Wednesday Briefs #12 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2013

 

Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. If you are new and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. This week’s prompt: it's a matter of life and death. Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment.

  

The voice continued to speak in Owen’s head, spouting words of freedom and denial and satisfaction due after a decade of being bound to a weak soul. The same voice from his dream that had claimed to be life. If this was life then why did it feel as if he were dying? The heat, boiling like a volcanic core, spread from deep inside, pushing outward, paving the way for...

“Finally, I will live.”

 

With the rush of heat came a need so enormous that the vast want barely fit within his skin. Lust and desire hit him like a fist to the gut. Owen hissed through his teeth, as his cock grew painfully hard. Terrified by the swelling tide, which loomed over him, Owen knew he would drown and be lost forever when that wave broke over him. Something or someone was trying to come forth from within and gain control over his very essence, pushing him aside to live within his body. Owen felt as if he was fighting a losing battle.

 
Owen pleaded with his eyes to Dr. Sealy or Malcom, begging them for help or even pity, but they paid little attention to him. To them he wasn’t a human being. He was a thing to do with what they wanted. They had to know what they were doing to him. How could they keep torturing him? What did they want him to do? He tried to scream and cry and rant the injustice, but his voice was trapped behind the tape.

Despite all of that, what terrified him the most? He wanted to fuck someone...anyone. The yearning to find his pleasure and satisfaction was pressing down on him with a suffocating weight. The need as great as any addiction, maybe greater. Owen pulled on the restraints with strength that increased with each minute. Blood pooled and ran across his skin where the straps were bound around his wrists and ankles. A creaking groan of metal and the sound of leather stretching told Owen that soon he’d be free.

Owen shrieked at the heated flaying of his skin and finally the tape on his mouth let loose. The inhuman scream that rent the air in the tiny room had Malcom fighting to place more tape over Owen’s mouth unsuccessfully.

Another metallic groan and one of the straps holding Owen’s feet let loose. Malcom and Dr. Sealy scrambled back. Owen sucked in a deep breath and pulled at his other leg and that strap snapped as well.

“Switch the IV!” Dr. Sealy yelled at Malcolm as she backed towards the door.

Wide-eyed with panic, Malcolm shook his head. “You change the fucking IV.”

Owen sniffed the air. He smelled musk and sweat and male...Owen eyed Malcolm with what he was sure was a predatory gaze, and the voice in his head hummed in satisfaction. Owen continued to work the straps, as power coursed into his muscles.

The primal part of his brain was totally on board with the foreign invader’s goal of taking Malcolm and owning him. It didn’t matter who Malcolm was. It didn’t matter that he meant nothing to Owen. What mattered was Malcolm was male and human and possessed something the talky thing in his head coveted. What that was Owen didn’t know.

What Owen did know was that he was no longer in control of his body. He was a bystander; and once he was free from the restraints, he’d be helpless to stop what he knew was going to happen. Not only would he be fucking Malcolm, but owning the man as well, body and soul, and, oh, what the hell did that mean?

Another pop of metal and Owen’s left hand was free. Dr. Sealy squeaked in fear and yanked open the door, slamming it shut behind her. With the click of the lock, Malcolm started to scream and pound on the door, trapped with Owen and the monster invading his mind and body. Soon, there would be nothing left of Owen.

“This is true,” the voice said spouting the nefarious truth. “Once I unite with the male, I will be powerful enough to emerge fully. After decades of dark cramped spaces, I will finally come to be.”

No. Leave me alone. Get out!

A low and ominous chuckle echoed through Owen’s head, into his muscles and bones, into the very seat of consciousness, which he was quickly losing. Metal groaned and cracked and his right arm was free. Owen felt his tongue lick around his lips, as the entity stared at Malcolm. Oh, God, was he going to eat the man? That would be fucking gross.

With no further influence over his body, Owen was relegated to a tiny corner in his mind. What had the voice said?  Decades of dark cramped spaces. Panic ensued with the thought of living his life at the whim of the entity. This wasn’t a matter of life or death. It was a matter of living as a prisoner in his own mind.

Owen’s body jumped off the gurney with surprising grace. As if checking out a new body, the entity stretched the arms, twisted the waist and rolled the head. He drew Owen’s mouth up in an evil grin and Owen heard his voice say, “Fits nice.”

Well, fucking great for the monster!

Malcolm slid along the wall and shoved himself into the corner, still yelling for someone to get his ass out of the room. If he didn’t get out, his ass was going to get Owen’s hard, dripping cock because the monster in his head was horny as hell.

“Your power will set me free,” Owen heard his voice growl as the entity started for Malcolm.

The door to the room flew open catching the monster’s attention. A large man stood in the door, an impressive gun raised against his shoulder and aimed straight at Owen. The man’s face was hidden behind the gun’s huge scope.

“Hunter!” the monster screeched.

A surge of anger and fear from the entity clouded Owen’s thoughts as his body lunged toward the man. A hard blow hit Owen’s shoulder and his body stumbled backward. The entity looked down and Owen saw a tranquillizer dart buried in his chest. Immediately, the icy cold sensation he’d felt as the first IV solution had filtered under his skin, reaching into his arms and torso then his legs. The burning heat that had come with the entity cooled and Owen’s muscles started shivering.

“No!” he heard his voice scream aloud. Then the entity’s voice was back in his head, bellowing about injustice and revenge as Owen expanded to reclaim control over his mind and body. The man slowly lowered the gun, and Owen gasped in surprise as he fell to his knees. He would have cried with elation if he could have.

Turk.

Owen forced out the words. “Turk, please help me,” he whispered as he collapsed onto his side, his coordination and equilibrium still lacking.

Turk stood frozen, mouth gaping, eyes glued in disbelief to Owen where he laid on the floor. Turk was shocked.

Turk had a gun.

 
Turk had shot him with a dart.

Turk dropped the massive dart gun to the floor and reached into the holster on his belt, pulling out a handgun. Despite the stony expression, Owen was sure Turk’s brown eyes were swimming with pain. Pointing the weapon at Owen, Turk said, “Don’t move.”

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