The God Who Haunts Worlds

Skin Deep

(Arthur Lycaon)

I shielded my eyes from the sunlight that bounced off the cars as my father drove us through the city at sunrise. Even without the sun, the street lights and car headlights were blinding. The honking of cars, the pounding of a nearby jackhammer, and countless other noises made the experience even worse. Usually, when I experienced such sensory overload, I would repetitively scratch things. This time though, I intently gnawed on a hashbrown my father got me from a fast food place.

"How are you holding up?" Father asked. The lights and sounds made it nearly impossible to pick up his voice.

"I'm fine," I lied. I eventually just wolfed down my hashbrown and resorted to scratching the side of my chair.

"Okay," Father said. I wasn't sure if he believed my lie or not, but it wasn't like this was new to him; he knew I had autism. After a moment or two, he spoke again, "I can't believe Death Meister blackmailed you into helping her. Does anyone else know?"

"Just the cervine that smelled me and reported me to Death Meister," I answered.

"Okay, but you need to be more careful. Other Zoo sapiens can smell you and expose you. With the lycanthropy outbreak, now is the worst time to draw attention to yourself."

"Yes, Father." I frowned.

"Have you molted yet?"

"No."

"Then when we get home, I want you to molt, shower, and go to bed. Call the park and tell them you're sick and unable to come in."

"Yes, Father."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bathroom had lights of its own, but there was also a lamp plugged into the wall. The window was covered in several layers of newspaper and didn't allow light to enter from the outside. There was also lighter fluid, a box of matches, and a metal bin. With everything ready, I could begin.

I shut the bathroom door and turned on the lamp. The tainted bulb of the lap produced blood-red light. Though the bathroom was still dark, I had enough light to see. I removed my contact lenses and put them in their case. I looked into the mirror and saw my true eyes; black sclera and glowing, golden irises.

I removed all my clothes and put them on the counter. I flexed fingers and the nails extended somewhat; now they were less nail and more claw. I flexed my toes, and they too developed claws. With my claws, I carved into my flesh and began peeling off my skin. As the skin was removed, a new layer of bloody, fur-covered skin was exposed. The pieces of skin were put in the metal bin.

I jutted out my upper and lower jaws; which both began to extend. My human teeth lost their grip in my gums and gradually fell out; I collected these. As my jaws extended, new, sharp teeth rose from the gums and fit into place. The cartilage in my nose adjusted to the changed and flattened onto the tip of the upper jaw. Likewise, the cartilage in my ears shifted and my ears became pointy. I shook my head in a wild manner to help everything fall into place. When I had finished, my head had become like that of a wolf.

I poured lighter fluid in the bin before dropping a match. There was no smoke detector to alert anyone of the fire that I was using to burn the flesh away. I swallowed the teeth that fell out to help conserve calcium. This process would be disgusting for any onlooker, but for me, it was basic hygiene for a werewolf.