Bloodline of the Damned

The email arrived with a cheerful ping, its subject line innocuous: "Your DNA Results Are Ready!" Maggie's finger hovered over her phone, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through her veins. She had always been curious about her ancestry, but now, faced with the reality of uncovering her genetic past, a strange unease settled in her stomach.

With a deep breath, she tapped the screen. The app opened, revealing a colorful wheel of ethnicities and percentages. Maggie skimmed through them, noting nothing particularly surprising until her eyes landed on a small, pulsing icon labeled "Genetic Variants of Interest." Frowning, she tapped it.

The screen loaded, revealing a list of medical predispositions and traits. Most were benign—a higher likelihood of freckles, a slight resistance to altitude sickness. But as she scrolled, her heart began to race. There, nestled between "Cilantro Taste Aversion" and "Caffeine Metabolism," was an entry that made her blood run cold: "Rare Genetic Mutation - CRYPT9 Gene."

Maggie's fingers trembled as she tapped for more information. The app's cheery interface seemed suddenly sinister as it explained in clinical terms: "The CRYPT9 gene mutation is extremely rare, found in less than 0.001% of the population. Its effects are not fully understood, but it has been linked to increased sensory perception and... unusual physiological changes."

She stared at the screen, her mind reeling. What did this mean? Maggie had always felt different, more attuned to the world around her. But "unusual physiological changes"? A chill ran down her spine as she recalled childhood nightmares of transforming into something... inhuman.

Desperate for answers, Maggie dove into online research. Hours slipped by as she scoured medical journals and obscure forums. The more she read, the more horrified she became. Whispers of nocturnal transformations, inhuman strength, and an insatiable hunger for raw meat peppered the accounts of others with the mutation.

As night fell, Maggie's apartment seemed to close in around her. Shadows lengthened, and every creak and groan of the building sent her heart racing. She caught her reflection in the darkened window and gasped—for a moment, she could have sworn her eyes glowed with an eerie, amber light.

A sharp pain lanced through her abdomen, doubling her over. Maggie stumbled to the bathroom, gripping the sink as waves of agony washed over her. She looked up, meeting her own gaze in the mirror, and watched in horror as her pupils elongated into feline slits.

"No," she whispered, her voice a ragged gasp. "This can't be happening."

But it was. As she watched, helpless, her canine teeth lengthened into razor-sharp points. Her nails thickened and curved into claws. A primal growl rumbled in her chest, and with it came a hunger so intense it made her dizzy.

Maggie fled the bathroom, desperate to escape the monster in the mirror. But there was no escaping what was inside her. The hunger grew, consuming her thoughts until all she could focus on was the pounding of her own heart and the tantalizing scent of her neighbors through the thin apartment walls.

She clawed at the door, leaving deep gouges in the wood as she fought against the urge to hunt. But the beast within was too strong. With a final, anguished cry that morphed into a feral roar, Maggie burst into the hallway.

The night air hit her like a drug, filled with a thousand scents she had never noticed before. She could hear the frightened whispers of her neighbors, smell their fear. It was intoxicating. She loped down the stairs on all fours, her humanity slipping away with each bound.

As she emerged onto the moonlit street, Maggie caught her distorted reflection in a parked car's window. The creature staring back was no longer recognizable as human. Patches of coarse fur sprouted from her skin, her face elongated into a bestial muzzle. And those eyes—glowing orbs of hunger and predatory intelligence.

A scream pierced the night, snapping Maggie's attention to a young woman frozen in terror on the sidewalk. For a heartbeat, a flicker of humanity surfaced in Maggie's mind. But then the hunger surged, drowning out all reason.

She lunged, reveling in her newfound power as her claws sank into soft flesh. The woman's screams turned to gurgles, then silence. Maggie feasted, the hot blood quenching a thirst she never knew she had.

As sirens wailed in the distance, Maggie raised her blood-soaked muzzle to the moon and howled. The sound was filled with triumph, yes, but also mourning for the human she had once been. For she knew now that this was her legacy—a monstrous birthright hidden in her very DNA.

She melted into the shadows, leaving behind the remnants of her old life. The hunt had only just begun.