Disclaimer: Well if I owned it, I wouldn't be writing one to say I didn't, would I? I don't own nothing!
Summary: Heightened senses enabled him to hear every movement, to taste every droplet of sweat that formed around his mouth, to smell every decaying smell that the dilapidated hovel possessed... One-shot
A/N: A short piece on what changing into a werewolf could have been like for Remus Lupin. Or at least that was who I based the 'He' on. It could be anyone you wanted I guess. Enjoy!
Lycanthropy; Changing
He was on all fours, hands balled into fists, beads of sweat dripping from his naked body onto the floor of the rundown shack. His heightened senses enabled him to hear every movement, to taste every droplet of sweat that formed around his mouth, to smell every decaying smell that the dilapidated hovel possessed.
"Aaarghh!" he moaned, rearing up on his knees and grabbing fistfuls of hair. His whole body was trembling with the effort to remain in his human form. He didn't want this. He didn't want to become a monster anymore.
He collapsed to the floor again, causing a dull thud; his short nails were digging into the floorboards, peeling away the thin layer of wax that the floor contained and down to the softwood where it engraved the shape of nails being dragged. He let go and groaned again. Looking at his hands he found his nails broken and bleeding, but he seemed numb. His limbs were shaking more and more violently as the full moon rose to its highest point. In the distance his ears picked up the sounds of footsteps far away. Laying his head on the ground he could feel the vibrations of movement. They were coming.
He could hear his heart beating, pumping the adrenaline around his body, ready for the moment he'd need it, the moment when the transformation from human to werewolf was complete. He swallowed, coating his dry mouth in warm phlegm. The stabbing pain in every single bone suddenly got worse and he let out a yelp, withering like a dying flower- shrivelling and curling at the edges.
He could feel every bone in his body lengthening painfully. Thicker hair was appearing on his arms and legs, becoming coarser, more ragged... more animal like. His clenched hands became smaller, his nails lengthening in to hard, sharp, claws. He lifted them to his face and jerked in shock as pain smarted down his face. Now, as a human he could no longer control his movements. The blood drip slowly off what remained of a human cheekbone and onto the dirt covered floor. Eyes became unfocused with tears, sweat, and sheer exhaustion.
The last drop of human form was destroyed and the werewolf fully blossoming one last human thought fading quickly. Why?
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A/N: Feedback is really appreciated! Come on, it'll take you less then a minute to write 'Good job' or something of the like? Of course if you hate it you wouldn't put something like that, more like "You stink, your writing should come with a health warning," either way I would really appreciate it!
On another note, this may be one part of a series of one-shots. Lycanthropy; Recovery and Lycanthropy; Thoughts of a Monster, haven't really had much time to think it through so your input on it would be great!
Thanks.