Behemoth

Behemoth

by Carl

The sun shone brightly over Port Angeles High School's football feild. The team was warming up in various ways, waiting for the coach to arrive. There were fellows throwing and catching, hitting the practice sleds, or otherwise hobnobbing with each other, all except for one. One young man whom was quite smaller than the other players, with black hair and green eyes stood just at the exit from the bleachers, his helmet under one arm and a small notepad in his hand. With his other hand he revealed a mechanical pencil which he clicked a few times. On the notepad were sketches of various human figures. Some were larger built, some were smaller, others were entirely disproportionate. "No no, that's no good." The young man said as he tore out another page and crumpled it up. He began to sketch again on the next page. Suddenly something zipped by his head. He glanced up in surprise. After a second his head was jolted back as his body was forced into the air by the shoulder of a large line-back. He hit the ground and skid on his stomache.
"Wake up Ridge." The tackler cackled as he pat the young man's head and stood up. Nickolas Ridge grumbled to himself as he began to push himself off the ground. He was absolutely covered in grass stains, and practice had not even started. Just then, a loud whistle blew. "Ridge, up off the ground! Let's go!" The coach called out. Nick began to stand when something caught his eye. He looked at the ground near where he had fallen and he saw a small peice of metal, about the size of a chess peice. On closer inspection it appeared to shaped like something. Some sort of large breature with pointed ears, tusks, a mane, and a long tail coiled around a stone it appeared to be sitting on. "Ridge! Over here!" The coach called out again. Nick grabbed up the statuette and dropped it down his jersey with his notepad. He quickly trotted over to where the team had grouped up. "Thank you for finally joining us Ridge!" The coach snapped.
"Sorry coach." Nick apologized.
"Our performance in the last game was utterly horrible." The coach stated bluntly, entirely ignoring the apology. "Therefore, everyone line up!" With that command, the entire team sprang into action and lined up as if in a game. Poor Nickolas Ridge just happened to be one of the lucky men in the front line. Across from him, he heard quiet chuckling. He looked up and met eyes with the guy who'd tackled him earlier. While reliving the jolting moment in his head, he almost missed the sound of the quarterback's voice calling out "Hike!" BLAM! Now Nick was staring up at the clouds going by for some reason. A hand appeared, Nick grabbed it and it hoisted him to his feet. It was the coach's hand. "Look alive Ridge!" He barked. "Line up!" Once again the team lined up in the same position as before, and once again Nick heard the other's chuckling. He looked at him laughing. He started to get mad. He was the smallest guy on the team, and most definitely the worst player, but he wasn't gonna let this guy take him down again.
"Hike!" the quarterback called out. Nick felt something strange, for a moment everything appeared to be in a blueish haze. Then he felt his legs tighten, and coil, and they seemed to fill with something almost to the point of bursting. Then he shot forward like a bullet and slammed into the other player like a one hundred and forty pound meteor. Needless to say, the other player was knocked right the f--- out of his cleets! The haze seemed to clear and Nick heard groaning. He looked down and there was the guy whom he'd tackled to the ground. Nick stood up off the young man. Strangley, he felt lighter, it was like his body was charged with some kind of energy. It felt good. "Alright Ridge! Where was that at gametime!" The coach's voice came through. "That's what I like to see! Now, everyone! Squad lines!" With that second command, the whole team lined up in a grid pattern. Nick helped up the guy he'd knocked down and ran to his spot in the grid. "Diamond push-ups! Sixty, go!" The coach barked. Immediately proceeding the command came a series of groans as the players placed their hands on the grass forming a diamond with their fingers and began to do push-ups. Nick assumed the position, still feeling remarkably light. He began his set. His push-ups were coming so rapidly. Pretty soon he had finished fifteen, then thirty-five, then fifty, then sixty. He stopped. What should he do now? He'd never finished first before. He sat down and looked at the coach. "Ridge! What are you doing?" The coach called out.
"I- I'm done." Nick answered.
"Bolsheviks!" The coach challenged. "Do sixty more." Nick reassumed the diamond push-up position and started another set. This time, it almost seemed a little easier. He sat down again and the coach looked at him stunned. At this point the rest of the team had begun to finish up. As the last person completed their set, the coach snapped back into his commanding tone. "O-okay! Line up in the endzone!" The team got up and ran to the nearest endzone and lined up on the line. The coach dived up the line evenly and had one  group face the other on either side of the endzone line. He then handed out footballs the players inside the line. "OK! Throwers, you're going to throw deep, catchers, you're going to go long, go!" He called out.
Nick stood on the outside of the line. His partner wound up and hurled his football in a perfect spiral even before Nick had started to run. Nick frantically began chasing after the flying projectile. There was no way he could catch up and catch it. All of a sudden though, he no longer saw the ball in the air above him. He stopped and turned around confused. Suddenly, the football came into perfect view as it smacked him in the face and bounced off. A laughter arose from the other players as Nick chased down the ball and picked it up. His face was red more from embarrasment than pain as he ran back to the endzone. He switched places with his partner and wound up to throw. His partner began to run. Nick hauled off and shot the ball forward as if out of a cannon. It sailed through the air, over his partner, over the goal post and out of the field entirely. Everyone stared, mouths agape, at Nick.
The practice continued on with more odd events for Nick until finally it was time to hit the showers. Nick sheepishly stepped into the locker room with his helmet under his arm. He made his way to his locker and twisted in his combination. It popped open and he began to shed his gear. Off came his jersey, followed by his shoulder pads. His notepad flopped onto the floor and he bent over to pick it up when something crossed his mind. Where is that thing I found earlier when I got tackled? He thought. It was nowhere on his person, he must have dropped it sometime during practice. Maybe during the push-ups, or running for that catch, or hitting the sleds, or... He shook his head out, but he couldn't shake that charged feeling he still had. He shrugged and continued with removing his undershirt. After removing said shirt he noticed something about his chest. There was a large brown mark on his left pectoral, about the size of a chess peice. It must be from that thing I found, he thought, it probably bruised me when I got hit at the beginning of practice. As he looked at his chest, he noticed something else, he seemed kind of... Bigger. It was true, his pecs, abdominals, lats, traps, in fact every muscle he could see seemed slightly more pronounced. He chuckled a second, and then flexed at himself. He chuckled again. "Woah," he heard a voice say. Then he felt a tiny sting on his back. "Where'd this come from man?" he turned around and saw one of his teammates holding something tiny in his fingers. Nick looked at it and realized it was a hair. He had pulled a short bristley black hair out of what he thought was his hairless back. Nick glanced over his shoulder and to his amazement, many such hairs were there. What's this, some kind of late blooming? Then, his eyes went wide as he peered back harder and saw that more of the hairs were sprouting every second. He quickly pulled his shirt back on, but it felt slightly tighter for some reason. He reached nto his locker, grabbed his gear and then bolted out the door before his teammate could even ask, "What's up?"
Nick's hypercharged legs carried him faster and faster up and down the alleyway to his house. All of a sudden, it felt as though his entire body had cramped up and he stopped his motion. He managed to drag himself behind a dumpster as the pain pulsed through every muscle in his body and his heart pounded like a sledge hammer. His arms from the elbow down ached terribly for some reason. He forced his eyes open and watched painfully as his forearms extended and thickened to about a third longer than they previously were. Then his hands seemed to continue the stretch as his palms grew longer. He started to scream as an overwhelming pain entered his legs, but the sound did not come. Instead he felt some sort of garbling sensation in his throat. He glanced at his legs and watched as his ankle moved up on his calf and he felt his feet begin to extend inside of his shoes. All the while an underlyin itchiness had been building up. As his shirt began to raise up due to his swelling upper body, he could see fine gray hairs sprouting all over his mid-section. It was growing on his legs, and on his arms it appeared as well. He then felt a great pressure on his face, and once again the scream died in his throat. His mouth and nose had begun to push out from his face as his ears moved up the sides of his head. The gray hair covered his face as his nose and mouth formed a muzzle, he felt a grinding in his teeth and soon enough the two canines in the front on his bottom row had grown out about eight inches and come into view over his snout. His ears grew large and pointed, and the black hair on his head spread down the sides of his face, his neck and down to the middle of his back. HIs neck stretched and lengthened, and he choked for a moment. All the while the gray fur coated his body and the muscles beneath swelled greatly. Finally, his shirt gave way to his swollen body. His torso was positively rippling with power, and his arms looked as though he could tear an SUV in half. He continued to stare at his hands in shock. His fingernails hardened and formed curved claws, and the skin on his palms grew rough and turned black, transforming into pads. A series of pops met his ears and he looked down to find that his shoes had come off, revealing digitigrade legs with large dog-like feet with similar claws and pads as his hands. His eyes shut from a new pain now, coming from his rear, he felt around and could feel a lumb just above his bottom. The lump grew and elongated, it ripped out the back of his shorts. He felt it more as it grew to about the length of his body, it was an enormous and powerful tail. Nick opened his eyes now and started to look at himself fully. The pain still had not altogether subsided, and his throat still produced no sound. His heart continued to pound within his mammoth chest. The pain began to build again, he cringed, and suddenly from his throat came a low rumble that grew and mounted into a mighty roaring that caused the glass of windows nearby to rattle. His body exploded in one last burst of growth. His shorts burst from his waist and he arched to greater heights, finally ending at about three meters even.
Nick lay there propping himself up on his massived forearms, panting heavily. Was any of this real? Was he alive? What is he? How did he become this way? All these questions he asked himself. He stood, he shook unsteadily on his new legs, then figured out to lean forward and use his tail to balance. His tail, he had a tail. He groaned in a deep rumbling tone. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?!" He called out loud, but no answer came.