Vincent’s eye scanned the room. Swishing his tail and flicking his ears, he turned and spun in a circle. The movement was so swift that he almost tripped over himself as he wasn’t used to being in control of this beastly form that was all strength and muscle and bulk. A combined agility and strength that made it hard to keep balance and control. Each movement was like stepping on the gas of a race car without worrying what would happen when pushing petal to the floor and tearing rubber wheel onto road.

“Now that you have control, you need to transform back to your human form,” Mr. B said. “Think about how you look in the mirror, how it feels to be you. Grasp your humanity, your human side and mind and skin and hair and smell, and pull it back. Imagine it with all your heart, and push it. It will feel like you are swimming up the rush of a river, like walking against a mighty gust of wind pushing you backward or lifting weight that is just too heavy for you to handle. When it hits you, maintain it. Push with all you have, focus and be intent on the vision, on your humanity, and grab it by its neck and pull it forth. Will yourself back to life, and you’ll have it. You’ll know you have it when it feels akin to pulling something buried in the dirt. It will be effortful. but if you maintain it and keep pulling, you will eventually break free from the proverbial dirt, and like a potato you will be fresh and ready.”

Vincent nodded, thinking about what Mr. B had said as he looked forward at nothing in particular, focusing on his mind. The mind that was in control. His human, conscious mind.

And it happened, piece by piece, still painful but very much less painful than the transformation into the werewolf. He groaned and grunted as he stumbled forward, his body slowly losing hair, becoming smaller, shorter, less muscly. Cracking and jerking and popping back into shape and size. Then he was standing a few feet from where he had been. Sweaty and disoriented, but fully cognizant of what had just happened.

Fully willful, totally conscious, and clear as a cloudless, summer day.

He blinked, feeling lightheaded and shivering with a combination of cold and hot. He looked down at his body, lifting his arms and moving his hands and fingers about, glancing down at his legs. He was back to himself, back to his human form, and he was the one who had done it. He looked up and blinked, feeling completely baffled by what had happened.

“Okay, Vincent,” Mr. B said, licking his lips as if nervous. “Now, what you need to do is transform back to the werewolf form on your own. This step is crucial.”

Vincent teetered on the spot, feeling his vision blur. He shook it off as he listened to Mr. B.

“All right,” he said in a weak voice, pushing himself off from the wall, staggering on the spot as he wiped the back of his forearm across his wet forehead. “What I do?”

“Clueless idiot,” Alacard said in the other room.

He should have been silent. Shouldn’t have made a joke. But he couldn’t help himself because the fact of the matter was that Vincent had outdone him this time, and that made him furious. It was woefully maddening that he was being bested like this. And not just by any being, but by a freaking chump of a newbie.

He clenched his fist and jaw, holding back a growl because he knew calling Vincent a clueless idiot was stupid. The envy burned deep inside of Alacard as he looked onward, part of him hoping Vincent would fail, feeling a bit ashamed of that but not letting it show.

Mr. B spoke into the microphone again, adjusting it near his mouth as if not doing that may make it harder for Vincent to hear. “You’ll need to let the beast out again. Let your animal side go wild. Think about running free in the forest, of hunting, of drawing blood. Of all the animalistic, dangerous, and devious things you can think of. Let that monster free, and as soon as you transform, grab it back, reel it in and take full command, and control over it. And then, transform back to your human form just like you did now, and you will have mastered the Transformation at Will.

Vincent licked his lips and nodded, giving a jittery, “okay, okay…”

He had this, right? He really didn’t.

He felt his mind muddle. His body waver on the spot. He felt like passing out, too weak to stand. He nodded, clenched a shaky fist, and let out a determined breath. He wasn’t going to give in now and certainly wasn’t going to give up. He had no other choice at this point. And truth be told, he had a willingness to literally die for this, so he put the thoughts churning into motion, thinking about things, animalistic things, and Alicia came to mind.

Confronting her, fighting her, and their potential date. Thoughts of her in a bikini, or a bra, or naked in a steamy shower.

That really kicked his animal fury into gear in a way he didn’t intend. Came bursting to the surface as he thought about other things. Facing down Alacard, and knocking him on the floor. Stepping on his chest and ripping his neck out. Devouring his flesh in a mighty movement of pleasurable delight. Those thoughts made him lean back and bellow out a mighty howl as he transformed in a quick, smooth, and easy motion.

The pain was still there. Terrible pain. Cracking and crunching and breaking apart. And reforming. Still, it was a little less.

He ground his teeth and let out a snarl and growl. His animalistic nature, and thoughts, pushed the pain away.

And then he was in his werewolf form, ready to unleash. The Beast Mind at the forefront. Growling for him to unleash, to let loose, to break through this petty cage of concrete and metal. To burst through the door he came in through. To fight Mr. B, if he had to, easily beating him. Then moving on Alacard, defeating him as well. Ripping him apart and devouring his flesh and blood. He’d make his way down the corridor, up the stairs, burst out the door, and bound through the grass. He’d used his heightened sense of smell and sight and hearing to locate Alicia. To find her in a vulnerable moment. To face her, challenge her, defeat her, pin her down and. He felt himself growl as he stepped backward, the Beast Mind trying to take control. Wanting to let it, feeling how easy it would be, how glorious and pleasurable to just let it happen. To engage in it, all of it. Especially with Alicia. Oh, Ginga, the passionate pleasure it would be to take her in various ways. To lick her skin and take in her scent and body and –

“NO!” Vincent snarled in defiance, his own voice coming through in a guttural, animal-choking bellow. “I am the master. I am the one in control. Not you. So, behave, and do as you’re told.”

And it all came back to him, like a cold rush of a waterfall. Hitting his consciousness. His thoughts, his clarity. And he looked upward, senses at his command, ears alert and taking in noise he never took in before. The small movements of the camera. A slight breeze coming from the slits that let in the manufactured moonlight. The soft hum of the computer from the other room. Mr. B’s and Alacard’s breathing.

“Whoa,” he said, flexing one of his arms and hand into a fist.

He felt the power in that movement, saw the details of the flexing, toned, muscly veins of his arms. His bulging biceps and strong forearm. A feeling, an inner sense and knowing that he could lift a car on his own. Claw through the trunk of a tree. Maybe even break through this concrete and metal wall and destroy Alacard in his human form.

“This is so cool.” He let out a childish chuckle, as if noticing something that was awesome and intriguing and amazing all at once. It was totally out of this world. It was so supernatural.

“Fuck yeah,” he couldn’t help but blurt out.

He wanted to break free. To be let out. To run wild through the forest. To climb the surrounding mountains. To leap into the sky. To show everyone what he was capable of. Then he remembered that he had to transform back on his own, one last time. He had done it before, so he could do it again.

“Now,” Mr. B said, his voice slow and intent, sounding a bit anxious at this final instruction. “Just transform back to your human side one last time, and you’ll have it, son.”

Vincent nodded, reflexively licking his lips. The sensation feeling weird as his tongue was longer and larger, lapping along his teeth and long snout at a weird angle. While there was also a familiarity to it, it was still strange and would take a lot of getting used to. “Okay. Here goes.”

He rubbed his huge hands and long fingers together, the movement a bit disjointed as his claws scraped against one another. One of his hands slipped, slicing along his arm, and he winced.

“Ow!” He peered down at the wound and sucked in air.

It was weird seeing blood flow and move to thickness as it clumped and began to clot quicker than in his human form. He suddenly knew that it would heal after a night’s rest, and that uplifted him.

He moved his neck about. Hopping light on his feet. Getting himself ready to transform back. He flexed his legs, bending them slightly, and concentrated on the human side. His side. Just like he had before. And just like that, minus the movements of pain from transforming back, he was back to his human form.

Sweaty, hungry, feeling like he was going to pass out, and unable to stand. He fell to his knees in a grunting motion that hurt as he hit the ground.

He was human again.

He looked up, gave a weak smile and thumbs-up, and said with a dry throat, that came out in a low gasp, “I did it.”

Then he fell over and passed out.

.           .           .