Tiny, blonde and fierce; Hilary is the Alpha and was the first among Blood on Fire to change. Her body and personality seem much more suited to a life as a Rahu, but Hilary has adapted as Luna's choice dictated. Her skill as a Cahalith is beyond effective, based on her understanding of the ways to motivate and inspire her packmates. Her talent for fighting is often underestimated, based on her looks.
Inspired by the group making characters, I wrote up Hilary's first change. The tale of any first change is burdened by that which lies underneath. Deepest fears, greatest longings and righteous fury are unleashed in the bath of Luna's gaze.
Here it is. It's just a touch "adult"- and yes, there are a lot of "H"s in this one.
I'll put her sheet up separately.
Is this all just a memory? It feels so real. It seems like it’s still happening… that’s the worst about being the keeper of memories; they’re alive inside me and they’re so vivid. They’re like movies that keep playing in my head and I can’t make them stop.
It’s Friday. It’s late. I’m alone.
I’ve been having a hell of a week- maybe I’m PMSing something fierce, or the lack of sleep is getting to me, but I have been in more fights this week than I got into all last year- and I got kicked out of school for fighting, so that’s a lot. I managed to get fired from ANOTHER job, which sucks. I think my only saving grace is my looks, and right now I look like shit. Like I said, I haven’t slept in a week, and any sleep I do get is full of nightmares. They’re even worse than usual; and everything is pissing me off.
Maybe getting out of the house will help; it seems better than staying home and kicking the cat (who suddenly hates me).
I get to The Holler and hit the bar. I order some drinks from Hal, the usual bartender. We have an agreement- he doesn’t card me, and I don’t tell his wife about all the blow jobs he gets from Cora, the waitress. Hal asks me about my boy of the moment, Trey, and I give him a non-committal answer. The last thing I want right now is to hang out with that controlling asshole. I like his body, and he’s amazing in bed; but I can’t stand him as a person right now. I can’t really stand anyone today.
The music is already playing, and I have a few shots. The late summer heat is starting to get to me, and I head outside to try to catch a breeze.
The evening air is dark, with an almost full moon hanging so close I can almost taste it. Suddenly, I feel like I’m being watched, and every inch of my body twitches and creeps uncontrollably. I have a desperate need to be around people, to talk, and to laugh. I can’t understand it, because I really don’t like people. Somehow I know being surrounded with company will help me, so I head inside and start buying drinks.
I’m in the middle of buying a round when a group of enlisteds from the base hit the bar, and I include drinks for them too. One of them turns on the jukebox, and before long we are all singing and drinking together. Several of the guys return the favor and buy me drinks, and we continue making Hal money for quite a while.
A terrible heat rushes over my skin, and I hear voices in the music, singing a song that’s familiar and haunting. I think I hear my name outside, somewhere in the night wind. I shake my head, and lean into the crowd. The heat I felt a moment ago is rising, and I’m flushed like a hand of poker. A fast song comes on, and I jump up to dance, the only outlet for all the stress and emotion inside of me. I’m overwhelmed by it, and instead of hitting the floor alone, I draw a soldier with me.
His buddies shout catcalls and joke about his luck, and I invite them all on the dance floor. I take turns dancing with each and every one of them, the music’s beat driving my pulse faster. As I move on the dance floor, my need to let everything out elevates with every breath. My body heat just keeps rising, and in the swell of dance floor, the heat off the soldiers’ bodies is sweltering. I strip off my shirt, and the hoots and cheers from the men is like a primal roar that calls to a deeper part of my soul.
The music continues, all of us dancing, singing and grinding along. Beers and shots continue to pour, and the heat rolls off my body in waves. I strip even further, and the dancing gets more intense. My skin practically burns as I’m pulled into the sway of the music, the various gunners stroking and touching me along with the rhythm. Someone has propped the door open, and the night air rushes over my skin, and my senses explode.
The sweat of their bodies, the pounding music, the beer, the shots, the outside air all smother me, pushing me under a chorus of voices from far away. I hear them calling, shoving terrifying sights and ungodly knowledge down my gullet as I gasp for air. I have to call back to them, I have to tell them I hear them- there’s so much I want to express and give back.
I can’t control myself anymore, and I just want to feel. I can’t make sense of anything. I’m utterly overwhelmed, a deep and primal urge screaming through me, piercing my every nerve. I’m beyond reasoning, beyond sense, and beyond shame. I grab one of the soldiers and shove him into a chair, straddling his lap in just my panties. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what I want, and soon he’s inside me. I grab another by the waist and start ripping off his belt, trying to go down on him as I ride his buddy. The feeling and tension in the air around me changes, and I’m aware of the primal arousal in the room. I keep pumping the guy on the chair, trying desperately to come- I just want to cry out, to scream, to release – I’m so close, but the dick in my mouth shoots off and distracts me. I’m pushed to the floor, and the group takes turns, and each time I get close to release, another of them comes; pushing my shattered ability to concentrate off and I start again with each man inside my body.
Any shame or modesty I ever had is gone, and I’m naked in a group of men, trying to ride the last of them to climax. I’m getting closer, and everything around me seems louder, hotter, closer, more alive. I smell everything these men have touched. I can sense their lust and their desperation. At least one fears he came too fast, but all of them want a piece of me. As I rock my pelvis against the last guy, I feel a cloud or fog invade my head. I’m in a haze, a thickness on my tongue and a cold chill rippling on my body as I get closer. My body is alive with nerves, every touch and breath almost too much to bear, but my mind is taken miles away as a scene like a movie unfolds in my head.
Two liquid lines, one black and one white- are in a vast darkness. The lines light on fire, searing into each other, melding and forming a single united pool. The pool fades into vapors- and the vapors stink of jet fuel. I see a plane, turned upside down. It’s on fire- I can smell that acrid fuel. There’s someone strapped into the cockpit, and I get a clearer view. It’s a man, burned beyond recognition; but he’s still alive. He’s screaming- and something is wrong- DIFFERENT with him. I can just barely make it out; there’s something …
Oh, God, I’m almost there. I don’t understand, I don’t understand, I don’t understand. I just need to release ....I can feel it, it's huge, immense---
The fog in my head clears, and I see the face of the man in the plane. It’s Trav, and then I see Trey.My face flashes in my vision for the briefest of moments. I see the firey pools of liquid again. They burn together, and the liquid shines with the reflection of a bright moon and a lupine face wavering in and out of the flames. I finally understand part of it, the part that matters.
This sliver; this glimpse- it’s just a hint of things to come. Heartache, glory, blood and fury lie ahead for me, and this understanding is the thing I never knew I needed, but is welcome and utterly completes me.
I break the wave of the orgasm I’ve been riding since the fog began, and let out what can only be called a howl as I come. It’s a violent, explosive rupture, and my body has squeezed the soldier underneath me damn near in half. His back and hips are shattered, and I keenly smell the stench of death on him.
He’s not the only casualty- several others are knocked into comas or worse. I smell myself on every man in the Holler, and see deep, ragged scratches, some bites and one has a broken leg. Hal has his trusty bat, and he’s got my clothes in a little pile on the bar. He nods his head towards my things and the door, and says very quietly- “Call Trey. I’ve got this.”
I call Trey, but I don’t know what I said. I hung up, and then I heard it.
A deep, ghostly chorus, singing in harsh voices. Guttural and hollow; almost barking- the chorus pulls me into the night. I can’t physically resist- the pull is stronger than a magnet to iron.
The night wind is cool and clear, and as I run the brushes, the dirt roads, and the swamp, I find myself loping on all fours like some animal. Running towards the chorus is the most natural thing I know, and the distance seems to shorten and bunch together like blinks of an eye.
I find myself in Atlanta, wandering the streets aimlessly. I have a burning need, but I don’t know what for. Just as I think I’ve found whatever it is I’m looking for, I feel a violent electric shock, stopping me in place. I’m physically frozen, so I sit on a park bench and try to figure out what to do.
A guy smaller than my 12 year old brother steps out of the shadows, emanating that violet energy in waves right in my direction. Tiny as he was, he had a power about him that shook me to my core.
He spoke, and I listened. He didn’t say much, just enough to keep me safe. He sent me back on my way home, telling me I had to find my own land, my own territory, and find or build a pack to protect it.
That vision rings in my head, and the work to be done in preparation for the rest of my pack gives my life direction and purpose as I head back home.