Forced to Become

Ch 10 terror

The bowls had been taken away, and the man had left. It was only the boy now. He just stood there, where the man had been, not saying anything.

I was getting tired, and wondered if I would get in trouble if I tried to lay down. Little side glances showed everyone else still on their hands and knees. I sighed and shifted my weight around, trying to relieve the pressure on my knees. Everything about this position I was stuck in was uncomfortable.

"Be still, new one," the boy said in a commanding tone.

I felt tears welling up as I tried to stop squirming. The boy was in a mood to punish, and I didn't want to be the one he punished.

"The bad one is trying to be good now," the boy finally said, " and the new one is being very good. New one, I will call you good one now, and bad one, I will call you new one. I will give you a chance to prove to me you can be good."

The bad one whispered, "thank you lord." I wondered if I should say anything, but decided to stay quiet instead. It seemed out of place to say anything after the kid behind me already spoke.

Our young lord didn't seem to object to my silence. He was too busy with the smirker. I couldn't resist looking over out of the corner of my eye.

"I will call you the bad one now," the boy lord said before walking across the room to the captive he was addressing. I was surprised when I heard a thud, then another. I couldn't stop myself from looking for real. The boy was kicking the smirker, the new 'bad one'. I trembled when the bad one fought back, knocking our boy lord down.

The sound that came from our boy lord's throat had me putting my eyes back in front of me and lowering my head. It was a growling sort of snarl, and it sent shivers down my spine.

Our boy lord picked himself off the wooden floor, then stomped out of the room. He returned with two more boys as young as he was, if not younger. They converged on the recently named bad one, literally using their weight to pin his arms down. Soon his hands were chained, his wrists fastened to his collar. Unlike me, he didn't get a short chain to keep his head down. He was fastened to the floor with a longer leash. He was now on his knees and elbows. As the small group of kids got off the bad one, I brought my head back in front of me.

"Now I must teach him why he should obey. Watch," he commanded. "All of you, watch." The boy walked around the room, making sure all of our faces were turned toward the bad one.

I didn't understand as the boy removing his clothing, becoming as naked as we all were.

He walked...no, stalked, toward the chained boy on the other side of the room. The smirker started to whimper, and he hadn't even been touched yet. I stared, uncomprehending, as I watched the boy's backside sprout hair, his body bending. It was impossible! He can't be!

Yet, the boy had a tail that was sprouting into existence before my eyes, confirming the impossible. My eyes felt like they couldn't go any wider. My mouth hung open... until I involuntarily sucked in a breath. Then all I could do was wheeze in breath after breath.

I heard little mewling sounds coming from behind me. My own involuntary sounds joined the chorus of whimpers and cries from the others.

The smirker moved as far away from the approaching, transforming boy as his chain would permit.

"Down," the boy commanded, his voice deeper and rough sounding.

The smirker shook his head back and forth repeatedly, unable to move closer into his former position of his own volition. He was pulling against the limits of his leash. The boy, no longer a boy, pounced, and the smirker screamed, a loud shrill scream. I couldn't help thinking he sounded like a girl.

The smirker fell down in terror as our young captor growled fiercely. What used to be a boy raked his victim with the claws that had replaced hands. I watched as those claws moved, drawing blood that brought out more bone-chilling, high-pitched screams.

Part of me was terrified, absolutely terrified beyond words, beyond any horror movie scare I had ever experienced in my short thirteen years of life. And yet, somehow, some small part of me was relieved that it wasn't me. That was the thought that kept running through my head; it isn't me!

He liked me, our young lord, he had said so. He wasn't going to tear into me that way. I was obedient. I was good. I was the good one. He liked me. He had petted me.

My body shivered violently, again and again. I couldn't bear to watch anymore, my head going down. As the sounds continued I couldn't help looking up and over once more. Our four-legged werewolf lord was standing over his victim, growling and snarling. He was snapping his teeth, but he wasn't biting his prey.

The smirker was curled into a ball, his arms around his head as much as he could. He kept screaming even though he was no longer being touched. I wanted to pity him, but I found myself feeling slightly smug. I had a feeling he wouldn't be smirking again any time soon.

My own thoughts shocked me. I'd never considered myself as being callous. No one deserved to be made to scream like that, but I felt almost vindicated as our lord moved to the middle of the room, the long hairs disappearing from his body.

I felt tears, almost of relief, welling up within me as the wolf became recognizable as our boy lord once again. Somehow I had survived the insane, terror-filled moment. Our wolf lord had not come to me. The overwhelming terror was dissipating like fog in the morning sun. The fear was ebbing away, leaving mere trepidation in its wake, along with a stone resting its weight on my heart.

He likes me, I kept reassuring myself over the smirker's continuing screams. He likes me. I kept repeating my litany as if it somehow, hopefully, it was going to make a difference.