Warning: painful transformation, death, violence, and gore.
Were-World’s Sue makes a stop in a sleepy town the morning after a full moon.
I wrote a fan fiction piece for Were-World ( https://www.deviantart.com/were-world/gallery?catpath=/ ) based on their “Sue” stories. All … copyrights? for the character are theirs.
You can find my page at: https://www.patreon.com/markgraham
The wide arc of the sun crowned against the horizon, casting pure golden light throughout the valley. The gray sky strained to contain the perfect blue yearning to break out. Birds chirped and fluttered, zipping from building to building while watching for crumbs and worms.
Light buzzed and hummed and swarmed within the neon sign for Ray’s Diner. Trucks, old and new mixed together, parked haphazardly in the lot. The white lines marking parking spots had faded years ago but the regulars had claimed their spots before then and now they parked by rote.
Gravel crunched as a small four door sedan slowed on the road in front of the diner. Its turn signal winked and the car turned, easing into the lot to weave between the trucks.
Abigail glanced outside as she stood with a pot of coffee in her hand. She frowned at the car when it slid between two old Chevys. Nobody in their small town owned a car like that and Ray’s, sitting just at the outskirts of town and off the main road, rarely saw visitors. Especially not when The Grill House was more well known and used by the few people passing through.
“Thanks, Abi,” Grady said, tapping the front of his hat while lifting his coffee cup.
“Oh, yeah, sure, hun,” Abigail said, shaking herself. “I’ll have your eggs out in a minute.”
“Aww, I’m not in a hurry. You know that,” the grizzled old man said. “You going to be at Mass tonight? You know Trudy’s not as good on the organ and she tries to sing along with the choir. She’s even worse at that.”
Abigail batted the man on the shoulder with an admonishing tsk.
“Grady Hearns, you know that’s not nice,” Abigail told him. She pulled at her white apron before touching the hairpin holding up her coiled blonde hair. Despite what she said, she felt a small sense of superiority at his words. She was better at the organ and she had the sense to leave the singing to others.
The bell hanging over the door jingled while the door itself screeched on its hinges.
A young woman entered dressed in torn blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a green flannel shirt hanging open. She paused at the entrance while glancing around before turning and finding an open table in the corner.
“Huh,” Grady said, craning to see the new customer. “A foreigner, huh?”
“Better swallow what you’re about to say, Grady,” Abigail warned when the old man opened his mouth to continue. “I’m sure whatever it is, it ain’t very Christlike.”
Instead of answering, he turned back and sipped his coffee. Abigail looked towards the shelf on the kitchen window but it was empty so she walked towards the waiting woman.
How old is she? Abigail wondered as she drew close. She looked even younger than she had when she’d first entered but she wondered if that was due to her only having seen Asians on television and never in person. Oh Lord, our menus don’t have pictures.
“Welcome to Ray’s,” Abigail said while smiling as brightly as she could. She reached for one of the menus set against the wall but the woman grabbed it first. “What can I get for ya?”
“Can I get about six eggs, ten slices of bacon and four pieces of buttered toast, please,” The girl said in perfect English.
Abigail’s smile faltered. She glanced towards the parking lot and the small car nestled between the trucks, expecting to see someone within or on their way inside but there was nobody else.
“Maybe fifteen pieces of bacon,” the girl muttered. “Yeah, fifteen.”
“Alright,” Abigail said.
The newcomer was gaunt and pale with dark lines under her slim eyes. And now, standing this close to her, Abigail could smell a deep earthy scent. Of dirt and sap and something else entirely.
“Can I get a name for the order?” Abigail asked.
“Oh, I’m Sue,” the woman said while placing the menu back against the wall. “And a cup of coffee, please.”
“Sure thing, I’ll be right back with a new pot,” Abigail told her.
Only when she walked away and conversations resumed around her did she realize that everyone had stopped to listen in. Abigail rolled her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen window to grab the waiting plate and to drop off the new order.
“She speak English?” Grady asked when his food was set before him.
“Better than you,” Abigail answered.
The waitress spun and grabbed a fresh pot of coffee to bring to the waiting girl. Once there, she turned over a clean white cup on a tray by the window to fill it.
“Here you go, hun,” Abigail said, reaching out the hand that held the cup.
Faint traces of dirt and blood and viscera were caked beneath Sue’s fingers. She’d cleaned up in a nearby creek after waking up inside her tent while making a note to wash more thoroughly when she found a bathroom. Once she’d spotted the diner, a fierce hunger had taken hold and the thought slipped her mind.
A wide, curved obsidian claw peeked out from beneath the nail growing out from the cuticle on her right index finger. The claw receded slowly, dissolving back into the tip of her finger but not fast enough. It bit into the side of Abigail’s palm, slicing her deep enough to cause blood to flow immediately, coursing down her wrist to drizzle down onto the table.
Abigail gasped. She dropped the coffee cup and it shattered, splashing hot coffee over her and against Sue’s arm. Sue growled, snatching her arm back while sliding closer to the wall. She quickly grabbed paper napkins to sop up the coffee
“Are you okay?” Sue asked, staring up at the waitress. She inhaled and her lips trembled briefly while drool pooled in her mouth. “What happened?”
“I- I don’t know!” Abigail said. She clenched her hand against her apron and her blood immediately soaked into it. “That really hurt!”
“You okay, Abi?” the owner, Ray, asked from behind the counter. “What’d that girl do to you?”
“She didn’t do nothin’, Ray,” Abigail said firmly, turning to stare him down until his glower faded. “Don’t you go blaming people when you don’t know what’s happening. I just cut myself on one of your old, broken cups. That’s all.”
“Well, I’ll go get the first aid kit,” he grumbled. “Don’t you go bleedin’ all over my diner, girl.”
“I’m so sorry,” Abigail said. “I’ll get you a new cup and- and I’m sure you won’t have to pay for your food. Is your arm okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sue told her. She licked her lips with her brow creased, swallowing and inhaling before shaking her head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m more worried about you. That looks like a lot of blood.”
Ray returned and walked around the counter to grab the coffee-soaked napkins on Sue’s table. “Come on, girl, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Abigail followed the owner to the bathroom in the back. She hesitated when he opened the little kit. The idea of looking at her hand to see how bad the damage was terrified her.
“Come on, then,” Ray said, nodding at her. “If it’s too bad, I’ll drive you over to the clinic to get it stitched.”
With a trembling right hand, Abigail unwrapped the apron covering her left hand. It was heavy and sticky and blood dripped freely when she accidentally squeezed it. Her clenched fist refused to open at first. She stared at it, willing the fingers to pull apart and, finally, they did. More blood ran down her palm before falling to the floor.
“Oh, Lord,” Abigail moaned. She looked away when Ray took her hand gently.
“I’ll try to clean around it but it’ll probably sting like hell,” he told her. “Looks like it’s already stopped bleedin’, at least, so that’s good.”
Abigail peeked from the corner of her eyes when the alcohol wipe rubbed against her palm. The white fabric darkened to pink immediately but he continued to clean until it was smearing blood. He tore open another packet to finish cleaning the skin around the wound.
“Alright, let’s see,” Ray muttered, reaching his fingers up to the dark, four inch long strip on the side of the woman’s hand.
“No, wait-” Abigail said, pulling her hand away but he held her tight while gently prodding at the wound.
“Well, what the hell, girl?” Ray said. He ran his thumb against her skin from the base of the cut to the tip. A half-formed scab flaked away to reveal smooth skin beneath. “Don’t never give blood because it looks like you’ll bleed out from a pinprick. Got me all worried over nothing.”
“But, I-” the words died in her mouth as she touched her hand and turned it back and forth in front of her. Her apron was drenched in blood and she’d felt the jagged edge of the cup tearing into her. Opening her up. A hot, quick pain that made her skin crawl.
“Go on. Use one of the old aprons hanging in the back. That girl’s food’s probably gettin’ cold. We won’t charge her for it or if she asks for anything else. As long as it’s reasonable. She’s small enough that she can’t eat us out of business anyways.”
Abigail continued to stare at her hand while shuffling towards the little closet they used as a break room. She opened and closed her fist, certain that the skin would part to show the gnarly wound she’d received but there was nothing and she felt fine aside from being slightly lightheaded. After bundling up her own apron, she placed it in her small cubbyhole and donned the new one.
“I just don’t understand,” she whispered with a last look at the side of her hand.
The large order of bacon, eggs, and toast was placed out on the window’s shelf seconds after Abigail walked out of the break room. She took it, ignored the worried stares of everyone around her and brought the waiting girl her food, careful to balance the overloaded plate in her right hand with her left gingerly touching the bottom.
“Thanks, I’m ravenous,” Sue said, immediately grabbing a slice of bacon to shove into her mouth.
“Sorry again and don’t worry about paying anything. It’s on us,” Abigail told her but the girl was oblivious as she tore into her food.
Everyone asked what happened as she brought refills but she played off the incident as her overreacting and they eventually accepted it for what it was. She didn’t even realize the strange girl had left until she saw the car backing up and pulling away.
The rest of her shift continued as it always did, with the same faces ordering the same food and nearly the same daily, tired conversations replaying on a loop. She let it sink to the back of her mind as she worked, refilling drinks, taking orders, and bussing tables until Tracy came in to help with the initial lunch time crowd. When that died down, Abigail clocked out. She gathered her things but nearly forgot her rolled up apron until she smelled the sharp, strong scent of blood emanating from her cubby. She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth before grabbing the stiffened material. The dried blood cracked in her grip and she breathed deeply of it while holding it against her body.
Walking out to her car, Abigail felt sore. Her joints throbbed, dull with a pulsing ache that radiated throughout her body and left her feeling tired and weak. The girl yawned, hiding her cracking jaw behind her hand while sliding into the seat of her old Ford Escort. It whined as she put it into reverse and something in the engine screeched, putting her on edge until it settled and she shifted forward onto the road to make her way home.
Abigail’s bed called to her. She shivered with her arms wrapped around her sides as she made her way into her apartment and then deeper into her bedroom. The girl collapsed onto her bed without changing out of her clothes and she groaned as she nuzzled her face beneath the pillow. Sleep came quickly and mercifully.
Hours later an alarm chirped loudly and happily, bringing Abigail out of her restless sleep. She moaned, reaching for her phone on her nightstand but her nails scraped against bare wood. The alarm continued to ring and she sat up, swaying slightly left to right before pushing up to stand. Despite the way the phone echoed and knowing she hadn’t felt it earlier, she still stared at the nightstand. It somehow sounded loud enough to be right there next to her but it wasn’t and so she wandered through her apartment, tracking the sound to her purse where it slumped against the wall by the front door. She silenced the phone and sighed, staring at the time.
It was her weekly alarm to start getting ready for evening Mass.
She still felt tired but was buoyed by a strange energy that refused to let her relax or rest. After hanging her purse on a hook by the wall, she made her way into the bedroom to undress, slipping out of her work clothes and underwear. Every movement made her aware of her body. Her joints no longer ached as they had earlier but, instead, were inflamed and they pushed against the surrounding bones and flesh. Even more strange, her body weighed heavily against her in a subtle way and the touch of her clean bra and panties against her body was uncomfortable.
“Augh,” Abigail groaned, swaying while clenching her stockings.
Her equilibrium shifted, leaving her off balance until she reached out to steady herself.
Blonde hairs pierced the side of her hand, coiling as they lengthened over the healed wound from earlier.
The sensation passed and she breathed deeply several times until she trusted herself to continue getting dressed. She sat to slide her toes into the rolled up stockings, unwinding them while pulling the sheer material over her bare thighs. Her black dress followed with her zipping the side.
Abigail tugged at the pleating until the dress was settled against her body. It hung uncomfortably, pinching beneath her armpits and waist and stomach. She ran her hand down her belly and tugged at it again, growling lightly before giving up. It was still ill-fitting but she ignored it while walking to the back of her bedroom to sit at her vanity.
The girl touched the simple cross she wore on a chain around her neck while staring at her face. A disconnected sensation caused her to gasp. For a brief moment, she felt as if she were floating over her own shoulder. It passed but left her distressed and awkward in her own body. She was certain that little things were off in her face. Little tiny details that she couldn’t place.
“Get a hold of yourself, Abi,” she told her reflection.
Threads of gold appeared in her iris, blue fading to icy white before brightening to yellow that glowed in the lights surrounding the mirror. The thin black limbal ring around her eyes grew thick, widening as it pushed out. She scratched at the side of her hand before focusing on her hair and makeup.
At the very end, Abigail leaned forward with her tube of lipstick in hand, dragging it over her lips. The crimson coloring drew her eyes, reminding her of the blood covering her apron. The blood she could still smell. Her top lip flexed, raising to flash her teeth until she forced her mouth closed. Hackles rose on the nape of her neck.
“Crap,” she grumbled, glancing at her phone on the table in front of her. She finished, touched her hair in several places and stood, rushing to the front to slip into her shoes and grab her purse.
Abigail writhed as she drove to church. She grinded her back into the old car seat while rolling her shoulders and scratching at her neck and side and shoulders. The girl reached out to turn on the air conditioning when she began to feel uncomfortably warm but it did little to help. She felt flushed all the way to the tips of her ears and the loose strands of her bound hair teased the peach fuzz on the back of her neck whenever they moved against her.
“I’m late, dangit,” she muttered as she pulled into the parking lot. It was nearly full already with only a few people milling about the entrance. She parked quickly and left her purse on the floorboards of the passenger seat while hurrying out of the car.
Dusk settled over the town, orange and gray streaks through a dark blue sky. She smiled at Nora Wilson and her husband until she caught sight of the moon at the corner of her vision. Her smile grew slack and her mouth fell open. Abigail moaned quietly while her eyes widened. The strands of yellow spread, tearing through the blue until the pure silver light reflected off of her golden eyes.
Abigail shivered and moaned again while tearing her eyes away from the moon. Two drops of sweat fell down her back but she forced herself onward, slipping into the side entrance of the old, weathered church.
“Abi, good to see you,” Father John told her with a warm smile. The beard he was trying to grow finally looked like more than rough stubble. He scratched it briefly and then waved the girl in. “I’ll be starting in a few minutes so go ahead and get ready. I’ll wait for you.”
She nodded rather than answering, licking her lips and scratching at her hand as she crept slowly through the door leading into the nave of the church. Heads turned to watch her when she appeared. She swallowed as her lips trembled and she found herself gnashing her teeth. They ached at the roots but grinding them together helped slightly as she sat before the organ.
Her heart was pounding and more sweat broke out over her body. She could hear every rustling and coughing and throat clearing and pages turning and phones vibrating and more. It set her on edge, distracting her while the varied smells of the church and its occupants slowly wafted over to her. She inhaled, gagged and began to breathe shallowly.
The door on the other side of the church creaked open. She bared her teeth in a silent snarl at the sudden movement but calmed when she saw Father John giving her the signal to start. The organ wheezed to life under her touch. Her ears trembled as the old pipes rumbled and the music swelled, painfully loud. The sound vibrated in her bones until she thought she’d go mad from it but she continued to play.
Abigail’s fingers slipped on the keys. Her joints popped while the bones cracked and the skin surrounding them pulled tight. Her fingers strained forward, twitching as they flexed and stretched while muscles vibrated beneath the flesh, strands doubling and tripling.
“Whaah-” Abigail gasped, staring at her hands. The twitching fingers moved like chittering spiders creeping through a web-filled tunnel, pulling back before shoving forward and being forced at odd angles. Cramps seized her hands when she tried to move her fingers.
The girl’s incisor flung out from her mouth in an arc until it clattered against the keys, blood and drool splattering against the white and black keys and the stops behind them. The metallic tang of blood filled the back of her throat, forcing her to cough. More teeth shot forth, cracking against the organ. She swallowed while pressing her hands against her mouth with her eyes wide in panic. Voices whispered behind her at the strange pause until she kicked back, standing and shoving the bench hard enough that it slammed against the floor behind her.
With her hands against her face, she could hear and feel the bones scraping and creaking and cracking beneath the skin.
“Whuuhhh-” she moaned, shoving her hands away to stare at them in horror. Her thumbs were shortened against her extended palms while the other four fingers popped and flexed. Calluses were forming along the top of her palm and the bottom of her fingers. She stared as a fingernail fell away to reveal the wrinkled flesh beneath.
“Nuhh nuhhh nuuhhhh!” Abigail tried to say through her ruined mouth while waving her palms. More fingernails were flicked away by the motion but she ignored them and ran, shoving the side door open and then slamming it shut behind her.
Her heart constricted in her chest and the pain of it shot through her core. Tendons stood out on her neck while sweat poured over her body. The chain of her necklace tightened painfully until she roared and grabbed at her throat to tear it away. And still the pain coursed through her while her heart hammered.
Dark points speared the tips of her fingers. The hot, throbbing pain of her claws taking root against the bones beneath was nothing compared to the torture being inflicted on the rest of her body but she still felt it and she roared when the claws slid forth to tear into her pale, bare skin. Blood seeped from the wounds but they healed within seconds. The black claws grew as wide as the tips of her swollen fingers.
Abigail tore at her dress in a frantic effort to ease the agony pounding through her chest. Muscles bulged when she flexed her biceps. The sleeves of the dress ripped to show thick veins beneath the hardened skin of her powerful arms. Blonde hairs grew in scattered patches over her forearms as she dug her fingers into the neck of her dress. She pulled and the front of her dress tore like paper.
The hooks of her deadly claws caught the wire frame of her bra, easily tearing it in half down the center. Her breasts, slicked with sweat, shook as she flung the bra to the side. Her pink nipples hardened in the suddenly cool air, twisting and pushing outward while she ripped the rest of her dress apart.
Bone white fangs pierced the healing holes lining her jaw. Abigail roared, flinging spittle as the new teeth split her gums open to fill her mouth with blood once more. She swallowed, greedily this time, while running her tongue over the fangs. They forced her lips back when they grew at curved angles, overwhelming her small mouth until she felt her jaw and cheekbones break. She gagged once more and fell to her knees.
“Wrrrrryyyyyy,” Abigail tried to say, panting and moaning while her mouth reshaped.
Air wheezed through the girl’s lips as she raised her head in a mock howl. Skin pulled tight over her ribcage when the bones opened like gruesome wings. Her sternum snapped but healed and the density increased before cracking again and healing once more. The girl’s already slim stomach sucked inward when her chest opened, leaving her with a gaunt appearance.
The blonde hairs growing over her arms reached up to her shoulders. They lengthened into curly strands as they crept over to her neck and down over her chest and back.
Explosions rocked her back, forcing her to her hands and knees. The agony she’d felt before was nothing compared to what she was experiencing now. Muscle fibers grew throughout her body and now they tore at her spine, forcing them up against her back until the pronounced s-curve threatened to tear the skin over her back.
Her shoulder blades swelled, flexing inward and outward with every ragged breath she took. Her broad chest lent her voice a deep, growling bass as she pushed down, forcing her back inward until her hips cracked and the stub of her tail shoved up against her flesh.
The muscles spreading through her body pulled her apart. She growled, snapping and gnashing her teeth when her feet pushed back against the thin carpet and her spine snapped in quick succession.
“Abi! Abigail!” Father John yelled as he entered the back area. “Oh my God! Oh God! What’s wrong, Abigail!”
Anger filled her. His voice was too loud and his fear prickled her nerves. Her ears bent as she forced herself to stand. He stopped in front of her, his face a mask of terror as he stared at her lengthening jaw. Microscopic hooks pulled her nose wide as her muzzle grew in place. Blonde stubble dotted her cheeks. Her ears twitched as they stretched, the tips unrolling to strain outwards into sharp points covered in short gray hairs.
No, she thought to herself, shaking her head while growling and licking her lips. As her muzzle grew, more fangs emerged from the gaps in her jaw until she was left with a mouthful of fearsome teeth. No!
“I- I- I-” Father John stuttered.
She reached for him, placing her hand on his shoulder with a pleading look in her golden eyes. The girl licked her lips, flashed her fangs and growled while her still growing ears flexed down. She towered over Father John now and she stared down at him. Breathing in his terror. Smelling his blood and meat. The beast hungered within her and it grew larger with every passing second.
“Faaaatherrrrrr heeelp,” she moaned.
Abigail clenched her paw, easily snapping the priest’s clavicle while her curved claws tore chunks of flesh from his back. His screams filled the room.
“No. No! Quiet! Be! Be QUIET!” Abigail roared. Rage filled her. She would be caught. He would draw their attention and they would see her.
The girl lunged forward, snapping her jaws against the man’s throat. Blood gushed over the bare skin high on her cheeks and forehead as well as the golden fur marching over her jaw. She reached up with her other hand to hold him in place as she tore into him while forcing him down to the ground. Her short tail curled and waved slowly behind her, hairless still, as she feasted. Blood gurgled through his ruined throat.
Long hairs wound through the holes in Abigail’s stockings as they tore over her swelling thighs. Her panties sawed into her sex when her hips widened to match her growing frame but she ignored it as she ripped meat from her prey.
Only when she felt her toes cracking and popping did she growl and look back, staring as the tiny points of her growing claws tore through the flats she’d worn. The soles separated when the joints grew swollen and her feet widened. Abigail kicked her feet back, first one and then the other until they were bare. Her big toes shriveled into thick dewclaws while her arches vanished, pulled flat by bones and muscles reshaping in her feet.
“Father John, we heard screams. Is everything-” a feminine voice asked.
Abigail could smell the woman’s perfume from twenty feet away but she ignored her until the woman spoke. The door creaked open but Abigail coiled back on her paws and leapt, breaking the door from its hinges. It bent under Abigail’s weight, pressing into the woman and then down, crushing her skull against the ground and killing her instantly. Blood oozed out into a wide, dark pool over the marble floor.
Screams filled the nave. People close to the front ran first, pushing others to the ground in their rush to escape while the people in the back tried to see what had happened. Abigail jumped, claws out and arms wide in order to tackle an older woman struggling to stand. She grabbed the woman’s head and pulled, tearing it free to throw behind her before reaching out to grab a young man that had flirted with her the day before. She pushed, forcing him to the ground while clamping her jaws over his shoulder and back, tearing into him as he screamed beneath her.
Abigail’s torn stockings were nearly hidden beneath the thick curly blonde fur that covered her entire body. Brilliant crimson blood, glistening bone and chunks of flesh littered her fur as she forced her muzzle into the dead man’s back to gnaw against his spine. Her tail, heavy and thick with fur, waved behind her.
Her hunger seemed unending and the rage continued to boil as she stood slowly on two legs, her sharp ears tall while her black-ringed eyes stared at the chaos.
She would hunt them all, she knew. Even when she was sated and full, she would continue to hunt under the light of the moon, one by one until they were all dead.
The beast demanded it and Abigail, hidden beneath layers and layers and layers of pain and anger, quailed as she shared in the excitement.