Primal

The bathroom was small, cramped, and lit by a single flickering bulb that cast long, jagged shadows on the cracked tiles. Jack stood there, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. He looked down, his eyes drawn to his penis, hard and erect, a silent mockery of his failure. The rage came fast and hot, a wildfire in his veins. "I did it again!" he hissed, his voice a low, guttural snarl. "I'm fucking stupid!" The words echoed in the tiny room, bouncing off the walls like a curse.

His fists clenched, the knuckles white as bone, and before he could think, he drove one into the cement wall. The impact sent a shockwave up his arm, but he didn't stop. Again. Again. Again. Each punch landed with a dull, meaty thud, the sound of flesh meeting unyielding stone. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision blurring with a mix of fury and shame. The pain in his hand was distant, almost irrelevant, drowned out by the storm raging inside him.

And then—*crack*.

The sound was sharp, like a gunshot in the silence. Jack froze, his fist still pressed against the wall. A spiderweb of cracks radiated outward from where his knuckles had struck, spreading like veins across the surface. He stared at it, wide-eyed, his chest heaving. Slowly, he pulled his hand back, expecting to see blood, broken skin, something. But there was nothing. His knuckles were unmarked, not even a hint of redness.

A strange sensation washed over him, a tingling warmth that started in his hand and spread through his body. It was as if he'd been plugged into some unseen source of power, a current of vitality that made his muscles hum with energy. He flexed his fingers, marveling at the strength he felt. For a moment, he wondered if he could punch through steel, tear it apart like paper. The thought was intoxicating, but it was quickly overshadowed by another realization.

He looked down. His penis was calm now, soft and unassuming, as if the storm had never happened. Relief flooded him, so intense it made his knees weak. He grabbed a towel, draped it around his waist, and stepped out of the bathroom, his mind still reeling.

In the living room, Jenny sat at the table, her back stiff, her eyes fixed on the plate of food in front of her. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of what had happened earlier. Jack hesitated, then walked over and sat down across from her. The silence was deafening.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, his gaze fixed on the table. "About... earlier."

Jenny didn't respond right away. Her ears were red, her hands trembling slightly as she picked at her food. "Don't worry," she finally said, her voice small and fragile. "Just eat."

The meal passed in silence, each bite tasting like ash in Jack's mouth. He wanted to explain, to say something—anything—to make it better. But the words wouldn't come. How could they? How do you apologize for something like that?

Later, in the bedroom, Jack lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. The stars outside the window were bright, their cold light filtering through the glass. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more troubling than the last. 'I have to see that doctor tomorrow,' he thought. 'Ask him about the side effects. And Mom... I have to fix this. I have to make it right.'

But as the image of Jenny's flushed face flashed in his mind, he felt it again—the tightening in his waist, the familiar dread pooling in his stomach. He looked down, his heart sinking. "Shit," he muttered, panic clawing at his throat. "Not again."

His mind raced, trying to remember how he'd calmed it down last time. The wall. The cracks. The strange, electric surge of power. But now, lying in bed, he felt helpless. The dread was back, heavier than before, and he knew—this wasn't over. Not even close.

Suddenly, a knock resounded through the room, sharp and insistent. Jack's heart skipped a beat, his body tensing. "Mom?" he called out, his voice shaky. He knew it could only be her.

"Jack, can you open the door?" Jenny's voice came from the other side, soft but urgent.

"Y-yeah," Jack stammered. He quickly hid his erection by tying a belt around his waist, tucking himself in as best he could. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the buckle, his mind racing. 'What does she want? Why now?' He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then hurried to the door.

When he opened it, Jenny was standing there, her face flushed, her eyes glistening with something he couldn't quite place. She looked at him, her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but then, before he could react, she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were soft, warm, and for a moment, Jack's mind went blank, his body frozen in shock.

"I can't control it anymore," she whispered against his ear, her breath hot and trembling. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin just enough to make him wince.

Jack's heart pounded, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and panic. 'This is wrong. This is so wrong.' But his body betrayed him, a traitorous heat spreading through him despite the storm of guilt and fear raging in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, to push her away, but the words caught in his throat, strangled by the weight of the moment.

"Mom—what are you doing?" Jack's voice cracked, thin and desperate, as he tried to push her away. His hands pressed against her shoulders, but she didn't budge. She was stronger than she looked, her body pressing against his with a feverish intensity that made his skin crawl and his stomach churn.

Her tongue flicked against his neck, wet and insistent, trailing up to his ear. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine, a mix of revulsion and something darker, something he didn't want to name. Her breath was hot, her words slurred, as if she were drunk on something he couldn't see.

"Please, Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling with a need that made his blood run cold. "It's been so long… so long since I've felt like this. Don't push me away. Aah… your smell… you smell so amazing…"

Her lips crashed against his again, fierce and hungry, leaving love bites on his neck that burned like brands. Jack's mind was a whirlwind of panic and confusion. He tried to push her back, but his arms felt weak, his resolve slipping like sand through his fingers.

He remembered the smell. It had been there before, faint but unmistakable, when his body had betrayed him earlier. It was sweet, almost cloying, like rotting fruit left out in the sun. Was it him? Was it coming from him?

"Are they… pheromones?" he thought, his mind racing. "Did that serum do this to me? Did it give me… this?"

He gulped, his throat dry, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. He looked into her eyes, and what he saw there made his stomach twist. Her pupils were dilated, her gaze unfocused, as if she were in a trance. Possessed.

"This isn't right," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "This isn't good…"

He tried to push her away again, but his hands felt heavy, clumsy. His mind was clouding over, a fog of lust and fear rolling in, thick and suffocating. Jenny's body was warm, her curves pressing against him in a way that made his head spin. She was his mother, but in that moment, she didn't feel like his mother. She felt like something else. Something dangerous.

"Ahhh… fuck it!" he suddenly roared, the words tearing out of him like a wild animal's cry. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her onto the bed, his movements frantic, almost violent. His hands clawed at his clothes, tearing them off in a frenzy, his mind a blur of heat and need.

Jenny lay there, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed with a hunger that made Jack's skin crawl even as it stirred something deep and primal inside him. Her lips curled into a smile, wide and unnatural, and she spread her arms, beckoning him closer.

"Yes! Mother! I can't control it anymore either!" Jack's voice was a guttural growl, raw and primal, as if something deep inside him had broken free. His hands clawed at her clothes, tearing fabric with a ferocity that startled even him. The sound of ripping cloth filled the room, sharp and final, like the tearing of a veil between worlds.

Jenny's body was revealed in the dim light, her skin pale and glowing like moonlight on water. Her breasts heaved with each ragged breath, and Jack's mouth was on them before he could think, his teeth sinking into her flesh with a hunger that felt alien, monstrous.

"Aahh…" Jenny gasped, her body arching against his. There was pain in her voice, but it was mingled with something else—something darker, more primal. Her lips curled into a smile, wide and unnatural, her eyes glazed with a feverish intensity. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

"Yes, Jack," she whispered, her voice trembling with a need that made his skin crawl even as it stoked the fire burning inside him. "Yes…"