Chapter 4

Things pretty much settled down into a pattern after that. I had my classes, and they alternated between real martial arts and mental well-being. I even had a girlfriend for almost a year.

Wait, is this thing even on? OK, so the red blinking light means it is recording? If you say so, I do not see anything. Huh, it was made for somebody else and I can not see the light? That makes no sense, but whatever.

Oh, my girlfriend. Kelly was another firecracker, the type of girl I always loved being with. Short and slender, with big knockers. She had a wicked sense of humor, and I met her at a cocktail bar I sometimes went to in Little Italy. She was Italian from New Jersey, and I thought had the most adorable accent.

“Ah yes, oh so good, Clint! Harder, fuck me harder!” she screamed, as I was doing the best I could one night in my bed. I bent my head and took her silver dollar sized areola in my mouth and sucked hard, biting on the nipple lightly with my teeth. “Oh, you bastard! Bite them! Bite them, you bastard!” Thankfully Kelly was really easy to get off, once you learned the trick. Just a little pain and she was like boom-boom-boom-boom. But I also loved that she was a real cuddle bunny, and understood that I did try my best, even though I was more than a little broken.

The next morning she made us breakfast as I took a shower, and we hung around the apartment until I had to head to the dojo. She was already getting ready for work, and we kissed as I headed out the door, knowing she would be leaving shortly afterward.

That evening was another of the classes for the gang intervention group, and it was packed. We had expanded to four nights a week now, with donations paying for me to move from paying students to taking care of them. It paid less than teaching little Johnny to be another Daniel LaRusso, but it was more satisfying.

And as that night we were finishing another quarter of classes, we had the ceremony where each performed the katas and other steps for advancement, then some sparring. I then had each come forward and handed them their new belts. And more than a few of the kids as well as the parents were emotional. As most were advancing a belt each quarter, at least for the first year.

Then at the end, one of the kids asked me to stand. Jesus reminded me a lot of myself at 15, and he had taken to the discipline like a duck to water. He presented me with a frame, and when I removed the wrapping, it had a drawing of myself looking like Mister Miyagi, teaching a student as I stand there and order him to kick harder and try harder.

Shelly was one of the dozen girls in the class, and she then read a poem she had written. I saw it was typed on the bottom of the frame. And it was good, for her being 14. Basically comparing me to the titular instructor from the movie, not able to do what I was asking of them, but expecting nothing more or less than the best they could do.

All of the advancing students came up, and after bowing to each other they broke tradition and hugged me. And it was really emotional, realizing I really was making a difference. And even though I had tried to keep this less formal they all insisted I was Sensei.

Afterward one of them asked why I was not using that term, and I laughed. “You all have been watching too many movies. Sensei is Japanese for ‘Teacher’. Now that is fine for Judo, and for say Okinawa Karate. I am Seventh Dan in Taekwondo, that is Sahyun, or ‘Master’. If I am teaching Chinese Karate, Kung-Fu, or another the term is Shifu, or “Skilled Master’.”

“Well, what form are you teaching us, Master Clint?”

I laughed and threw my hands into the air. “All of them? None of them? In reality, I am teaching both traditional karate, as well as taekwondo. You all are belting in taekwondo, but if you were to move to a traditional karate dojo, I would expect you all to rank no more than one belt lower than you are here. This is kind of an amalgam of many arts, including some Kung-Fu that Master Dale taught me. As well as Judo, Krav Maga, and bits and pieces of others.”

One of the parents walked up and asked if that is why they could be so deadly. “Oh, no Ma’am! If you see, primarily I work on defense here. I believe that this should only be used as a last resort, and not for attack. Some attacks are part of it, yes. But I want these kids in the truest sense to be able to defend themselves. Not go around attacking others. No, mostly what I teach here is mental more than physical. I had multiple belts before I was injured, and can not do more than the most basic of movements anymore. But I can teach, and that I do. And trust me, if I ever find out any of my students is using what I teach to be a bully, I will set them straight. That, or they are out.”

And most nodded at that. One of them even asked if I had considered adding a second location, and I laughed. “Nope, there is only one of me. Mr. Simmons, I am not into this for the money. Oh, I need the money, so I can keep the doors open. But I could actually live off of my military pension. No, my taking up The Art again helped to heal me. And my teaching it to kids like this heals me even more. But if I could find another instructor like my old partner Dale, I would consider it. Once again, not for money but so we could reach more kids.”

That night I was relaxing in the tub when Kelly came home. God, she looked so hot in that short black cocktail dress. And she looked even hotter as she slipped it and her underwear off and climbed into the tub with me. And I moaned when after several minutes of kissing, she moved up and positioned me a bit, then sank down until her ass was on my thighs and I was fully inside of her.

And as she rode me in the bath, I caressed and fondled her breasts while she caressed my chest. “God Clint, I fucking love your muscles! So wide and strong, even though your arm and leg are messed up, your chest is enough to get me wet every time I see it.” After squeezing my pecs, I shivered as she started to grind herself against me, her long red fingernails tracing the muscles on my chest.

“Clint, how did you not get hurt here?”

I pulled lightly on her nipples, and Kelly arched her back, presenting them to me so I could play with them more. “I had a flack jacket on. Like a vest, but kevlar with ceramic plates inside. The little scar by my navel, that is the one piece I caught in my torso. But it is why ultimately I survived. The helmet also saved me, it was cracked and an inch long piece of steel was still stuck in it when they took me to triage.”

A few minutes later she came, sputtering how good it felt as she held me inside and pushed her hips forward and back. I had not cum yet, and she slowly stood up and stepped out of the bath, waving for me to stay in place as she took one of the towels and dried herself off. Then she reached down and helped me out of the tub, and dried me off also.

Then she took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom where she pushed me onto my back and once again climbed on top. Now I could still make love to a woman, but even I had to admit it was much easier and more enjoyable this way. I could not really hold my weight up with my arms like I used to, and even though my hips worked fine, I had to be more careful how I rested my weight on my knees.

But laying on my back? I could watch Kelly and her amazing breasts bouncing up and down and still use both hands on them, even if my right is not as good at grasping as my left hand was. And I wanted to melt when she lowered her torso onto mine and whispered that she loved me as she pumped her hips up and down, kissing me deeply and continuing to kiss me until we both reached our peaks.

But that night a week later, it fucking ruined everything. Kelly and I had been together for over a year, and I was giving some serious thought to popping the question. I was in the back working on some paperwork as Kelly was back in Jersey visiting her sister. I had just picked up the checkbook to fill out my quarterly tax check when I rolled onto the ground. I had the biggest motherfucking headache in my life, and all I saw was a blinding white light. I whimpered on the ground for about 40 seconds, wondering if I was having a stroke or something. Then, it was gone.

Even the headache, was just, gone. Like somebody had flipped a switch. And, something was wrong. My clothes had felt incredibly tight, which should not have been because as usual, I was wearing a gi. And when I felt, they were torn. The waist was busted, and I could feel that the top was split across my shoulders. What the fuck? I reached for the desk and used it to help stand, and my fucking head hit the ceiling. Thankfully acoustic tile, but once again it left me confused.

Was I dead? An actual stroke and I was now in a coma, or in the afterlife? I looked up and felt the tile dropping into place with a shower of dust. I sneezed and looked around. And things looked, weird. Brighter, and more depressing. And why in the fuck was my head so high? I am only 5’11”, this room has ceilings around 7 feet high. Why is the tile on my head?

I looked around for my cane, and as I reached out for it I stopped and stared. The sleeve was now reaching just past my elbow, and the rest of my arm was hairy as fuck. I looked back and forth between them, and both were the same. I raised my hands to face level. Hair, all the way down the back of them. And, claws? Well, almost but not quite. I looked at them and clenched my hands, pseudo-claws I guess. And I clenched them and wiggled one finger at a time.

Full movement! I looked down, the same thing. The waist had split, and my pants only hung off my calves. And as I always went commando under them, I was visible for all to see, if anybody was there.

What the fuck! I stripped off my clothes and found I was actually limping a bit as I walked to the studio. I stopped after I entered, realizing that my legs both felt fine. I was not limping because I had a limp, that was just muscle memory at work. So I started to stride forward and struck my head on one of those metal braces for the tile. I laughed, and it was deep and low. I continued to walk to the mirror, and felt so dizzy I wanted to pass out.

What in the fuck happened? I am a fucking monster! I had not been drinking, and I had not used any drugs other than pot, and that was a lifetime ago. I must be seven feet tall, more! Yes, more like eight feet. And my body was covered with this, fur? Hair? Not as thick as on an animal, more like that Ron Jeremy dude times two. Or make that four. And it covered all of me, but my palms. And it ended at my shoulders, so my neck and face was my own. Just, bigger. And looking down, holy shit!

My cock also apparently did not grow hair. And it was, well, big. I looked, easily a foot and a half, maybe two feet. And even with these oversized mitts I now had, I could barely wrap my hand around it. But it sure felt like a cock, if a cock was the size my good arm used to be. I squeezed and stroked, and the fucking thing grew some more!

I must have had some of it inside, or I was a grower and not a shower. I seemed to top out at just over two feet long. Holy shit! But I moved around, marveling that I had two good arms now, two good hands, and two good legs.

I went to the back and selected the largest gi I had. And I found some pants that fit the waist, but they were for a fat man so only went down to mid-calf. I looked through all of the tops and finally selected the largest. It barely fit the shoulders, and I could not really close it. And I sat on the ground and took a better look at my feet.

Yep, tops covered with hair, not the bottoms. And the same pseudo-claws on my toes. I scratched the sole with a finger claw, almost felt like callus. I moved to the door and actually had to squat to get through it. I stood on the front, and it was bedlam.

It was like a mortar attack had just lifted in a FOB that was full of noob POGs. I could hear sirens and screaming. And I heard a crash to the left and looked. Just in time to see the closest tower of the bridge across the freeway collapse into the river. What in the fuck was going on?

At that point, the power went out, so I took a few steps. The parking lot was asphalt but felt fine under my feet. I felt no rocks, no glass, nothing cutting into me. I looked over at my Honda, then shook my head. No way in hell I was fitting into that.

I headed back inside, and the power went off. I picked up the phone, it was dead also. I then grabbed my cell phone, and could not use the damned thing! I tried, I hit the button on the side, but could not use the damn screen! My fingers were now so fucking big, I was hitting several of the buttons at once. I found a pencil on the desk and used it to try and dial the number for Kelly’s sister, all lines were in use.

So I did the only thing I really could. I grabbed my keys from the desk, and grabbed my backpack, and headed to the door. I tried to set the alarm, but once again my fingers were so big it was pointless. So I just locked the door finally, and after looking around I started to head home.

And, it was actually relaxing. Taking long strides, for the first time in years. I was not shuffling, I was walking! But the streets were crazy. I saw a guy take one look at me, and he screamed and ran away. And I swear it was a chick I saw flying! Then a guy with flames for hair, but he was sitting on the ground and crying. Not in any pain that I saw, more in shock.

I got to my apartment, and thankfully it was single level. I actually had to fight to get inside, even on my hands and knees I barely fit through the door it was so narrow. The power was on there, so I started a pot of tea and turned on the TV.

And sure enough, I really did see the bridge collapse. Some dude they said who had lasers for eyes cut it in half and it collapsed. Maybe a hundred feared dead just from that. And the rest of the reports were just as bad. People burning, people turned into animals, people flying, it was madness. The chick telling us all this was one I had a little crush on for years. She was a lot like Kelly, but a redhead and talked like she was from Boston. Well, she was standing next to her news desk, and the top was about shoulder high on her. The camera pulled back, what the hell? She was maybe three feet tall. Her tight skirt which normally reached to her knees now covered her to her ankles.

She looked like she was, 10? No, even that is not right, as even though her blouse was now loose, it was obvious that she still had big knockers. Just, big for a ten-year-old at around four feet tall. She was trying as best she could to keep her composure, but it was obvious that it was hard for her as she was crying.

But she said one thing that struck me. This was not something local, this was nationwide! And not even the US, Toronto, Maple Leaf, and White Horse in Canada were reporting similar things. As was Mexico City and Juarez. And an unconfirmed report from Colon in Panama said a huge alligator thing was inside one of the locks.

Finally, they got another reporter there to the studio, and he held the woman and tried to calm her down. Finally, he told her to go contact her family, and he took over.

He was an old hand and had been in news for decades, as was his father before him. He took over, and quickly in a half-hour ran us through it. About an hour before, something happened. They had no idea what, but reports were coming in from all over the country. He called them mutations, and said that they seemed confined to North America, from Alaska to Panama, out to the Bahamas, but not as far as Hawaii.

And I remember feeling a chill when he took a breath and said “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a night of madness. I will be here as long as I can, but we are on generators now and we are being told to evacuate. Can you bring me the feed? Yes, as you see on the screen a man who seems to be made of fire is heading this way. He is about a mile away and moving sideways to our studio, but we have been told that if he turns this way we have to evacuate. They are prepping a mobile studio now, so if that happens I will be back as quickly as I can as we relocate to somewhere safe.”

I watched all night long, and slowly things trickled in. They even replayed the clip of the studio when it happened. The anchor girl was in the middle of a report about Congress, and she screamed. Her head fell onto the desk and she screamed, and, she just shrank. She was hysterical for about 3 minutes, with somebody from the studio trying to calm her down. And kudos to her, she took a wracking sob, then resumed broadcasting.

Say what you want, even if you do not like her politics she was as professional as she could be. She finally came back on set, still looking like a child. And she reported that she was not in pain when she started to scream, other than a splitting headache and a blinding white light.