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The tendrils are in control

You can hear a gentle soothing voice, speaking to you - " Don't worry, everything is ok. I'm taking care of them all for you.. Don't worry... All ok... All fine... ". You fight against the voice, struggling to wake up - and then you do.

You're in the town square. Buildings around you are blazing - was that you yourself, or was it simply another werewolf power? To set things ablaze? - people (what few are left - most are strewn about, dead, their organs flapping gently in the breeze) are screaming, and you are holding a great car above your head, poised to throw it at a quivering little girl. You KNOW this isn't right - you drop the car with an enormous *BANG* and, getting down on all fours, run to the forest and the pond once more.

You stare at your reflection and recoil - even Werewolf films weren't as bad as that. The tendrils in your brain and your new body, they appear to feed on bad feelings: Fear, aggression, hatred... even when felt against the tendrils themselves, they grow more powerful - and ugly. Your face is now completely unrecognizable. Whereas before you looked like an enormous wolf, you now look like a demon hound. Your fur is black and still dripping faintly with blood, your snout has grown to pig-length and your teeth are enormous and dripping with gore, you have grown another 3 or 4 feet, and your claws are at least two feet long and smeared in the blood of the tuxedoed man and his cohorts.

" Noo... " you whisper. Fear. Sensing it, the tendrils once again take control - but this time, to your horror, you can SEE what is happening - you feel yourself mechanically being led... led to...

Written by an anonymous author (edited by wanderer)

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