Shift, Part XI

[Xyggurat]

As I've mentioned a thousand times, Rowan has been blackmai--er, encouraging me to write. Here is the fruit of today's work. I look forward to your comments.

-X-

[Xyggurat]

"The good news is that God doesn't care if you're gay, straight, or most things in between," Danny said, folding his arms.

"And the--"

"The bad news is that you're not going to meet him if you keep on this path, love."

I scrubbed at my eyes. "Oh, boy."

"Something wrong? I'm sorry the threat of eternal damnation kills your buzz a little. Next time I descend from heaven to carry you a warning, I'll be more subtle about it."

Shaking my head, I answered, "No, it's not that. I sort of figured that when I had a massive stroke and fell into a coma, hallucinating about you would be a little more pleasant."

My dead lover narrowed his eyes at me. "Let me get this straight. You have a demon living in a box in your room. You've gone from dud to stud--no offense--over the course of a night. But you don't believe that I died, went to heaven, and have now--out of the goodness of my angelic heart, mind--broken just about every natural law of heaven and earth to bring you a message?"

"Right on the money."

"Johnny, you've gotten more cynical. I didn't think that was possible."

"Thanks," I said, looking around.

The bathroom appeared real. The floor tiles were cold and sharp against my feet. Fluorescent lights droned overhead like a swarm of irradiated bees. Cautiously, I considered the possibilities. It was possible that I was hallucinating the entire thing. Some aftereffect of the drastic changes my body had gone through in such a short time. Lack of blood to the brain resulting from my larger new organ?

I glanced down at my crotch. My dick hung flaccid under the towel. Larger it might be, but I was definitely flattering myself if I thought blood flow was an issue.

Heavenly visitations didn't just happen. And if they did, weren't they supposed to be all hazy and cloudy, like some bad daytime soap? Angels on television were never this direct.

Moreover, this was so far beyond my frame of reference that I could not grasp it. I tried to work through my disbelief: Logically, if demons existed, angels probably did too. Maybe it was just the baseness of my humanity that had so much difficulty processing the situation. I had no trouble believing that there were creatures of pure evil, but pure good flew in the face of my expectations.

Danny slapped me on the cheek, hard, shaking me from my reverie.

"So, you're not pure good, after all," I said, rubbing at the stinging flesh.

"Maybe I can only hurt you because you're evil," he rejoined.

"Am not!"

"Are--look, stop. I'm real. And you've taken a serious step toward the Dark Side."

I rounded on the thing that called itself Danny. "We still haven't established that you're real. I've had dreams like this--about you!--a thousand times, and every time I wake up, you're still dead. Also, ow." My cheek was bright red. He hit hard for someone that didn't exist.

Danny groaned, running his hands through his hair. "Look, this wasn't supposed to be like this. Angelic visitations are supposed to be ominous and life-changing. Johnny, you're not dreaming." His tone softened. "Please, believe me."

Emotions roiled in my gut as reality tightened its claws around me. It looked like Danny. Even if this was some strange, waking dream, it felt achingly real. His coils of brown hair, streaked with summer blond. The way his eyes shifted in the light, winking from blue to green like twin will-o'-the-wisps. His face had more lines than I remembered, and he was significantly taller and better built than he had been when he died. I felt instantly guilty for checking out an angel. Then again, I was already damned, wasn't I?

"You're older than you were," I noticed.

"I don't have to be. I just kept pace with you."

Death had stolen Danny's flair for bright clothing. He was dressed in a conservative turtleneck sweater, the color of which was somewhere between beige and dark gold in hue. His favorite color had been red. But that was more my style, wasn't it? Mine and Shift's. Red and black and all of those other things that screamed 'bad guy.' I was evil, after all. Wasn't I?

Tears stung my eyes. I shrugged off the improbable situation and shook my head. My subconscious was working overtime on this dream. I said as much.

"Still not a dream. Do I have to slap you again?" When I shook my head, he put his arms on my shoulders. "I know what's going on here, Johnny. A big part of you doesn't want to believe I'm real. You did your grieving, you put it behind you. Some bits of you even blame me for the fight, and for leaving you. I wouldn't have come down if there were any other way."

I turned back to look at my enhanced body in the mirror. The striated cleft between my pecs, the tightness of my stomach. Stronger, bigger muscles imparted a predatory grace to my movements that brought Shift's languid ease of motion to mind.

"Part of you knows that what you did was wrong, despite the reward," continued Danny. "I've tried to send you warnings every step of the way--"

"Oh, really," I hissed, surprised at the venom in my voice. I watched him in the mirror, spearing him with a cold stare. "Where were you when Brent and Reagan beat me? When I found Shift in the first place? You got the easy way out of this mess. You died before you could fuck up your life. If I'm going to burn, I might as well have a good time before I shuffle off after you."

The look on Danny's face surprised me. I didn't think an angel's face could express fury, but I think in that moment I learned what divine wrath was.

His voice was frozen vitriol. "Every time I tried to warn you, you ignored me. I know you felt it, but you threw it off."

A chill swept over me, one that I had been feeling more and more often of late. Recollection settled upon me and coalesced into biting certainty. The first time I'd felt it was the night that had begun my descent. I'd known then that the chill was a warning, but I'd shaken it off time and again so I could get my own way. My knees almost went out from under me.

"I'm an idiot," I whispered, my voice pocked with gravel.

"I know," said Danny, quietly, wrapping my towel-clad form in the warmth of his arms. "But I still love you. I descended because this is your last chance to do something about this. You've got to--"

The bathroom door swung open, and one of the residential aides poked his head in. I spun away from Danny, thinking of an excuse for the two of us being in the bathroom in such an intimate position, but the weight of Danny vanished from atop my shoulders.

"Smith," said the RA. I didn't know his name. "You doze off or something? Wow, looks like you've been working out."

I nodded, but said nothing.

*****

Shift did not come out of his box that night, or the next. Whenever I even thought about a second night with Reagan, the otherworldly chill I had come to associate with Danny tickled along the back of my neck. I tried to tell myself that it was just another dream, product of a late night with my demon. Now I dealt with a new emotion: sharp pangs of guilt hounded my thoughts. Days turned in to weeks, and my newfound muscles softened a bit.

Three weeks had passed before I decided to take my ill-gotten muscles to the gym for a workout. I checked myself out in the mirror before I left. My stomach had gotten a bit soft and a little fat obscured some of my gains. Nonetheless, when I put on my tank top, I felt a little better. Almost cocky. I may not have felt like a little stud, but I was on my way to looking the part.

I jogged to the gym and was breathing hard by the time I made it over. A newspaper dispenser sat to the left of the gym doors, so I decided to pore over a few articles while I waited for my heart rate to normalize a bit. Most of the articles were the typical collegiate crap: movie reviews and commentary about our sorry performance in sports. A student had gone missing while hiking, but I didn't recognize the name.

Dropping the paper in the nearest trash can, I made my way into the gym. Perhaps it was my new equipment or my larger thighs; maybe it was just confidence, but I swaggered a bit as I walked over to the check-in desk.

My new, cocky self evaporated as soon as I set foot in the gym. Some of the guys were my height--at 5'9, I was on the better side of the national average--but everyone looked so much bigger than I. Especially the two boys who had claimed the bench press. I repressed a sigh.

Reagan and Brent again. They didn't notice me as I stationed myself on a nearby treadmill and began an endurance workout.

"Quit being a bitch," hissed Brent. "C'mon, man. You can do this."

"I dunno, man, I'm just having an off day," grunted Reagan, letting the weight fall back into place with an audible clang.

"You've been having an off month. I'm gonna catch up to you soon, bro."

Despite my guilt, I had to repress a smile at that. A glance out of the corner of my eye told me that Reagan was still the solid wall of muscle that he had been since coming to college, but he was definitely closer to Brent's height now. He looked a bit thinner about the arms and chest, as if he had not been pushing himself in the gym of late. One thing was certain, though: Reagan had lost more than I had gained. I figured the rest had been consumed during the transference.

I finshed my third mile with surprisingly little effort, got off the treadmill, and settled myself at the preacher curl machine. To my delight, I had to raise the weight to fifty-five pounds before I could get a serious workout. It wasn't much, but it blew my previous max on the machine away.

The rest of the workout continued along the same lines. Lifting weights had always been a chore before, but with my increased strength and endurance, I was actually starting to get something of a rush by the time I had finished.

I glanced at the clock. An hour and a half had passed, and I was barely sweating. My muscles felt pumped and tight, and I felt like I could have gone another few rounds with the lat pulldown machine. Not wanting to overdo it, however, I headed for the showers.

As I was undressing, I heard the locker room door open and hiss shut. I didn't look up until the lock snicked closed.

Brent and Reagan stood expectantly at the doorway, sweating and sneering. My heart throbbed in my chest, and I took in a gasp of breath. This wasn't good, by any vagary of the imagination.

"You think we'd forget or something?"

I stared up at Brent, not quite comprehending.

"We never got to finish teaching you that lesson," he prompted.

"Guys, look," I said, hating the quaver in my voice. "I don't want any trouble."

Reagan shrugged his huge shoulders. "We do."

"I'll scream," I promised.

"No one'll hear you," answered Brent.

Brent grabbed me by the front of my shirt and shoved me backward over the bench. I felt the sharp edges of the locker dig into my back. Pain rocketed through my back. That's probably why I missed the fist flying at my face. One thing I didn't miss, though, was the hot, wet pain when Brent's punch slammed into my eye.

*****

"You look well," said the demon.

His open box sat on the floor next to my bed, its top spattered with my blood. I'd huddled in the bathroom for a long time before finding the strength to wash myself and dress again. The girl at the front desk looked at me oddly, taking in my swollen left eye and the gash on my lip in quiet shock. I told her I had fallen in the shower.

It took all my strength to make it back to my room without collapsing. I gave up on dismissing people as they asked me if I was all right, and toward the end I just hurried past them with my head down so they could not see the blood leaking from my lips, or the tears from my eyes.

When I'd first gotten up from the beating they'd given me, my first impulse had been to go to the police. I was sure that I could land my two assailants in jail with assault charges hanging over their heads. Maybe it would qualify as a hate crime. Then came the flood of shame that I had been so stupid, so confident after my meager transformation, that I had forgotten how deep their unfounded hatred ran. Finally, I realized that there was only one thing that could help me through this.

I hesitated for a moment before letting Shift out of his box, remembering my daydream of Danny from a few weeks prior. I tried to shrug off the cold chill that rippled up my spine as I pulled the container out from under the bed. Danny was dead; the warnings were not real. Revenge was all I cared about. I had let doubt unman me in the past, but now I would make my enemies pay.

"Can you fix this?" I asked, gesturing to the bruise growing on my eye.

"We can, together," Shift whispered, extending his long, slender fingers toward me. "Make yourself comfortable."

Our hands linked, and I felt the heat of the demon, the realness of him. I could lose myself in Shift entirely, in the empty darkness of his eyes; the huskiness of his voice. He smelled of musk and spice as he drew near to me. We sat on the bed, my hands joined with his, forming a circle of man and immortal.

His heat trickled in to me, flowing through my veins. It was pleasure and pain all at once, a sensation that made my muscles go as lax as a newborn's. Seconds stretched into hours, and the warmth gathered in all of my wounds: my split lip and bruised eye, the jangling ribs one of Reagan's kicks had left behind. All of the little hurts rushed to the fore of my mind, blazing into startling agony before beginning to fade in bursts of warmth.

It was past midnight by the time we finished. Shift's arms were strong and hard around me, like a lover's embrace. Shock had long since vanished, leaving me weeping and shaking as the reality of my mortality set in.

The demon pushed me gently away, lifting my chin with one strong finger.

I stared into his void-dark eyes.

"Why did you help me?" I asked.

"You're my master," he responded, "And now that your doubts are gone, we are going to do great things."

A chill leapt up my neck, vanishing as Shift pulled me into a searing, passionate kiss.

[Rowan]

Niiiiice!

Chance for redemption, almost there, and now it's gone. I'm terrified for Johnny, but I do hope those two jerks get what they deserve.

Glad to see this series up and running. A little good natured, er, encouragement never hurt anyone.

Speaking of, er, encouragement, posted Want Me - 5.

-- Rowan

[skumbum]

Neeeeeeeat

[sexiscriptor]

hot'n'sexy as always ;p

[theseventhwave]

[COLOR="Red"]That...was Dee-licious!

Ooo Rowan baby - I owe you a big sloppy kiss for whatever it is that you are doing to get my Xyg writing. [/COLOR]

[Ender]

I just got finished reading the series in one sitting... it's cool... I don't have time right now to give it the analysis it deserves... That will please those that think I analyse the stories too much... I can identify a lot with Johnny in someways... an underdog that wishes the world was a bit more "fair" he just wants life not to be stacked against him all the time...

Oh yeah... it was TheMM sig quoting Shift that caused me to read it... Reminds me of the Asreal (Jason Lee) in "Dogam"... "What did you expect? I'm a Fu...ing Demon!"

more later... maybe...

Ender

[skumbum]

looking forward to part xii!
i!i!i!

[Xyggurat]

Hehe. And to think, I was hoping to wrap this whole fiasco up in thirteen parts.

There are probably about five to go.

-X-

[Clarence591]

Love the begginning of this chapter Xyggurat. The banter between Danny and our hero is not only humorous, but its the kind of humor that comes from familiarity that only friends or lovers share. Very difficult to write, but you do it oh so well. I'm jealous.

Glad to have you back. I looking forward to the next five (or so) chapters.

[Xyggurat]

Originally Posted by Clarence591

Love the begginning of this chapter Xyggurat. The banter between Danny and our hero is not only humorous, but its the kind of humor that comes from familiarity that only friends or lovers share. Very difficult to write, but you do it oh so well. I'm jealous.

Glad to have you back. I looking forward to the next five (or so) chapters.

I was extremely self-conscious about posting this chapter with that dialogue intact, but I'm glad that I did. That was the feeling I wanted to produce, but it felt a little too flippant and Buffy in my head until I realized that Johnny thought he was imagining the whole thing.

In other news...

Someone pointed out privately to me that I seem publicly "down" on my writing, which is admittedly unhealthy. It's not insecurity that prompts me to second-guess my writing ability. I'm just going through an extended self-flagellation tour here in trying to get together enough work to get a real novel published.

The last few months have seen what little free time I had above and beyond the musical being consumed by writing. I've gotten less work done than I'd hoped.

Numerous pitfalls complicate the process. I take fantasy writing more seriously than I do erotic work, which makes it feel more arduous in the first place. Also, unlike this board, I don't have active feedback on my fantasy writing. As I get deeper and deeper into writing the novel, I continue asking myself if my creation is good enough to warrant notice and publication.

Thus, sometimes when I cower away from epic adventurers and come to work on Shift or Uneven Desires instead, professional doubts follow in my slipstream.

I continue to appreciate everyone's readership and comments. I will try to get another chapter out some time this week.

-X-

[skumbum]

Originally Posted by Xyggurat

I take fantasy writing more seriously than I do erotic work, which makes it feel more arduous in the first place. Also, unlike this board, I don't have active feedback on my fantasy writing. As I get deeper and deeper into writing the novel, I continue asking myself if my creation is good enough to warrant notice and publication.

As king of the obvious, I feel obligated to chime in here: don't confuse writing with rewriting -- i.e. don't think it's gotta be perfect the first time. If you can just write whatever you want without pre-censoring yourself, it's probably gonna be pretty great anyway, then you can get feedback and polish it up.

Similarly, it's certainly way too early to doubt yourself. If your fantasy writing is half as inspired as your stories here, they are far superior to much of what's on the market.

(Others should feel free to chime in here.)

[theseventhwave]

Originally Posted by skumbum

(Others should feel free to chime in here.)

[COLOR="Black"]CHIME![/COLOR]

[COLOR="Red"]I agree with the King of the Obvious (it's a lovely country btw, I vacation there all the time), in that your writing is truly exceptional. And if your fantasy writing is anything like your erotic work, then please sign me up for an advance order!

In addition, I sort of agree/disagree with SB's point about the editing. I certainly do appreciate the insane time/effort that you put into crafting your work, but I suppose that SB might have a point about things not needing to be "perfect" - sometimes the board members are glad to be able to help with suggestions (I am only supporting this point by SB if it helps to take off any pressure - just remember, while you think it "still needs work" it is still something that will blow my mind).

But having said that, I also feel the need to note that although I love the steamy sex and the mind-blowing muscle transfer/growth, I can get those in other stories by other authors. Thus, why do I keep coming back to these stories written by a few of the authors here? (primarily you, Xyg) --- It's the writing stupid![/COLOR]

[COLOR="Red"](sorry, I don't usually use the word "stupid" - but it makes the joke work (I hope))
[/COLOR]

[jsmith2300]

X,

I'm rather late to this party, but I wanted to echo all of the sentiments expressed by my fellow fans: Shift is one of the few stories that keeps me checking the forum daily to see if there's been an update. I HUNGER for it! The dialouge is witty and enjoyable, the muscle theft is - as always - hot as sin, and the plot continues to be fresh as we march to Reagan and Brent's ultimate humiliation (with any luck, anyway). I truly feel for Johnny, and - despite his visitor for heaven - I'm glad he's decided for revenge. It's much more enjoyable guilty pleasure for your readers!

Thank you so much for resurrecting Shift and bringing it back into the light for us, X. Your talents are always appreciated!

--JSmith

[skumbum]

thump .

[skumbum]

whump .

you too

[Xyggurat]

I will get to it. :P

[dreamer1188]

This is a fantastic story! Does anyone know if Xyggurat is going to complete it?

[Xyggurat]

Shift will continue, eventually.

As I said, I haven't felt exceptionally stimulated (in a literary, rather than a sexual sense) by this forum lately. As much as I deeply appreciate the comments--positive and negative--of this forum's readers, I felt that writing here was making me complacent. Also, writing erotica has always made me feel a little sleazy. It's not something I can't overcome, but in a time when I have the opportunity for other projects, it can be a deal-breaker for progress on MGS writing.

I've been trying to expand my writing horizons by working on an actual fantasy novel. It's been tough, namely because I don't get the sort of instant feedback that I received on The Roommate, and have received on Shift thus far.

The big holdup is that, at this point, I pretty much need to rewrite Shift up to the current chapter, or it's going to feel like two different stories.

Never fear, though. Rowan has bribed me significantly to get me started on this. It's just not quite at the top of my priorities for the moment.

Thanks for your collective patience; you all have my gratitude for being great readers.

-X-

[sexiscriptor]

muahahaha, obviously, my dearest xyggie, rowan and i need to "collaborate" to ensure you don't puss out on us :P
plus--you know i've been editting/counselling some writers here on the forums, so feel free to ask me to look anything over :P I mean, the worst that'll happen is i'll mock & revile you, but i'd still give you SOMETHING constructive ;p
~Chris

[Wynfrith]

I do hate to admit that I came to this series a bit late (today) but do encourage you to continue. It is fantastic...and of course, we all need to know more.

[sexiscriptor]

Originally Posted by Wynfrith

I do hate to admit that I came to this series a bit late (today) but do encourage you to continue. It is fantastic...and of course, we all need to know more.

seconded! i will say, and of course I speak for xyg >:P, he was mumbling something the other day about continuing sometime.... no promises! but i'll see what i can do to twist his arm--I want to read where this goes as much as anyone
~Palmer

[Wynfrith]

I am willing to twist arms, if that will help in any way.

[Ender]

I'm glad to hear that there will be more Shift... it is an interesting premise for a story.

I happened across the anime series "Death Note" recently and the image of Light/Kira and "his" shinigami/demon Ryuk

http://www.shonenjump.com/onlinemang...=dn-hi-preview and flip a head to page 3 and 4 (to the left)

struck me as very much like Shift and his human counter part... I was wondering if that was any thing like the way you visualized the characters...

Ender

[skumbum]

Man, I just reread this cliffhanger chapter.

P.S. I picture Shift with more convergent vision than in that comic...

[Xyggurat]

To me, Shift is either something shadowy and formless or an exceptionally ripped guy with a lighter build, dark hair, and pure black eyes. I'd almost put him looking like Gaspard Ulliel, but probably a bit darker-skinned and with a little more exotic flavor to his looks. He really is painfully handsome in my mind, but not anime-femme-ish.

I don't believe in forcing people to see my characters one way or another, though! A story is about 1% the words I write and 99% the imagination of you, the reader.

[dreamer1188]

Please can someone persuade zyggie to continue this story....we have been waiting far too long

[redroger11]

I'm rereading this and got to the point where the kid's angelic lover is telling him that a sudden chill is his way of warning him. A chill??? Is that all God's Dominion have to send out a warning? Sure, that's what the author is doing in this story, but it seems that that is exactly the message that gets sent through a lot of stories, and not just on this site. The whole world seems to act like doing the right thing, being a good person is a curse. But doing just that very thing is what got us all right here and now. Our parents(most of them) did the right thing to get us old enough to be able to take care of ourselves. And then some of them went the extra mile to actually give us the time/space/opportunity to be able to live our lives as we want to, not as many of us Have to live them. To see someone in pain or need and to deny them assistance because you are messing with "free Will" is to deny the love and goodness that you, yourself received when ever you received it.
I have the weird belief that there is a God, but his hands are tied in bringing out "Magical" fixes to our blunders, because of that very idea of free will. But I also believe in subtle hints. Fine , humanity is responsible for all that humanity does to nature and itself. So this poor jerk is stuck with being raped and nearly beaten to death. What in the world would make him want to listen to an angel whose only tool to warn him is a chill? But that's the way our current world acts. Like that's the only thing they can do so the Celestial Lawyers don't jump down our throats. Destiny. Free will.
Another weird idea is that God's voice is singing all around us and we choose to ignore it as "Noise. Even if you don't believe in a god at all, I think that the good things in the world are there for you to see, and many of us only see the the dirt and the pain.
We all go through some trying times. Maybe that's why this is such a great space for readers and writers like us. We have someone to listen to all our hopes and fears. Written out for your entertainment. This place really is a blessing in disguise, with or without a Supreme Being watching in the wings.

I apologize for this lengthy "quickpost" Not very quick. But when I get like this, I sure am glad there is a way to express it and someone out there to listen to it. And all the comments that may come, are welcome in the same spirit given. Cause I am also one of the ones who will listen to what you want to say. I guess that's my idea of "the Deal"

Parting shot: When an adult is reduced to tears and in their mind they are reduced to the size of a five year old and they reach up to a mother or father for a hug. And then get one. Sometimes that's all you need to get through the... whatever, that just reduced you to tears. Sending a hug to you all.

redroger11

P.S. I sure hope Xyggurat puts out another chapter soon. This is a good story. It deservers more chapters. Keep Writing.

rr11

[Xyggurat]

I've been seriously thinking about it. I'd like to complete another story. This one just got to the point where there was more that needed to be re-written than needed to be written ahead.

-X-

[sexiscriptor]

Originally Posted by Xyggurat

I've been seriously thinking about it. I'd like to complete another story. This one just got to the point where there was more that needed to be re-written than needed to be written ahead.

-X-

Yeah, you damn well BETTER be "thinking about it", ho. I will come after you...and soon. ;p
~Ille

[skumbum]

bump :)

[skumbum]

or part XII

[dreamer1188]

agreed! hope zyggy will continue this, its a great story!