Snippet #2602830

Dex sat with his gang around him. They were talking. He was half listening. His arm was killing him. Right on the shoulder, The fucking dog jumped onto him. He had to deal with running away then, BAM, dog was on him. He emptied a full mag from a 9mm into it but it just ran off. He was only there for recruitment. Everyone in the room were talking about something. Dex stood up and walked out with his pack of cigarettes. Lit the cigarette and began to smoke. Enhale. Exhale. Time began to slow as he relaxed. Stress from the past year as other rival gangs got bigger and police got stronger. It wasn't looking good for him or his gang. His fingers started to burn. He thought he had smoked to the point of the flame. Dropping the cig and stepping it out his hand didn't feel better. Actually it was worse. His nails were getting longer. And sharper. His face began to burn, then his bite mark. He felt as if he was expanding. Arms became thicker. Back began to hunch. His clothes started to tear. "What the fuck?!?!" He practically screamed. It wasn't long before he was on all 4's not knowing what was going on. His clothes were ruined.