Strange Magic Read Online Free PDF

frightened him almost as much as the metamorphosis itself. He rubbed his throbbing temples, rocking back and forth in the fading light, and waited.
    The urges were strong tonight. That wasn’t a good sign. Sometimes weeks would go by without them being this strong, but usually it was more likely to be just a day or two. When the urges were only whispers, he could sometimes will them away and he’d be left alone, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. Tonight, it was as if the voices had slipped into his head, conveniently sucked out his brain, and replaced it with a big bass drum that steadily pounded to the urges’ beat.
    “Please stop,” he begged. “I don’t want to go out tonight. I don’t want to go back out again ever. It’s wrong. Do you hear me? Wrong!”
    The urges beat their drum harder and faster, heedless of his pleas. The tempo and volume spiraled ever higher, pounding and reverberating in his head like the sound of cannon fire. The pain was intolerable and getting worse, as if at any moment his skull would surely split and spatter the walls red. The urges drowned out all rational thoughts until the man knew he’d either have to obey them or go stark raving mad.
    “All right… All right !” he screamed, dropping to his knees, cradling his aching head. “I’ll go, I promise. Just get out of my head. Please. Give me peace and I’ll do anything you want.”
    The pounding in his head increased momentarily, then dropped away to a distant rumble. It never fully died away, choosing rather to linger in the back of hismind, just as a warning. The heavily sweating man’s relief at the receding noise was so great he temporarily lost consciousness. It was like slipping into a crystal clear pool of cool water on a scorching summer day. He slumped all the way to the floor, curled into the fetal position, and enjoyed the swim…
    When he regained his senses, the change in him was complete. He was a different man now. This new person liked to call himself Tom, though he knew it wasn’t his real name. His real identity was rendered insignificant when Tom was around. His real name was forgotten, gone with the weakling who’d earlier wanted to resist the urges. That side of him was nothing more than a pathetic fool who didn’t realize how many sweet things there were in this world just waiting to be tasted. Tom wasn’t scared to taste the sweeter things in life; on the contrary, he thrived on them. When the urges began to drum for Tom, they did not have to ask twice. He was off the floor, on his feet, and heading for the door in an instant. Whistling happily, he walked naked through the dark house toward the back door.
    He brushed the curtain aside to peer out, checking to see if the way was clear, then backed up a few steps to open the hall closet. Inside was everything he would need for tonight’s fun and games. Tom loved fun and games, but then again, most perverts did.
    Yes, Tom was a pervert, and he had no qualms about admitting that to himself. His other side, the weaker part of him, might have a problem with it, but that was why Tom got to have all the fun. He never kidded himself. He believed in calling a spade a spade, so seeing as he was a pervert, why not call himself one?
    If the truth be told, Tom was more than just your average everyday run-of-the-mill pervert, he was also a rather accomplished Peeping Tom. That’s where his name had come from. Everyone knew the old story about how some poor bastard named Tom had opened the curtains at the wrong time, and mistakenly watched some stupid bitch ride by his window naked on a horse. It was a silly story, but apparently the well from which the legend of the Peeping Tom sprang.
    “As far as I’m concerned,” Tom whispered, “any broad who’d ride down the middle of the street naked on a freakin’ horse was asking to be gawked at. She’s just lucky I wasn’t there.”
    In this modern day and time, most people referred to this indecent act as