New Werewoman Handbook Pt. 19

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"Your attitude concerns me, Emily. I've tried to be patient with you, but all I get in return is insubordination." Heather began to speak her piece. "You continually undermine me in front of my pack, and I'm not going to stand for it much longer."

"Your pack?" Emily interrupted. "That's a laugh. All you've done is run around recruiting new sisters, and I'm always there to clean up your mess. Remind me, who was it that trained all of your so called pack sisters to accept their condition? Oh that's right, Becky and I took it upon ourselves. You just bite or bang, and hand them a book in the hopes that they'll figure it out on their own." Emily was audibly hostile.

The New Werewoman Handbook
Part 19

by Werewomaniac

Copyright © 2010 Werewomaniac

 
 

* * *

(Outside the club in the warehouse district, the evening of Monday, October 5th, 2009)

Emily and I strolled to the main entrance of the nightclub, ready for that month's pack meeting. Eric, the behemoth wereman bouncer awaited us at the entrance.

"You're late...again." He said in his James Earl Jones-like voice.

"You of all people should know how long it takes us women to get ready." Emily replied playfully.

Eric did not appear to be amused. He hated when others referred to his Erica side, and that was no big secret. Even Erin knew better, and she'd only been here once before. "Very funny, Em. I expected a smart ass answer like that from you." he said as the faux blond brushed past him. "Don't go picking up her bad habits." he warned in a more relaxed tone of voice directed at me.

Long ago, I promised myself that I'd never do anything to offend a man of his size. I wasn't about to break that promise now. "I won't, hun. By the way, you look very handsome tonight. Your biceps are really popping in that shirt you have on. It looks great on you" I smiled as I delivered the compliment. Eric was very proud of his bulging muscles, and was often spotted flexing them in the mirror at times when he thought nobody was watching.

The hard-faced brute visibly softened at my comment. Even through his dark, ebony complexion, I could tell he was blushing. "Come on in, Erin. You're looking pretty fine yourself this evening." he replied, gesturing for me to enter the club.

There were far less patrons in the place than there had been last month. I reminded myself that was because it was Monday evening, an off night for most clubs and bars. On the dance-floor, a handful of patrons swirled their bodies in time to the music. But the energy level was nowhere near last month's peak. Even Sam, the cute, male barkeep looked bored with the slim crop of available women in attendance tonight. I continued to scan the room for familiar faces and was surprised to see two that I faintly recognized. One male, the other female. It took me a moment to place them.

The woman I recognized from my trip to Victoria's Secret. Her name was Kelly, the friendly sales clerk that assisted me on my shopping binge the other weekend. And she seemed to be with the young man, Kevin Jones, whom I interviewed for an entry level position with my company last week. He was the interviewee that recognized me from the movie theater last month. They appeared to be celebrating a special occasion, I guessed it was the new job he'd landed. Come to think of it, his start date was today. I was absent from work, and so I wasn't there to see how he took to it.

My attention drifted off of them, I didn't even want to think about my work situation tonight. Taking Emily by the hand, I followed her into the VIP room where our pack meeting was in progress.


* * *

(Seconds earlier, at a cozy table for two)

"Hey Kel, check out that woman over there." Kevin said to his girlfriend.

"Kevin! What are you doing looking at other girls." Kelly had a touch of jealousy in her voice.

"Awe Kel, I'm not checking her out, I recognize her. Didn't we see her at the movies the other month?" Kevin asked.

"So?" Kelly had her hand on her hip. It was clear to Kevin that she was pissed.

"It's just, I think my new boss is dating her. He was the man that was with her in the theater." Kevin explained.

"Oh, well that's a good reason not to leer at her." Kelly eased up on her boyfriend. "Oh my God! I love this song. Lets go dance." she demanded, leading him by the hand towards the dance-floor. Kelly held her man a little closer than she normally did, even though her rational mind told her this strange woman was not a threat to her.

As the two of them grinded against one another to the thumping sound of the DJ's mix, Kevin couldn't help but smile to himself. His smoothness was a well documented personality trait for which he was most thankful.


* * *

Heather was interrupted by the door behind her swinging open. "Well, well. Glad you two saw fit to join us this evening." she said in a catty voice towards Emily and I. Her eyes traveled to our conjoined hands, and I saw her pupils shrink ever so slightly. I'd played enough poker in my day to know that was a sign of guarded disapproval.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweet-heart." Emily answered for both of us.

"It's sort of my fault." I found myself admitting. "I took forever getting ready tonight, I'm still really new to make-up and hairstyling." I explained. It sounded plausible, even though our running late had been intentional.

"No need to apologize, Erin. But we were just discussing Emily's pattern of tardiness as a group before you arrived." Heather's voice had a thinly veiled dose of venom in it. "It's becoming...how should I put this..."

"Problematic!" Vanessa blurted out, interrupting Heather's statement.

"Yes. Thank you for that Vanessa." Heather said. "Not only is it rude, but in my opinion it calls her commitment to the pack into question." She locked eyes with Emily. "Consider this a formal warning. In the future, disciplinary actions might be required."

"Do you promise?" asked Emily, still locked into her stare down with Heather. "It sounds so...kinky."

A chorus of laughter erupted in the wake of Emily's joke. The pixie-like redhead I recognized as Rita laughed first, but was soon joined by the others. But Vanessa and Heather were not amongst those laughing. Their faces soured in disapproval. If the conversation was a boxing match, the champion (Heather) had just unloaded her best uppercut. But instead of felling her challenger, the blow caused Emily to grow six inches in height. Heather looked weak in this battle of wits with Emily. She had no come back, and seemed to be flabbergasted by the nerve of her sister.

"You an I need to talk in private, right now." Heather demanded, breaking off her stare. "My office." she said, gesturing towards a small door at the back of the room.


* * *

Two women entered the tiny, cluttered space behind the door in the back of the VIP room.

"Nice office, I can tell you must be really important." Emily said sarcastically to Heather as they took their seats across from one another. Heather was seated in a comfortable, leather roller-chair behind a messy desk. Emily took her seat in the folding chair opposite her.

"Your attitude concerns me, Emily. I've tried to be patient with you, but all I get in return is insubordination." Heather began to speak her piece. "You continually undermine me in front of my pack, and I'm not going to stand for it much longer."

"Your pack?" Emily interrupted. "That's a laugh. All you've done is run around recruiting new sisters, and I'm always there to clean up your mess. Remind me, who was it that trained all of your so called pack sisters to accept their condition? Oh that's right, Becky and I took it upon ourselves. You just bite or bang, and hand them a book in the hopes that they'll figure it out on their own." Emily was audibly hostile.

"Pump your breaks, bitch." Heather said, her eyes squinting as she scowled. "Don't forget who you're speaking to."

"Oh, and who's that?" Emily asked sarcastically.

"A superior being, Emily. One with powers you can't even begin to imagine." Heather stood from her seat as she spoke. "Or have you forgotten?" Her frown contorted into a perverse grin. "Do you require another demonstration?"

Emily appeared to be taken aback. "That won't be necessary" she said softly. "I think it's time I left this pack, and I'm taking Erin with me."


* * *

(Flashback to many years ago, in Heather's living-room.)

Heather set a bundle of mail down on her coffee table. Atop the pile of bills and junk-mail sat a copy of Time Magazine. The cover featured a photo of Mikhail Gorbachev and a caption that read, 'A Man Without a Country' in large, white block letters. It was dated December 23, 1991.

Emily noted the caption, and how well it seemed to sum up her own situation. She'd strayed from her family to be a part of a new world. But this new life she'd been driven towards did not welcome her in. She existed between the two worlds, a full member of neither.

The events of the last couple years passed before her eyes in a flash...

Not long ago, she'd been a man named Emile with a loving wife named Barbara and two daughters, Sally and Jennifer. They had a comfortable life, his lucrative job as a stock broker at a reputable firm ensured that. But Emile kept a deep, dark secret from those closest to him, one that might negatively influence the opinions of the people who mattered most in his life. His darling family, his boss and co-workers, all would surely abandon him if they knew what he really was. Or so he thought back then.

Emile was a cross-dresser, a habit he had tried to quit and suppress on numerous occasions. But no matter how many times he denied himself feminine expression, the urge always seemed to come roaring back. When it hit, he behaved unusually around his wife and daughters, gaining a deserved reputation for having a short fuse. His colleagues at work complained how he seemed distracted too. In fact, Emile was very distracted, and he knew exactly why.

Eventually, the short tempered, unfocused man would be forced to succumb to his desire for feminine finery. He knew dressing up for a while was the only relief for the tension that he felt, and Emile absolutely hated that about himself. But hate it or not, it was a fact. What he dreaded most was the lies he told to his wife during these self proclaimed melt-downs. Saying he was going on a business trip for a weekend, he'd book a motel room in a neighboring town, careful to pay with a credit card he kept secret from his wife. Soon after check-in, he'd find himself wandering into the ladies department of a nearby store and making a purchase, again using the 'secret Visa.'

At first, he would simply take his treasures back to the motel and marvel at his reflection in the mirror. Sometimes it ended in masturbation, but regardless it always proved to be therapeutic for Emile. He was back to his old self after a relaxing couple of days 'en-femme.' At least for a while. He'd always trash the clothing he bought, swearing it was the last time anyhow. But he knew even then he was lying. The stolen moments he afforded himself were like a release valve on a boiler. Over a period of time, the pressure in the furnace would build, and he'd be right back at it.

Soon enough, dressing in private was no longer enough to sate Emile. He was desperate to go out and mingle with others like himself. So he started attending a club in a nearby city, a place called Queen Anne's Revenge. It was an old, well established night-club that had recently began to cater to a TG crowd. It had grown steadily in popularity since. That's where he met the woman who sat before him tonight, Heather. The two crossed paths there one fateful night, and Emile committed an act of marital infidelity with her. The only one he'd ever engaged in.

About a month later, Emile reaped the consequences of that night with Heather. A note and a book showed up at his office, brought to him by a private courier. The note was from a woman named Heather, warning him to read the book he'd just been given. The title of the tome in the manila envelope was, The New Werewoman Handbook. Emile thumbed through the text, noting that Heather had scribbled, "This is not a joke." on the inside cover.

Emile disregarded the book and the note, it all seemed so ridiculous. He ignored it until it could no longer be denied. The first time he changed into Emily, the transformation happened in front of his wife. He was honest with her about his night with Heather, tearfully providing all the details he remembered of that evening. For the better part of a year, the pair worked on salvaging their relationship. During that time, he was frequently contacted by the mysterious Heather, who seemed to be guilt ridden over what she had done to him. But every step he took into Heather's world seemed to draw him further away from his family.

Emile's relationship with Barbara began to deteriorate. Heather seemed to have some answers to offer about his new condition, and how to handle his marital problems too. It was Heather who suggested faking 'Emile's' death, and allowing his 'widow' to collect on his life insurance. Having lost the cushy job due to his stress filled new existence, he quickly agreed and set about making sure his wife and daughters were taken care of. Emile was spending more and more time as Emily now, and had even managed to force his change in daylight hours. 'Disappearing him' would be all too easy. And in hind-sight, it had worked perfectly.

But at a terrible cost, Emily had lost her family. And with that bridge irreparably burned, Heather seemed to grow increasingly abusive. Tonight, Emily and Heather had gathered for an outing at Queen Anne's Revenge. They were dancing with a new girl, Vanessa was her name, when Emily wandered off towards the bar for some refreshment. It was there that she encountered a strange old African-American woman sitting alone at a bar stool. The pleasant old coot began to speak to Emily in a thick, Jamaican accent.

"Woch dem maga dog, maga dog turn rone bite you." she said.

A strange thing to say for sure, but Emily understood somehow. The old biddy was warning her to beware the hand of charity, which could turn around and bite her. "Umm, thanks. I think I know what you mean." Emily smiled.

The wrinkled woman grinned back at her. "Wanti wanti cyan't get it, getti getti no want it." she said in a softening voice.

Once again, despite the thick accent and cryptic message, Emily found herself understanding. The have-not's covet what the haves take for granted. "So someone has been charitable to me, only because they want something from me?" she asked.

Emily's new friend nodded affirmative before speaking again. "Dread omen..." was all she heard her say. The elderly woman pointed in Emily's direction, almost through her. That's when Heather burst onto the scene, grabbing Emily's hand and spinning the girl around to face her.

"Emily, you stay away from that old witch, you hear?!" Heather demanded. "And as for you" she continued fixing her gaze on the elderly woman beside Em, "stay away from my sisters." The conversation ended, and Heather led Emily out the main entrance of the club.

As Emily was being lead away, she looked towards the woman Heather had called a witch. A single tear roll down her proud, wrinkled face.

Heather scolded Emily for daring to speak with this mysterious stranger, demanding to know the details of their conversation. Emily flatly refused, claiming it was none of her business. Heather had been bossy and intimidating towards her recently, and she was in no mood to cooperate with this interrogation. Heather only stopped yelling when she got her mail from the box in front of her row-home, where Emily was also currently living. If you could call it living, it felt more like servitude to Emily...

...Which is where she found herself now...

The second the bundle of mail hit the coffee table, the instant Emily's eye set upon the Time Magazine, the moment she compared herself to the nation-less Gorbachev, Heather reached out and struck her hard. Her fist made contact with the top of Emily's right eye, and a small cut opened up. The force of Heather's blow knocked Emily off of her feet, the blood from the fresh cut stung her eye. Her attacker straddled Emily's torso, and pinned her to the ground with astonishing strength. The pinned girl could not move.

Heather knew it too. With every sister she turned, she grew stronger and more beautiful. Making a new sister even added years to her already extended life-span. Heather had turned over a dozen girls, and Emily hadn't turned a soul. There was no comparison in strength here, and Heather had no problem asserting her dominance.

"I ought to kill you, you ungrateful little punk." Heather sneered. She was displaying a pair of razor-sharp fangs as she spoke. "After all I've done for you, you dare to keep secrets from me?!"

Emily began to tear up. "Go ahead. Do it." Emily presented her neck to Heather by craning her head upwards. "I've got nothing left anyway." she sobbed through the trickle of blood running down her face.

Heather began to soften, the expression of desperation and anger being replaced with one of pity. "I...I can't do it." she said, slowly and calmly dismounting her would be victim. Wearing a mopey look of defeat, she pouted off to her room. Heather never again assaulted Emily.

Still, Emily never forgot about the speed and strength that Heather had demonstrated that night. And as the years ticked past, she was certain that her maker was growing stronger yet.


* * *

( Back in the office of Heather's club, the night of October 5th, 2009.)

Emily appeared to be taken aback. "That won't be necessary" she said softly. "I think it's time I left this pack, and I'm taking Erin with me."

"Like hell you are." replied Heather. "You even try it and I'll gut you like I should have back in '91." she was hovering over Emily who was still seated.

"You can try, but I think you'll find it won't be quite as easy as it was back then." even Emily couldn't tell if she was bluffing as she spoke. She too had grown stronger over the years, but whether or not it would be enough to over-power Heather was a mystery to both women...
 

*          *          *

 
End of Part 19
 
 
To Be Continued...
 

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Comments

I hope Emily and Erinwill be

I hope Emily and Erin will be alright, I sort of feel sorry that Heather can't be a day walker without killing but there has to be another way, maybe a genetisist could replicate Erin's blood or something.

I'm looking fowward to the next chapter with baited breath.

Megumi :)

Yule

Bailey's Angel
The Godmother :p

The greatest problem

Or rather, the most offending part about the way Heath acts is - he (and no, I refuse to refer to this particular Werewoman in feminine) has chosen the easy way. Was it not stated (check chapter 8) that:
1)Most werewomen transform on nights of the full moon
2)Experienced ones can do so on nights not of the full moon
3)Daywalkers become these through a gradual process of constant pushing themselves into their female selves
4)According to Heather (so taken with a grain of salt) even experienced werewomen are unable to mantain their female selves during the day?

Frankly, I don't buy the last one. Has he even tried? Did Heath push oneself to become female at night, every night, from dusk till dawn, and desperately clinging to womanhood at sunrise - from the very beginning and well into present days? No.

Heather from the very beginning has deciged to go the path of deception - leaving the Alpha Copy of the book hidden from everyone sans Vanessa, turning at least two people aganist their will and while impairing their judgement severely, and ultimately plans to execute them for utterly selfish reasons. There is something to be said about the Heavenly JusticeTM - it is supposed to judge thought crimes (those contemplated but not carried out due to fear of retribution) the same as crimes actually commited. And Heath has already decided his path long before Emile and Aaron ever came into picture.

Faraway

On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

as the plot thickens

An interesting tale please continue, tho Kevin is starting to grate.

Leaving the pack

Hopefully - especially given the reaction to Emily's retort to Heather's threat of disciplinary action - they'll take a few more girls with them in the breakaway faction, which would make it more difficult for Heather to take action.

Heather is an arrogant, scheming, manipulative, "rhymes with 'itch'", to a lesser extent aided and abetted by her sibling. They deserve to be taken down a peg or two. And if someone from the breakaway group can get hold of the unedited manual, so much the better - it might possibly contain some useful defence mechanisms against powerful, autocratic pack 'leaders'.

 
 
--Ben


This space intentionally left blank.

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

More complications.

Will Emily and Erin survive this? The break is obviously one that holds a lot of rancor on both sides. There is more to this story than has been shown so far and I'm looking forward to seeing more.

New Werewoman Handbook Pt. 19

Seems as if there is an ALPHA FEMALE battle to be fought. Will be fun to see who wins.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine