Man and Monster: Chapter 2

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#2 of Man and Monster

As Ryan struggles with his new form(s), he has an idea; maybe he can be both Man and Monster...


Man and Monster: Chapter 2

I raced through my hometown of Winterberry looking for something to kill and eat. Possibly not in that order.

Two hours ago, I had put on a cursed necklace, which had apparently contained the spirit of a powerful wendigo. However, the necklace had been a hack job, and the wendigo inside (named Biidanaandam), could still possess those who wore it partially, transforming them fully into his true form temporarily, and partially all the time.

Of course, I didn't really care at that point, because my personality had morphed into that of an actual wendigo-temporarily anyway, and as I said, I was now looking for something to kill and eat in no particular order.

After all, I was hungry.

I quickly loped along, searching for... something. There were humans all around me, but some vestige of my human personality steered me unconsciously from innocence and good as food. I needed something to eat that was evil, something nobody would miss, something...

There.

With my new, impressive night vision, I could see a scraggly, thin man with a long coat handing something out to a bespectacled, nervous woman. She handed the man an exorbitant amount of money, and he grinned evilly.

Even without having a nose, I could tell that the baggie was filled with PCP also known as "angel dust". It smelled like pure pain and death and misery, wrapped up in a sickly sweet and poisonous exterior.

The smell coming off the man was even worse.

He smelled like pure greed, narcissism, and antisocial tendencies. He didn't care that he was going to eventually kill the girl, or that he was killing himself by making his shit, only that he was rich off the suffering and ignorance of others.

This was the guy to eat. Nobody would care but those he sold to, and even they would forget him. What would remain of his corpse would find its way into an unmarked grave, and the rest of the world would go on by, not even realizing that this dealer had existed in the first place.

I was no saint or even hero. But I could at least try not to be a total monster when I ate.

Such a noble one Biidanaandam mocked.

I was too hungry to care about his sarcastic jab. I stalked into the alleyway, my unnatural cold causing hoarfrost to appear on surfaces. Instinctively, I turned sideways, and shimmied along (you'll find out why later).

"Fuck its cold" the woman said".

"Don't matter," the drug dealer said. "Just hand over the money, I'll hand over your new scratch, and we'll both be on our way".

I began growling softly, as the two nervously looked right at me - and then right through me.

You see, wendigos can only be seen from the front by mortals. Essentially, if it turned sideways, I was effectively invisible, until it turned forwards or backwards, or the viewer moved in the same direction. Limited but still useful.

Also, it doesn't work on cameras, which comes to bite me in the metaphysical ass many times later.

"The fuck that's coming form!" the dealer yelled. "Take your shit and go! I'm getting outta here!"

As he moved to run past me, I raised a large, clawed hand, and picked the dealer up - then threw him against the back of the alleyway.

As I turned forwards again, I became visible, and the woman screamed. I simply looked at her and growled one word;

"Run".

She obliged, and I turned my attention back to the drug dealer. He had managed to get to his feet woozily (brick walls are extremely hard, if you didn't know already), and pulled out a beat-up Saturday night special.

And then unloaded all six rounds into my chest.

That's a lot of bullets to the chest, and these were .38 - pretty big bullets. Of course, that meant shit against a creature with little in the way to speak of internal organs, mind your also that I was not exactly in RPG terms "squishy" toughness-wise.

Of course the bullets sank in, and I felt pain, but it was dulled, and my body simply... ate them. And now the asshole was flat out of ammo.

I stepped towards the loser,as he fumbled to reload. In return, I simply swiped my claw, taking the gun away - alongside his hand.

He fell screaming as blood fountained into the air, and my hunger grew even greater. I simply couldn't take it in anymore.

I went in for the kill.

My claw sliced his jugular, spraying blood over my fur. As the light went from the dealer's beady little eyes, I felt a primal sense of power and victory over my prey. I then ripped his throat out with my fangs and swallowed it, feeling the gore and blood go down my throat.

But I was still hungry.

I bit and tore into the corpse, feeding in an orgy of violence, and when I was done, there was little more than bones and intestines left. (not even I want to eat shit).

Still not full - for now - I screeched and raced off into the night.

I woke up that morning in my backyard, wearing nothing but a torn pair of denim jeans, and a thick coating of blood and gore. As I sat up, the night's memories came back to me, and I felt a bloody gorge rise in my throat.

I quickly ran faster than any normal human into the bathroom to throw up and then take a shower. Unfortunately, I could not throw up more than a bloody trickle into the sink. Looking into the mirror, I saw the stuff coating my new fangs (one of which had grown back), and unconsciously licked it off and swallowed it.

Disgusted with myself, I looked down at my body. I was still corpse-like pale, with claws, ridiculously thick black hair, fangs, red eyes, and the damn dreamcatcher necklace I could still not take off. At least I had my dick back.

You're never going to be human again. Biidanaandam mocked. Why not simply... let go? Was last night not fun?

Remembering tearing the drug dealer to shreds, and eating him. And the pedophile. And the rapist. All horrible people, it was true, but did anyone really deserve to be killed that way.

Admittedly, a lot of prey animals died that way to predators so the predators could eat. However, was I really a predator? Did I want to be a cannibalistic supernatural monster?

Last night's "adventure" spelled it all out.

If Biidanaandam was not lying (and I was quite sure he was telling the truth). I would have to consume human flesh to survive. I would never be human again, not just physically, but in mentality. But maybe it didn't have to go all the damn way.

I had to keep this under wraps, but there was no way I could keep it from Chuck. If I just left out my "feeding habits", and tried to restrain myself, I might be able to live a semi-normal life.

Not possilbe Biidanaandam sneered. He'll be reviled and disgusted by what you are. Unless he's got some weird fetish for supernatural creatures, you're out of your game.

I grinned, finally having the upper hand on Biidanaandam. "You'd be surprised by what people are into these days. I'm also pretty sure if your actual form had a dick you would be jerking off to gore and vore videos."

No clue what those are, the spirit said confusedly. But they sound great.

I just grinned and called Chuck.