Bab 16: Chapter 16: Shifting For The First Time
Scott stood near the edge of the lacrosse field, still buzzing from the high of his team's victory. His eyes found Allison in the crowd. She waved at him, her smile bright and wide, but before Scott could make his way over to her, he saw a figure standing stiffly at the gate of the school.
Chris Argent.
The moment Allison noticed her father, her smile faltered. She gave Scott an apologetic look. "Sorry, I have to go," she said, stepping closer. "But remember, Sunday. You promised me a date."
Scott grinned, hiding his irritation at Chris's inconvenient presence. "I won't forget. Sunday, I'll pick you up." a hint of playfulness in his tone, making Allison giggle softly.
As she walked toward her father, Scott's eyes lingered on her retreating form. He could feel Chris's icy stare burning into him, but Scott wasn't bothered at all.
When Allison disappeared into her father's car, Scott turned to find Stiles waiting for him, leaning against his jeep. "So, date with Allison on Sunday, huh?" Stiles smirked, nudging Scott as they both climbed into the vehicle. "Look at you, Mr. Smooth."
As they drove off, the evening sun casting an orange glow over the streets, Scott pulled out his phone and called Deaton.
"Hey, Doc, just wanted to let you know I won't be coming to the clinic tonight," Scott said casually, watching the trees blur past as Stiles drove.
"Because of the full moon?" Deaton's voice came through the phone, cautious yet curious. "Are you sure you don't need help? This is your first shift, Scott. It can be… overwhelming."
Scott leaned back in the passenger seat. "I've got everything under control, trust me."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. "Just… be careful, Scott. Don't lose control."
Scott's lips curled into a smirk. "Don't worry. I won't."
He hung up and turned to Stiles. "You wanna come with me tonight?"
"To the woods?" Stiles's eyes widened as he glanced over at Scott. "For your first shift? Dude, is that… I mean, is it even safe? For me, I mean."
Scott chuckled, a dark edge to his laughter. "Don't worry. You'll be fine." He flexed his hand, feeling the subtle pull of his abilities swirling beneath his skin. He could sense his wolf, coiled and ready, but entirely under his command.
Stiles gulped, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Well, if you're sure… But if you start going all 'Hulk werewolf,' I'm out, okay?"
Scott just grinned. "Deal."
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Night fell swiftly, and soon Scott and Stiles found themselves deep in the woods. The full moon hung high in the sky, casting silver beams through the trees. The air was crisp, charged with energy. Scott could feel the pull of the moon. But instead of resisting that feeling, he welcomed it.
Scott stood in the clearing, eyes lifted to the moon. He could feel it—his wolf. Not just the animal instinct, but something more powerful, something ancient. His heart pounded, his skin tingling as the transformation began.
"I guess this is it," Scott said, his voice low as he looked at Stiles, who was standing a few feet away, nervously fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie. "You ready?"
"Am I ready? Dude, you're the one about to Hulk out!" Stiles's voice was laced with both fear and excitement.
Scott took a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting the wolf take over. He didn't fight it. He didn't fear it. He let it in.
His muscles rippled beneath his skin as the first changes began. Scott's eyes snapped open, glowing a deep crimson. Fur began to sprout from his cheeks, his claws extended, and his fangs elongated. His ears sharpened, becoming more wolf-like. He could hear everything around him—the rustling of leaves, the heartbeat of a nearby squirrel, the way Stiles's breath hitched as he watched in awe.
When Scott finally stood fully transformed, he still resembled a man, but there was no denying the raw power that radiated from him. He was a beast—a *human beast*.
"What color is my eyes?" Scott asked, his voice deeper, rougher, as he turned to Stiles with a wide grin.
Stiles blinked, staring at him. "Uh… your eyes. They're… they're red."
Scott's grin widened into an arrogant, almost wicked laugh. He threw his head back and let the sound echo through the forest, a laugh filled with pride and confidence.
Stiles took a few cautious steps back. "Uh, Scott, you okay? You're not… you know, losing control, right?"
Scott looked at him, still grinning. "Losing control? No way. You don't understand, Stiles." He held out his hand, admiring his claws, then his glowing red eyes locked onto his best friend. "Do you know what red eyes mean?"
Stiles shook his head slowly, swallowing nervously.
"It means I'm an alpha," Scott said, his voice filled with pride. "But not just any alpha. There are two kinds of alphas, Stiles. The ones like the guy who bit me. They kill an alpha and steal their power to become one. And then there's the rarest kind—*True Alphas*. They don't need to kill an alpha to become one. They rise to the top on their own, by sheer willpower and strength."
Stiles's eyes widened. "So… which one are you?"
Scott's grin faded into something more thoughtful. "I'm not sure, Stiles. I tried to shift before the full moon, but I could only use my claws, so before today I didn't know what color my eyes were. And as far as I know, a true alpha is a beta that rises in status and becomes an alpha due to his own willpower and strength, but because I'm awesome, I skipped the whole beta thing, so probably I'm a true alpha, I think! Or I'm something else. Something different. I don't know, Styles. Perhaps a born alpha!?."
Stiles stared at him, his mind racing. "A… born alpha? Is that a thing?"
Scott shrugged. "Well, what matters is that I'm an alpha." His grin returned, more feral this time. "And I'm not done yet."
With a deep growl, Scott tapped further into his wolf side. He pushed past the human beast form, reaching for something deeper, something primal. His body began to shift again, muscles expanding, bones cracking and elongating. His form grew taller, more menacing.
Stiles watched in horror as Scott's body twisted and changed, growing larger by the second. Fur covered his entire form now—thick, black fur that shimmered under the moonlight. His face elongated into a wolf's snout, fangs gleaming as they protruded from his jaws. His hands transformed into massive, clawed paws, and his legs bent into digitigrade limbs, giving him the appearance of a true predator.
By the time the transformation was complete, Scott stood over 2.5 meters tall, a towering beast of muscle and fur. His tail swished behind him, and his glowing red eyes locked onto Stiles, who was now staring up at the monster that had once been his best friend.
Scott flexed his new form, feeling the sheer power coursing through him. He felt invincible—untouchable. His senses were heightened beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Every sound, every smell, every movement around him was crystal clear.
But more than that, Scott felt in *control*. This was no mindless beast. He was the one in charge, the one calling the shots. And it felt… amazing.
Stiles, on the other hand, was pale, frozen in place as he stared at Scott. "Uh… Scott? Buddy? You still in there?"
Scott's massive head tilted down, eyes glowing ominously as he looked at Stiles. A low growl rumbled from his throat, sending chills down Stiles's spine. The sheer size and ferocity of the werewolf towering over him made Stiles freeze in place.
Without warning, Scott lunged.
In an instant, Scott was in front of Stiles, moving faster than he could blink. He grabbed Stiles like he weighed nothing, lifting him off the ground effortlessly. Stiles's heart raced, panic gripping him as Scott opened his monstrous mouth wide, revealing sharp, terrifying fangs.
"Scott—wait—no! SCOTT!" Stiles screamed, his voice cracking in pure terror. His body went rigid as he shut his eyes tightly, bracing for what he thought was the end. His mind raced, certain that his best friend was about to tear him apart.
Then, something wet and sloppy hit his face.
Stiles hesitated, confusion breaking through the fear. Slowly, he opened one eye to find Scott—now a giant wolf-monster—grinning at him. And as if that wasn't strange enough, Scott licked him again, this time drenching Stiles in saliva from his hair down to his shirt.
"What the—?" Stiles muttered, blinking in disbelief. It dawned on him that Scott had been messing with him this entire time. Scott, the massive, powerful werewolf, had just licked him like some oversized dog.
Before Stiles could process his shock, Scott gave him another wet lick, and then another, soaking him thoroughly.
"Scott! Stop! This is disgusting!" Stiles shouted, wriggling as he tried to escape Scott's grip. But it was no use—Scott was having too much fun.
Finally, Scott dropped him, and Stiles landed on the ground with a thud, looking like a drenched, bewildered chicken. he struggled to get back on his feet, wiping wolf slobber from his face.
"I can't believe you just—" Stiles started, but the words were lost as he glared up at Scott's mischievous grin. "Oh, you are SO dead!"
Without missing a beat, Stiles jumped up and started chasing after his werewolf friend, trying to hit him in revenge. But Scott, still in his massive form, dodged effortlessly, he ran through the trees, laughing.
"Tonight, McCall, I'm gonna skin you and use your wolf hide as a rug" Stiles shouted, his voice trailing after the sprinting werewolf.
Scott's laughter echoed through the woods as he kept just out of reach, letting the moonlight bathe him in its glow. He felt free—wild, invincible, and completely in control.
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