alpha’s attention, and the sensitivity of my skin where his fingers continue to glide over me.
“See how aroused you are?” Derek absently asks ignoring my question, his fingers raised in front of me glisten, wet with some of the fluid that’s leaking from my… the vagina.
His fingers return between my legs, rubbing over the swollen lips and teasing the sensitive spot at the top. I feel myself shudder at the contact.
“See that clit emerging from your pussy? How it’s twice the size of an average clit? That’s what has become of your cock,” Derek’s words float over my skin and I can’t hold back the whine; it looks like a tiny cock peeking from the folds of skin, but before I can respond he rubs the wetness from the vaginal juices over the clitoris and my head falls back as a moan is pulled from me. His fingers massage my clitoris in a circular motion and my hips begin to move to meet each stroke. I feel him leaning over me and he bites and sucks on my nipples. As my nipples get larger and harder from the attention Derek is giving them with his teeth, his lips, and his tongue, my breath quickens. I feel hot all over, and my heart is racing.
His fingers haven’t stopped playing with my clitoris, and it feels so sensitive and swollen, and I feel so wet down there. Suddenly I’m gasping. I lose all control to the wolf, my legs wrapping round him, trying to pull him closer, as I bare my neck to him whimpering in need.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, Derek!” his fingers never stop rubbing against me and his teeth bite around my nipple, “Alpha!” I scream as I my body go rigid and I hear him release a satisfied growl.
As my heart beat and breathing return to normal I look at him, looking into his red alpha eyes and I know my own are shining amber.
“As much as you loved my fingers teasing you, I know what a bitch like you really wants,” Derek growls at my ear, “But don’t worry, I know how to give you what you need.”
“What do I need?” I ask a little breathlessly.
“You need your alpha’s knot,” Derek says, “You’ll need contact with all of the wolves in the pack before you go into heat; the more intimate the contact the less you’ll be affected by your heat, and the more focused you’ll be afterwards.”
“Intimate… heat?! What?!” I screech jerking out of his touch as I try to get off the couch, “What do you mean I’m going to need…?” I can’t understand what he means, “And go into heat? What? Like a dog?”
Derek growls at the dog comparison and I can’t help but bare my throat to him. The wolf still having so much control over my actions.
“We’re not dogs, we’re wolves,” Derek growls, before continuing, “And you are one of the rarest werewolves.”
“What am I?” I ask, filled with uneasiness at the answer he might give.
“You’re my bitch.”