HSA-98: The Jackal

Lucy’s keys rattled in the door as she stumbled inside her house. Bags of groceries kept her arms preoccupied as she tried to wrangle herself through the doorway. She cursed as the door slammed shut behind her, and the only light was shut out with it. She meandered through the ill kept room, stepping over baskets and boxes which she had yet to unpack despite living in the house for nearly a year. Making it to the kitchen, she flicked on a light and sighed at the sight of the many unwashed dishes and discarded food boxes. She put down her things and began to put away the new supply of microwavable meals and cans of soup.

As she stocked the cabinet and freezer, she reminded herself that these were practical choices. Frozen meals were easy to prepare and saved time. Time she liked to use otherwise. She hated lingering on the meals themselves, too, and it showed in her physique. Lucy was rail thin and tall. The women at work told her they envied her slender form, but she knew behind her back they mocked her for the same thing. On more than one occasion, she’d overheard the catty women say a man would be better off fucking a broomstick than Lucy. She tried not to dwell on such things, but unpacking her single serve meals in her dark, empty house made it quite difficult.

Thinking it would cheer her up, she cleaned. She quickly filled one trash bag and put it to the side as she started on another. She busied herself going from room to room gathering dishes and glasses. She had a terrible habit of making herself a glass of water, taking it to one of the rooms, and forgetting about it. She would repeat this until several glasses remained at each of the spots within the house she frequented — beside the bed, at her office desk, in the living room beside the couch, and on the bathroom sink for when she was getting dressed. Dishes were less common as most of her meals came in prepackaged trays, but there always managed to be a few. She loaded the dishwasher and moved on to laundry. She hated housework, but preferred to get it all done in one swoop while telling herself to be more diligent about cleaning each dish as she used them.

As she loaded her underwear into the washer, she wondered what it was like to have a husband or even to live with someone. She had a roommate for a year in college. She liked the company, even though the girl wasn’t terribly fond of her. They didn’t have any shared interests. Lucy liked to stay in and watch movies or play games while her roommate lived for the night life. Lucy didn’t know what happened to the girl after freshman year as they never spoke again, but she liked to think they were friends who might reconnect some day. Lucy thought these things about many of the people from her past.

With the laundry done, she grabbed up the garbage and headed out to take the bins to the curb for the morning’s pick up. The night was crisp and cool. Lucy’s house was near the end of a long street at the start of the cul-de-sac’s curve. The houses around her were all dark save for a small interior glow from a television or monitor. A few yellow lamps hung over the too-small sidewalk providing a little light for street guidance rather than pedestrian ambling. Lucy rolled the bin down her drive and positioned it beside her mailbox. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

On the opposite side of the street, under one of the lamplights, a man stood. He wore a hat, a coat, and held briefcase in his left hand. The hat blocked the yellow light and shrouded his face in darkness. The street was silent. Lucy thought it should have been abuzz with the normal evening traffic of people coming in from work or rattling around in their garages. The houses should not have felt so dark or so empty, as if everyone meant to be inside had found a reason to be elsewhere. Standing at the edge of driveway, Lucy felt alone, except for the man across the street.

From where she stood, she could not tell if he was looking at her. The moonless sky offered no light, and the pale yellow of the nearest street lamp offered no help. Other than the grating drag of the garbage bins, she would have gone to the curb and back entirely unnoticeable. And yet, she could feel eyes on her. She knew he watched her — was watching her, as keenly as an owl watches its prey.

Nervously, she moved back towards her front door. She told herself she was being silly, but the closer she got to the door, the more she could feel a presence bearing down on her. At any moment, she expected to hear the quick patter of feet running on pavement. With each step she took, she counted the leaps and dashes she would have to make to escape a villainous pursuer. Her heart pounded in her chest as she grabbed the doorknob and ducked into her house. She bolted the lock behind her. Lucy moved over to the window and looked out into the street. The man had not moved. He stood as rigid as a statue. Though her house brought some comfort and security, she didn’t like the man outside. She thought of calling the police, but she didn’t want to make a fuss. Instead, she set about securing every lock in her home.

As she did, she grew more paranoid, checking the window latches and turning on the lights in each room. She checked behind the curtain of the shower. In her mind, she envisioned the man in her house, waiting for her in a different room, standing silently and waiting out of sight until she approached. He would then slink to a corner or behind a door to go unnoticed, waiting for the perfect moment to seize her. With the house fully checked, all the locks secured, and all the lights on to drive away any specter, she turned on the television and attempted to sit down. After a few minutes, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She crept over to the front door and peeked out into the dark night.

The man was gone. Her eyes moved up and down the street, searching for any sign of him as relief flooded over her body. How could she have been so silly? He was someone’s visitor, of course, waiting on the curb for his ride. Lucy didn’t know why the figure had made her so jumpy. As the curtain slid back over the window, she noticed something. Across the street, her neighbor had left their car in the driveway. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, but it looked off. Lucy’s mouth went dry, and she tasted something bitter at the back of her throat as her eyes resolved the shadow beside the car.

The man crouched in a twisted heap beside the vehicle. His eyes fixed on her.

The man moved. He lurched up from the crouch in an impossible twist of motion. With fast, determined steps, he crossed the street and up Lucy’s driveway. She didn’t know what to do. She backed away from the door and waited. The little light coming from the gap between the door window and curtain vanished. The man stood on the other side of the door, only inches away. A thick smell filled the air. Lucy struggled to place it. Her mind flashed back to years before when she’d been a young woman on a long walk with a boy she liked. They’d crossed through a park and come across a grate that led down to the sewer. The boy had insisted he’d seen something. He’d wanted to reach into the grate to brush aside some leaves and get a better look. Lucy had stopped him. The smell, a thick metallic stench, had frightened her. The same smell seeped through the door as she crouched down to stay out of sight.

The man knocked. Three times, each shaking her nerves to the point of break. And then silence. The smell grew stronger. Carefully, Lucy moved to the side where she could see out, but the man might not be able to see in. She cursed herself for having the lights on and allowing herself to be so easily seen. She thought of where she put her phone, but she couldn’t remember. She thought of a neighbor seeing a strange man at her door, but she’d never spoken to a single person on her street. She shifted slightly and saw under the brim of the man’s hat. A long, bone white snout protruded from the shadow. Curved white teeth gleamed in the pale light. She wanted to scream, but the fear strangled the noise in her throat. The knocks came again.

“Go…away,” she breathed, quietly, fear sapping her voice. “I’m calling the police!”

The knocks came again. Louder.

“Go away!” she screamed, fear cutting into the core of her being and motivating her into action. She scrambled from the entryway over to the fireplace and grabbed a decorative iron poker. She wheeled around, expecting the man in the mask to have barged in, but nothing changed. The man had not moved. Her eyes scanned the room for her phone. She wanted desperately to call for help, but did not dare let the man out of her sight.

The man spoke, “We have an appointment.” His voice was deep and wet, but came clearly through the door. Lucy’s skin crawled at the sound of it. “May I come in, please?”

She shut her eyes, squeezing them until they hurt. The cold metal of the poker stung her fingers as she gripped it. She wished for the man to go away. She wished for someone to notice her or help her. She wished for her feet to move, to run as far and as fast as she could. The smell became thick in the air, and she thought she would vomit. She opened her eyes.

The man was inside. He sat on the edge of a chair, his briefcase in his lap and his hat still on. The room was undisturbed otherwise. He had not forced open the door, and he had not come crashing through the window. As she looked at him, his head raised slightly. She didn’t know what type of skull it was, other than canine. Black eyes looked out from the hollow sockets. A few strands of greasy hair were visible at the very back of the grim visage, but otherwise, no hint of the man’s body could be seen. His hands were gloved, and the sleeve of his coat overlapped them. The coat draped over legs almost like a dress and allowed no sight of the body underneath. Lucy knew what was under the clothes because she could smell it. The stench of rot was unmistakable. The man gestured to couch opposite of him. “Please, sit down.”

To her own surprise, Lucy did just that. The iron fell from her hand, and she sat down politely across from whatever being had invaded her home. “Who are you?” she managed to ask.

A sound like a clearing of the throat came from behind the mask, “I am the Jackal. We have an appointment.”

“An appointment for what?” Lucy asked. Her voice still trembled, but curiosity had started to take hold.

The Jackal opened the case and withdrew a small glass orb held within a golden eagle’s claw. He set it down on the coffee table between them. “Look into the orb.”

The smell greeted her like an old friend, decay and fresh blood. She was eighteen, on a walk in the park with a boy she liked. The world around her was quiet except for the crunching, smacking sound directly in front of her. A creature crouched over the boy, and the ground was wet with blood. She wanted to scream, but no sound came. She turned to run, but stopped dead as she saw the Jackal. It took off its hat. Grizzled, blood soaked hair fell down around the bone white skull that Lucy knew was no mask. The monster smiled, if it could be called smiling. “We want to make a trade.”

The sound of gnawing grew louder. Lucy looked over her shoulder to where the young man laid on the ground, chest ripped open. Three of the creatures huddled around him, carefully picking out his organs like delicacies at a buffet. The fiends looked similar to the Jackal but smaller and more bestial. Nausea swept over her. “I’ve been here before.”

“You are here now. And then.” The Jackal pointed up, and Lucy followed his gesture. Above her, the sky curved sharply into a dome. She could see her living room, the monster on one side and herself on the other, staring intently at the orb on the table.

“What do you want?” She tried to ignore the grizzly sounds of the feast behind her.

“A trade. You hunt for us. We give what you want.”

“Hunt for you?”

“Find others. Like him. Like you were.”

The world blurred again. Time turned back on itself. Lucy and the young man sat on the park bench, his mouth on hers. His hand moved up her thigh as hers slid down his pants. Their hearts pounded as they kissed and wondered if anyone would see them. She grabbed hold of his cock and squeezed. He sighed in gratitude against her cheek as his hand pushed against her crotch. Then came the smell. The creatures crawled out from a nearby sewer. They grabbed at the young man. Lucy watched, stunned and horrified, as her boyfriend was pulled to the ground. Fingers as sharp as raw bone tore at the man’s chest. Lucy stood and turned away to meet the Jackal.

“Like you were,” it repeated. Visions of others filled her view. Thousands of men torn from beds as their lovers watched. Always the men, never the women.

She understood. “Now what?”

“Seven years and seven days. We will come back and grant your wish. Another like him, and our bargain is finished.” Lucy nodded and felt a pulling sensation behind her back. In the blink of an eye, she was sitting on her couch once again. The grotesque creature picked up the orb and put it back in the case. “It will start soon. A fever. We will follow.” The creature stood, walked to the door, and left as if it had simply dropped by for a drink.

Lucy sighed with relief as the monster left. She stood and walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As the cool liquid slid down her throat, the changes began.

A pinching, poking feeling crawled across her skin, like small needles pushing their way out. The glass dropped from her hand and shattered on the kitchen floor. She stumbled wildly into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin bubbled and writhed as new flesh rapidly grew on her bony frame. Frantically, she tore at her clothes and even at her skin, desperate to find some relief from the creeping pain. In her mind, she saw the same transformation happening to all the women who proceeded her. Her breasts swelled, growing into enormous round globes with dark, perky nipples. Her bones snapped and rearranged causing her to wince in pain. Lucy’s hips widened to match her new pair of tits. Her legs grew longer, and her stomach cinched in to an almost impossible ratio. As the pain began to subside, she could feel the power of her new body.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Not only had her breasts quadrupled in size, but her ass had swollen out to a bubble butt. Her pussy gleamed with arousal as her body hair fell away, leaving her smooth and bald from the neck down. She was becoming a slut, a whore, a creature meant only to fuck. Lucy laughed manically as two metal bars appeared through her pieced nipples, conjured from thin air. Her slightly longer tongue clicked as she adjusted to the feeling of having her tongue pierced. She imagined the rod moving along the underside of a man’s cock until her covered her tongue with creamy cum. Bringing her hands up, she squeezed her tits, excited to feel herself grow wetter from her own stimulation. Moving a hand down her taut body, she slid a finger inside her hot pussy, enthralled by how tight she felt.

The woman in the mirror was something impossible. She was the version of herself that Lucy always longed to be. All her worries and anxieties vanished. All those snide remarks from ugly bitches about being too thin or bony to get a man meant nothing now. Her body craved sex in every way. She ached with emptiness, her mouth watered for the taste of cock, and her ass wiggled at the thought of a cock sliding between her cheeks. With one last look in the mirror, she headed to her closet to find something to wear.

The club was loud and overcrowded. Most of the patrons jostled to get a drink, but Mark contently lingered in a corner eyeing the floor for someone in need of attention. His mouth dropped when he saw her. A woman with a body out of a porn magazine strode through the club as the crowd parted in respect of her presence. She scanned the crowd like a lion looking for a fresh kill. Men who dared meet her gaze quailed before her. Women watched with envy and malice as their husbands and boyfriends openly lusted after the goddess. Mark’s heart pounded in his chest as she grew closer. He couldn’t look away from her cleavage or the tops of her perfect hips squished into the short skirt. Before he realized it, she was in front of him.

“I’m Lucy,” she said, in a breathy voice. “What’s your name?”

“Mark,” he stammered, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty.

“Mark, I’m looking for someone to give me something I need.”

“Would you like a drink?” he babbled. The words felt hollow and pointless.

“No, I would like to take you into the bathroom and fuck you.”

She took him by the hand and led him out of noise of the club. Mark thought he heard people cheering for him as they made their way to the men’s bathroom. She pulled him inside and locked the door behind them. Mark couldn’t believe his luck as she dropped to her knees and made quick work of his pants. Her eyes looked up at him as she slid his cock into her mouth. He groaned as her warm soft lips moved down his shaft. He could feel the rod of a tongue piecing rubbing against the bottom of his cock until her tongue slithered forward to lick at his balls while his cock slid down her throat. He was in pure bliss.

Lucy wanted more. She had this man’s cock wedged in her throat, but he wasn’t long enough or thick enough. He would only do for a while. With a gulping noise, she let his cock slip out, leaving a string of spit between her lower lip and the glistening head of his dick. One hand held his cock by the root while the other roughly squeezed at his balls. Her fingers pushed at the bottom of his sack, rubbing the sensitive spot of his taint and urging on the production of cum. Her head bobbed up and down on his length as she enjoyed the feeling of his throbbing cock sliding in between her lips. His hand moved to the back of her head to pull her down with each stroke. She liked it and urged him on with happy moans. He took the hint and started to thrust into her mouth, fucking between her lips as her tongue continued to tease him.

Mark grunted involuntarily. He tried to pull away, but the woman grabbed hold of his hips and pulled him to her. She opened her mouth wide and shoved his stiff cock down her throat until her neck slightly bulged. Mark was stunned and overwhelmed with pleasure. In a surprise to even him, her throat contracted, and he started to cum. His abdomen seized slightly. He grabbed hold of her head again, pushing her down into his crotch as his balls unloaded directly into her throat. As the stream of cum stopped and his cock softened, the woman pulled away with a lurid slurp. She paused to lick his cock clean and squeeze out the last drop of cum before standing up and leading him over to the counter.

Lucy pulled off her top, and her tits fell into full view. The man’s eyes went wide, and his hands came up to feel the wondrously soft orbs. The second he touched her, his cock stiffened again. She lifted herself onto the counter and hiked up her skirt to reveal her beautifully smooth and soaking wet pussy. “Fuck me now, give me that cock in my pussy,” she whispered to him.

Mark pushed his pants down lower and moved close between her legs. As he hesitated, she grabbed his head and pushed it down between her tits. Her skin felt hot to the touch, but he couldn’t resist her. His mouth opened and licked and kissed at her tits. He marveled at the piercings and even slightly tugged at them with his teeth. She shuddered in pleasure. His few doubts vanished, and he moved forward. His cock found a waiting home and slipped into her with ease. Once again, he was enveloped by a tight, wet hole eager to receive his cum. Mark fucked into her hard and fast. She angled herself to keep them clear of the side of the counter and enjoyed the feeling of Mark’s balls slapping against her ass.

A strange feeling grew inside of him. He needed her more. He wanted to devour her entirely. Grabbing her up in his arms, he swung her around and dropped her on the floor. His cock ached to be back inside of her as he flipped her over. Lucy laughed and shoved her full ass up at him. Mark took handfuls of her voluptuous flesh and squeezed as his cock slid back into her dripping wet cunt. He sawed into her like a madman. He could feel his balls sagging with cum, and he wanted to fill her up with it. The sounds of their rutting echoed around the room as Lucy started to shake and tremble with pleasure. The orgasm came upon her suddenly, and she cried out. Mind bending sensations rocked through her body, but Mark didn’t slow or stop. His cock continued to plow into her folds over and over until a new wave of pleasure washed over her. Her pussy clamped down, and Mark drove his cock in to her core before he erupted. Cum gushed out of him as he roared in pleasure. His vision went blurry from the divine ecstasy of it. He came and came until it started to hurt.

His cock slipped out of her, but a wild sensation overtook him. He grabbed his cock as it continue to spray cum and shoved it into her ass. She happily rose up to meet it as cum started to shoot into her third hole. He pumped into her for a few seconds before the pain in his chest doubled. He staggered backwards, slipping off her and spraying cum onto her back and clothes. Mark groaned and fell backwards, his cock issuing forth a few final drops of cum as he blacked out from the pleasure.

Lucy stood up, cum in her belly and dripping from her pussy and ass. She pulled down her skirt and put back her top. She didn’t bother to clean off the man’s seed, but took a minute to fix her hair. The smell of rot and blood filled the bathroom. In the mirror, she saw the bone muzzle of an otherworldly creature as it crawled out from the bathroom stall. Lucy didn’t think it all that ugly any more. She headed to the door and noticed the Jackal in the corner. It looked through her as more of the horrible creatures filled the room.

A final memory returned to her mind. The body of the boy remained on the ground. The Jackal stood over the eviscerated husk. From his case he withdrew a canine skull and placed it on the boy’s face. Within seconds, the corpse moved, its bones twisting and joints reshaping into a gnarled freak.

Lucy shrugged, pulled her top down slightly to better show off her tits, and headed out into the club.

Report of Agent Marshall Kennedy
May 7th, 2015
Regarding Subject HSA-98: The Jackal

The REDACTED night club called local police at 10:14pm to report a ‘wild dog’ attack on their premises. We got called after several on site interviews popped with two descriptions. First, a woman described generously as ‘a porn star who you’d not bother with a rubber to fuck’. Second, ‘a tall man in a trench coat wearing some kind of dog mask’. Together, it sent up an alarm for one of our contacts. Once the alarming amount of seminal fluid was discovered, we were called in.

While we don’t have a body, a local man known to frequent the club, Mark Jameson, has been reported missing. The bartender recognized his photo and, though she couldn’t be certain, believed he’d been in the bar that night. Blood samples pending, but we’re confident we have our guy.

From the descriptions of the bone faced man and the reports of ‘wild dogs’, we can also safely assume we’re dealing with the Jackal again. Based on HSA-98’s previously established M.O., we believe the woman in question to be the bait. For whatever reason, the Jackal and his dogs feed primarily on men in a heightened sexual fervor before converting the body into a creature like themselves. We found no direct evidence of the Jackal or his dogs. We did recover camera footage of both the bathroom entrance and the alley outside. Though the footage of the entrance show a man and woman entering the bathroom at roughly 10pm, only the woman emerges eight minutes later. Shortly after that, the scene is discovered.

The woman left the club immediately thereafter, but not before recruiting another victim. Nearby surveillance footage caught the pair walking by a gas station. The woman remains unidentified, but trailing behind the pair, we can identify the shadows of several canine shaped creatures.

After reviewing the file, I see no reason to alter approach protocols for HSA-98. The Jackal remains extremely dangerous with many abilities we do not understand. Nor do we have a grasp on the creature’s origin or the need for its companions. Without confirmation of the woman’s second victim, the Jackal’s total victim count is now three hundred and sixty three. I have tasked several agents with locating the woman. Perhaps, if we find them, we will be able to observe the Jackal and its feeding practices directly.