Voices – Page 22
Usually when the change came, it was preceded by a few minutes of intense itching. Brian was grateful for this, as it allowed him time to get somewhere private, away from the eyes of others. A few people had seen him in his other form. None had stuck around long enough to ask who he was, below the fur and fangs. That was probably for the best, really, since Brian was not entirely sure he could speak when it happened.
He was feeling that itching now, but it didn’t matter. He’d been asleep for nearly six hours, but it was eternally dark in the chambers below Manhattan. No one would bother him. He would simply change and, sometime later, change back. That was how it went.
Of course, this would make checking in on Jen impossible, but there was little he could do about it. While he had discovered one sure-fire trigger that brought on the change, danger (and this came with no itching. It happened fast, and was outright painful), he had yet to discover anything other than time that reversed it.
In a former life, Brian had been a junior in high school, averaging a ninety-six, a member of four clubs, who played varsity soccer as a forward. He was tall, 6’3″, and people often told him to play basketball, but he’d never been fond of the game. His hair was light brown, like his eyes. He was thin and surprisingly quick for his height.
He had never been with a woman, and this fact both amused and annoyed him. Jocks were supposed to get girls, and yet it seemed that Brian was always the shoulder to cry on, but never the lips to kiss. Aggravating, but funny. Here in this hole in the ground, hundreds of miles from the life he’d known, nothing had really changed.
He was still the shoulder to cry on, and so comfortable in the role that he had slipped into it the previous night without even realizing it.
Brian rolled over and tried to ignore the itching, wishing the change would just happen so he could be done with it. The increase in size wouldn’t destroy this set of clothes, at least. He had started taking the precaution of going to sleep in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a double-extra-large T-shirt.
Eventually, Brian felt it happening. It wasn’t painful, just bizarre. Like stretching without moving. There was a soft rustling noise as the hair grew, and he ran his tongue over his pointy teeth, elongated now. He imagined that if he so chose, these teeth could rip and tear with ease. He’d never tried. The change was not something that excited him, particularly. It didn’t make him want to experiment. It was just something he lived with.
Brian sighed, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
