My name is Anson Porter Parkness III. I've been a professor at a fairly decent community college for the last fifteen years after working my way up from the lowly level of being an undergrad teaching assistant to the most bigoted, egotistical piece of sh*t I've ever known.
Thankfully, Prof. Jameson was nice enough to retire the year before I got my masters degrees in Education and Modern & Medieval History.
It took another two years after my dual masters degrees before I was given status as a professor there. To be blunt, it was a lot of hard work, studying half the night after returning from classes, plus grading the classes where I was doing my teacher's assistant work.
I persevered, though, largely because I was a loner, I had been for years. What makes it odd is that I was a "name" in high school, a big, brawny football player with the best yardage three of my four high school years, plus I was on student council as a junior and senior. Even with my being involved in school activities, though, I never got close to anyone, I just couldn't relate to people on more than a very basic level.
My school years were focused on studying, I avoided the partying that some kids thought was the be all and end all of university life.
I'm 42 years old now, divorced several years ago after my wife ran off with a wandering salesman, leaving me to raise a young girl alone. My daughter Susannah, who is 17, is a bit wild, she's taken care of herself for the last five or six years because of how busy I have been.
That was my life until the weirdest thing happened to me seven weeks ago, on the first night of the harvest full moon.
So... seven weeks ago, a full moon night when I went out for a leisurely stroll in the woods a half mile behind the house.
The woods were dim, not truly dark as there was some light filtering in from the sun as it made its way toward the horizon. The paths were visible, partly due to the light from the sun but also because of the layers of bright and colourful leaves scattered on the forest floor.
I'd been walking in the woods for about twenty minutes when I heard a noise, it sounded like someone was nearby.
I stopped walking and listened to see where the noises were originating for a moment, then shrugged and continued walking.
A minute or two later, after hearing the sounds a few more times, I was startled when the person/creature leapt out in front of me. They growled something I couldn't understand, although I did notice the voice was in a rather nice feminine pitch, then moved to block my path.
I tried to edge into the trees by the path to go around whoever it was, but they blocked me again, then leapt on me and bit my shoulder. I was startled for a moment, I actually ended up stumbling into a tree behind me before I threw the creature off me, then punched it in the head.
Just like that, it was over, the person or creature or whatever it was dropped like a stone. I checked for a pulse, found one, strong and steady. I could see what appeared to be the beginnings of a goose egg just about the hairline, they seemed to be fine otherwise.
I shrugged, turned and walked at a faster pace back to the house, where I examined the bite mark on my shoulder. The creature had apparently been trying to get to my neck, either I had stumbled a bit or it had slipped and thus the bite missed its intended mark, or so I assumed.
I spent several minutes treating the bite wound with various ointments, then thought about going to the hospital in town.
Well, I had been thinking about that, but that ended when I looked at the bite as I finished cleaning it and saw the bite mark fading. Within ten minutes, there was no sign of the bite at all, no aches or pains. In fact, I felt better than I had since I was twenty years old, a long time ago.
To say this was weird would be an understatement of a rather serious magnitude. I wandered into the back office, poured a shot of my favourite whisky, a nicely aged Glenlivet, tossed that first shot down like a pro and poured another before I sat down in the old, worn easy chair.
I looked up briefly at the framed copies of the diplomas for both masters degrees, each one displaying my name, Anson Porter Parkness III.
Sighing, I put the bottle on the small table beside the chair and sipped at the second shot, thinking about what had happened.
I sat there for the next three hours thinking about it, drinking that whisky shot by shot, but I couldn't even get mildly buzzed.
Eventually, I gave up on the pondering and headed to the kitchen, where I spotted Susannah making shepherd's pie for our dinner.
I chatted with her for a few minutes, then wandered into the living room to catch the early news.
Dinner was pretty good, I was quiet, still thinking about that bite while Susannah prattled on about school and cheerleading.
After dinner, I headed back into the living room and looked through the DVDs before picking out Armageddon.
I relaxed in my recliner, Susannah plopped herself down on the old leather sofa and we relaxed and enjoyed the movie.
Yeah, the moon had been up in the daytime, it sometimes is, nothing new about that.
I eventually wandered off to my bedroom, where I had another shot or two while relaxing before I decided it was time to sleep.
Interestingly for me, that was a completely dreamless night. That's quite rare, I usually dream once or twice a night.
I woke up at 6:15 AM the next morning, the sun was shining in through my east side window. I've always liked the early morning light.
Like the night before, I still felt amazing in a physical sense, I can't even recall feeling that fit when I was in my teens and early twenties.
I shrugged it off, had a quick shower including cleaning my hair, then dried off and dressed in a pair of jeans and an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt.
I'd bought this house when I was twenty-four after winning half a million in some scratch card ticket. The house is a four bedroom colonial, with a huge living room that has a sunken area in the center, that's where the couch, a love seat and two recliners face the 50" flat screen TV.
There are two office spaces in the house, a mudroom at the back, the kitchen is amazing, twenty feet on a side with superb cupboards or polished and etched red oak, a huge stove with a double oven, fridge, chest freezer, walk-in pantry and a matching red oak island in the middle.
Whoever had this house built loved red oak, each bedroom had a large wardrobe plus a five foot wide twelve drawer dresser, both red oak.
When I found the house, it had been up for sale for over three years. I managed to get it for $200k plus the back taxes. It was a steal.
There were a few other rooms, a parlour, a billiard room, a laundry area and a small room I had soundproofed after I bought the house. The reason for the soundproofing is that this last room was where several music instruments were kept, I'd play one of them now and then.
I was in a bit of an odd mood as I wandered through the house that morning. I was slightly hungry, enough that I figured I should eat before I did anything, so I spent several minutes making some bacon, eggs and a couple of waffles, then scarfed the food down in what seemed like seconds. The waffles would normally have helped to fill my belly, but today I wanted more meat, so several more slices of bacon and half a dozen breakfast sausages were soon on my plate. They disappeared as fast as the earlier serving, that craving for meat settled down.
Once I had finished with the food, I washed the frying pan and wiped the waffle maker, then headed to the music room.
I opened the door and walked in, taking a moment to look at the instrument that were kept in this seldom used room.
A piano stood in the corner farthest from the door, a restored Steinway baby grand I had bought for $35k at an auction fifteen years ago.
After I'd won that lottery, I had invested most of what was left and had watched as my not quite $300k turned into over five million in just under three years. That piano had been the first major purchase I made since I had bought the house itself.
Over the years since that time, I had also bought a Fender Concert acoustic guitar, a Gibson Les Paul electric guitar, and a Gretsch five piece Renown drum set that some fool had decided they no longer needed. I picked it up in a flea market for just $150. Another steal, oh, yeah!
The drum set sits in the other back corner of the room, with a comfortable adjustable seat positioned for maximum effectiveness.
The two guitars have their own stands, located in the central part of the room, separated from each other by several feet.
I moved the padded wooden bench seat from its spot by the Les Paul over to the Fender's stand and picked up the acoustic. It only took a moment to settle the strap around my shoulder and grab a pick from a small bowl on an end table near the guitar stand.
I spent a few minutes tuning the guitar, then lost myself in playing classic rock music from the 60s, 70s and 80s.
There are times when playing music like that helps me to find a sense of equilibrium, this was one of those times.
As I said, I lost myself in the music, flowing from one song to another, from one band to another, for several hours.
Then I found out just how fickle life can be, as everything I knew was flipped end over end in a brief moment.
I was sitting on that stool, strumming the starting bars of Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock And Roll" when I noticed hair tickling my neck.
That startled me enough that I came very close to dropping the guitar. I didn't though, and carefully set it in its stand.
Then I saw something else that shocked me to my core, my skin was changing colour, the cocoa brown slowly fading to pinkish white.
Yeah, I'm a black man, I hadn't told you that yet, had I? My skin colour had made things a bit harder for me, but as I said, I persevered.
I watched the whole process of my skin colour changing, feeling that hair as it continued to grow longer, eventually reaching my new waist.
Oh, boy, now came another level of shock as I saw my chest slowly inflating, from flat to a nice, full C cup in about a five minute span. I could see down to my waist and lap at the beginning, but that didn't last very long, yet I could feel my body reshaping itself. Damn, it felt weird.
Eventually, the changes seemed to end, I stood up and tried to walk, only to trip over the ends of my jeans. I narrowly avoided falling down.
I shook my head, that damn hair whisked across my face, then settled again. I carefully made my way to the door and out of the room. There was a washroom not far down the same hallway, I entered and walked slowly to the mirror over the white and grey marble sink.
Looking in the mirror brought that sense of shock to a whole new level, I found it hard to believe what the mirror was showing me.
The image I could see was that of a young white girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, long auburn hair tending to curls, bright green wide set eyes, small, pert nose, rounded chin, high cheeks and a wide, full-lipped mouth in an oval shaped face that glowed with youthful vitality.
Seeing that image in the mirror was just too much to handle, I fainted, crashing into the sink, then the toilet as I fell to the floor.
The noise was enough to bring Susannah to find out what had happened. I imagine it was quite a shock for her to see a pretty white girl there.
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