This was an unusual sort of werewolf. Smart. Cunning. It seemed to have the mind and eyes of a human, but its strength was beyond that of a normal werewolf. It landed a few solid punches in Dean's stomach and then smacked him around a bit, knocking him to an alley wall. Dean's breath left his body, and he felt a burning pain in his arm.
Sam quickly came to the resure by jumping onto the creature's back and shoving a syringe into its neck. The creature fell to the ground and slowly returned to its nude human form.
Sam helped Dean up, and Dean instinctively took a look at his burning arm. He lifted up his shirt expecting to find blood, but instead found three pink scars that looked as if they'd been there for years, perfectly healed.
"What the hell?" Dean asked himself.
"Dean, that thing scratched you."
"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," Dean retorted angrily.
"No Dean, you don't get it. A bite from a werewolf turns you into a werewolf. But a scratch . . ."
Sam was cut off when a strange rumbling came from his body. His pecs began shaking beneath his shirt and he began to howl. His body remained smooth and hairless as that of the naked man lying in the street, but his muscles began to grow.
His pecs were the first to inflate, growing to the size of boulders. Next were his arms, which turned into loaded cannons. His abs were next, turning from a six pack to a stong, well-defined eight pack. And then his calves, thighs and glutes grew big and strong. His mountains of muscles soon loomed over Sam.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 10:40pm on Dec 22, 2024 via server WEBX1.