JamieHawke
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Myth Protector - Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2018-09-21 17:34:58 +0000 UTCChapter 2
The elevator was closed, so I opted for the stairway. Halfway there I realized I could probably take this chick, but what was I going to do, fight some lady in the hotel? Fuck that. If I could just shake her off, go back and find Chris or just wait out the night in my hotel room, none of this would be that big of a deal. No statements or police, no being accused of attacking her or whatever else might happen.
I was halfway down the stairs when she came crashing out, the door slamming back into the wall before swinging shut again with a loud thud. She leaped after me, taking me down the rest of the stairs to the floor below. Struggling to try and throw her off, I suddenly remembered the other reason to run—in the bathtub, she’d been freakishly strong.
“Whatever you think I did,” I said, my hand pushing up on her chin as she pinned me to the floor, “it wasn’t me!”
“You’re exactly who I’m looking for,” she growled, and for a moment she paused, staring at me. Then I noticed why her eyes had looked so crazy earlier. Wolf eyes. Teeth too… and damn, she’d done a great job with them. Everyone did a great job with their costumes at these things though, so it wasn’t that out of the ordinary. Combined with her strength and the fact that she’d just tackled me down a stairway, though, this whole picture was giving me a panic attack and, for some annoying reason, a fucking boner.
Oh, shit, that’s why she’d stopped. It had slipped back out, as I was wearing boxers and never got my zipper up. She moved, her fur coat over my legs, her ass—leather-clad, I could now see and feel against my cock—pressing against it.
For a brief second, her eyes actually changed to normal brown eyes, and her hand moved back and felt me, as if to make sure this was real. Her eyes went wide, eyebrows arched, and she said, “Wh—what’re you doing to me?”
“Me?” I asked, spasming slightly at her touch. Oddly, she didn’t let go, but held it tighter, as if releasing it would cause her to slide back into madness.
She bit her lip, brow furrowing now in concentration and concern, and then she released me to take my face in her hands and move in for a kiss.
I didn’t know what the fuck was happening. A prostitute scenario set up by Chris? Some woman who thought I was someone else and into this wackiness? Well, maybe I was. And hell, her hand on my cock had been the most action the little guy had seen in a while, and now that her eyes weren’t crazy… I went with it.
Her lips pressed firmly against mine as if testing me. She nibbled slightly then pulled back, eyes right in front of mine to the point that I could barely get them into focus, and then she was at it again, kissing me and reaching back to stroke me.
I was about to protest, or at least tell her we should go back to her room—hers, because no way was I taking someone this unstable to mine—when the door above clanged open again and Chris and three others ran out, shouting for me. The change in this woman was instant. Where I’d felt her kiss and soft hand just a minute ago, now there were nails digging into me like claws. I screamed, only to find I should’ve done anything I could to beat her off instead, because then she bit me! Fucking bit me, those sharp teeth sinking right into my shoulder, tearing as she growled and—
BAM! Someone knocked her off me. I saw Chris, then Batgirl staring at me in horror before taking her cape and throwing it over my exposed cock while another man came down after Chris to try and restrain the crazy lady.
“This is so—shit—so fucked up!” Batgirl kept saying while the guy, who I glanced over to see was dressed as a modern take on Robin Hood, I guessed, was telling the crazy lady to stop resisting, that he was going to call the cops.
But then both he and Chris were shoved back, knocking Batgirl onto me so that she hit my dick with her back and she shouted in pain at the same time I did, me worrying it might be broken or bent, and now Crazy Lady was gone, pounding down the stairs.
“Fuck, FUCK!” I said, grasping my shoulder where Crazy Lady had bit me, and Batgirl was on her knees, hands to her face asking if I was okay. Meanwhile Robin Hood pulled out his phone and dialed the cops.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Batgirl said, and she pulled her cape up to check on me—I guess not really thinking that the wound she was checking was my still-exposed boner, and then she frowned, confused, and moved my hands from my shoulder. “The fuck… Is this a sick joke? Some weird thing you do? Henry, put the phone away.”
Robin Hood frowned, apparently on hold anyway. “But…?”
“Put the phone away. This guy isn’t hurt, fucking prick.” She stood, stomping up the stairs, but paused to spit—the spit landing right on my dick. As humorous as that would’ve been at some weird times, right now it was enough to cause me to look down at my shoulder to see that there were no claw marks, no blood.
As Robin Hood—or Henry—followed her, he gave me a curious look, glanced down the stairwell, and said, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I looked at my shoulder now, confused. Nothing. A tear in my clothes, but no teeth marks, and no blood.
“Henry!” Batgirl called out, now through the door.
“Yeah… I guess I am,” I said, bewildered, and handed the cape to him.
He held his hands up, quickly ascending the stairs. “You keep it.”
I used it to wipe the spit off of me, then concealed myself and pushed up to a sitting position. The last thing I wanted was to be there if the crazy lady returned, but considering what had just happened… I was starting to wonder if it was me who was crazy.
Trying to put all of this behind me, I stood, went another floor down, and stepped into the hallway. The lights were almost blinding and my ears were ringing. I staggered forward. Had the chick drugged me?
I made it to the elevator, checked my phone to see that Chris had texted, telling me she got away and saying he’d see me back at the party. He wanted to hear all about what had just happened.
The elevator dinged. I stepped in alone and wavered, hand on the button. Someone was running, and they came into the edge of my sight. Not wanting to move my head or anything really, I lingered with my hand on the elevator button, but whoever it was stopped, facing me from the hall, then walked away.
That had me curious, at least, so I leaned against the elevator wall and looked out, only catching sight of black clothes and black hair. Odd that they’d turned like that, I thought as I let the doors close and headed back to my room, so not in a party mood. My only guess was that the person had been the sleep study woman from earlier, but why turn like that at the sight of me? Maybe I’d come off as too big of a creep, checking out women so blatantly. Who was I kidding? I had been a creep, and maybe this was my karma.
No more, not tonight.
I made it through my door and kicked off my shoes, texting Chris that I was going to take it easy, be ready for the next day… and collapsed onto my bed. Everything was sore. My mind was full of confusion at the quick flashes of bliss, at the woman stroking my cock and kissing me, then attacking me. Attacking me, it would seem, in a way that left no evidence but for a tear in my shirt. Surely I hadn’t drunk enough to be this fucked up, but the room felt like it was spinning. I closed my eyes, trying to sleep, and then she was in my mind again, those sharp teeth gnashing, her eyes fluctuating between wolf and normal.
At one point I started to drift off into sleep, but then there was a dream, well a nightmare really. This time both her hands were wrapped around my cock, claws digging in, and I was screaming.
My eyes shot open and I woke up in a cold sweat, and had to check downstairs to be sure everything was healthy. Looking good, but my prospects for sleep weren’t.
I rolled over, pulled my wallet from my pants, and then the sleep study card. Staring at it, I thought that maybe I’d give it a try. Was it too late? Rolling onto my side hurt, but I found my cell and checked. Damn, it was pretty early, actually.
“Hello,” a woman’s voice answered, and it had a bit of that rough, snarky edge to it that I couldn’t be sure, but thought sounded familiar.
“About the sleep study,” I started. “When can I sign up? Will it help me sleep if I’m having nightmares?”
“What kind of nightmares?”
“I’d… rather not say.”
A silence followed, and then the voice said, “Come by the booth tomorrow at eleven a.m. I’ll be there,” and then the line went dead.
That was… weird. I was starting to have doubts, but knew there was no way I’d survive the day tomorrow if I didn’t try something. A nice nap might be just the trick. Also, I couldn’t forget that sword—and the more I thought of it, the heavier my eyelids got, so that soon I was drifting off to sleep again.
