WereMac

>"I find it, at times, difficult to recount what I've experienced since that event so long ago."
>"It seems to be nothing more than a bedtime story some days, others hold it to be a maelstrom of vividity, the events that led up to my obscure condition playing out before me as if I was a mere bystander."
>"I still feel that ragged breath landing upon the nape of my neck, those growls within my ears that reverberated off of my very soul as if it were some discordant, abysmal instrument of the ether. The blood as well, every rolling crimson rivulet that dripped down my side as I laid panting in the darkened thickets. I shudder to think just wh-"
>A loud knocking sounded upon the wooden door that separated Big Macintosh's room from the main hallway outside.
>"Big Mac, ya'll best be ready for dinner! Granny Smith'll be mighty sore if'n ya don't eat it all hot!"
>Hurriedly the red stallion spat out the pen he had in his mouth, shaking it slightly before tucking it firmly away within a tightly bound journal. He stuffed the journal beneath the mattress, far deeper than Applebloom's curious hooves could reach.
"Eeyup!"
>His signature line. He never was one to talk much to anypony, save for the occasional outburst.
>The sound of his sister's hooves trotting away made the stallion heave a great sigh. He cast a glance back to his mattress, the hiding spot of his journal. It would have to wait, for the time being.
>The creak of a door and the heavy thuds of hooves signaled his arrival into the downstairs, Big Mac taking in the activity that buzzed among his family.
>As usual, Apple Bloom was talking about the latest plans for her and her little club. They were certainly boisterous, but at least had their hearts in the right places. Most of the time, anyway.

>Applejack was listening to her sister, albeit in an obviously absentminded manner. Every so often, a mumbled. "Yeah." or "Uh-huh." came from the mare. To most watching, this would be quite comical. Big Macintosh had seen the spectacle far too many times, only finding the occasional chuckle from it on a particularly bad day.
>"...and then, Scootaloo was gonna leap right outta the tree onto the trampoline!"
>"Mhm."
>"But right before she got herself out of the branches, Zecora came and told us all to get out of Everfree Forest."
>"Yep."
>"Ah don't see what the big deal is, it was just a 20 hoof drop. Scootaloo would have been just fine. We could have earned our cutie marks."
>"Apple Bloom, go sit down for dinner, 'fore it all goes cold. Ah'm sure ya'll are gonna get another chance to try for yer cutie marks, but this dinner here is only going to last so long."
>Apple Bloom took her rightful place at the Apple family table, already taking a slice of pie and continuing her tale between bites. Nopony seemed to pay her much mind, but she wasn't showing any signs of slowing down. As the Apples gathered around the table, Applejack of course took to speaking with Big Macintosh.
>"So how was the chores today, Big Mac? Everything go okay?"
"Eeyup."
>"Nothin' too hard for ya'll, ah assume?"
"Eenope."
>"Ya'll sure?"
"Eeyup."
>The typical conversation at the Apple family table. Eventually, the meal drew to a close, ending on the usual notes of Granny Smith regaling the family with a tale from her younger years as a mare. Everypony at the table found themselves listening with respectful silence until the elder mare had finished. The family got up to excuse themselves, with Big Mac taking the dishes to the sink. Thursday nights were always kitchen duty for the stallion.
>"Ah'll see ya'll tomorrow, Big Mac. Bright and early!"
"Eeyup."
>"G'night Big Mac! Ah'm sure we'll all get that trampoline stunt next time!"
"Eeyup."
>"Sleep well when ya get there!"
"Eeyup."

>Then there it was at last. Silence, blessed and unbroken. It was short lived as the solitary clatter of dishes and running water drowned it out, but it was welcome for it's fleeting moment. The dishes were cleaned and washed, leftovers packaged and sealed properly, and every utensil put back in it's proper place.
>As the large stallion worked, he could feel that all-too-familar change within his body. That burning urge, that primal and altogether unsettling fury. Big Macintosh shook himself as he felt his coat beginning to bristle. It wouldn't be long before the transformation came to to it's apex.
>The stallion took himself, silently but swiftly, up the stairs and into his bedroom. As he had done so many times before, the pillows and blankets were tossed and wrapped in such a manner as to emulate his sleeping form. He stepped out of the room and quietly stole down the stairs, feeling his chest heave as he panted.
>The stumble out into the front of the apple family home left Big Macintosh on the ground, groaning and shaking in the dirt. The Change was always painful, although less than it was at the beginning. The twisting and cracking of bone as it warped and shaped itself into a large size. The tearing of the stallion's gums as canines sprouted forth in his maw. It all came together in a grotesque concert, the pain crashing in waves over the stallion. In time, it subsided. What felt like hours had only been, in reality, five minutes. But the pain made time go so much slower.
>It took him a few moments to clear his head of the throbbing, Big Mac looking down to appraise his current condition. Paws, claws, and bright red, bushy fur were in place of his hooves and coat. A quick feel of his mouth revealed sharpened, deadly canines.
"Eeyup..."
>This was as it always had been since the incident. Being like this always brought back the memories. The large wolf padded his way past the orchard, lost in his thoughts as he let his newly formed paws guide him.

...

>It had been a few years ago, during zap apple season. They had all been behind with production that year, and Applejack had to reluctantly go assist Granny Smith with the processing, leaving Big Macintosh alone in the orchard.
>It wasn't any bother to the stallion, however. He could handle himself fine and dandy out there in the middle of the orchard. The zap apples were ripe, and the harvest needed to be completed quickly.
>The work had gone a bit slower than expected, but it didn't deter Big Mac. His focus was complete, a sort of tunnel vision that locked on to the next zap apple tree. This kept him at a steady pace, at the very least.
>The harvest was never fully completed, however. Perhaps if Big Macintosh hadn't been so focused, he would have noticed the large beast that had been approaching at dusk. Maybe he would have had time to react and gallop back home, or at least enough time to daze it and get out unscathed.
>As it was, the attack was swift and silent, and left Big Mac sprawled out on the ground. If it hadn't been for Applejack coming to check on him and warding off the large wolf, Big Macintosh wouldn't be around right now.
>The injuries had been minor enough to not cause permanent damage, but more than serious enough to warrant treatment. Big Macintosh was forced to stay in the Ponyville Hospital for over a month, fighting off intense fevers and chills intermingled with bouts of convulsions and seizures. But after a that time, they faded. The doctors had no idea what to make of the strange illness that possessed Big Mac, but they sent him home without complaint. A healthy pony was always a blessing.

...

>Big Macintosh crossed the threshold to the forest, padding slowly as he flared his nostrils and inhaled. He could feel that urge to track and hunt welled up within him, pulsing and growing stronger. As his scent caught a living creature, he began to make a beeline towards it.

...

>The return back to Sweet Apple Acres had been one of celebration. A party thrown by Pinkie Pie and the rest of the apples, and one to remember as well. The warm welcome home was a fond one indeed. But the events that night turned south very quickly.
>The first transformation was the worst. It wasn't the normal kind of pain, not like the transformations that the stallion has since learned to handle. It was mind numbing, blackout pain. A pain that made one deaf to the world and numb to all sensations safe for fire that erupted along the nerves.
>The shock and horror that he felt as he awoke the next morning covered in the blood of a goat was enough to leave Big Mac retching. His breath reeked of meat and his coat was matted with slick, dark vitae. It had been a traumatizing event, and one that he had hoped would never experience again.
>The next night had been the same, as well as the night after, and so on. This lasted for months, leaving Big Macintosh a mess to the rest of his family. It had been noticeable, and even resulted in Applejack forcing the stallion to take a week off. But still the transformations continued only dying down in frequency after a year's time. Currently they sat at once a week, held at bay through willpower alone.

...

>The scent was closer now. He could smell it. He could smell their flesh, he could practically taste the coppery flavor of their blood upon his lips. He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't hungry for the kill. He'd long ago gotten over the revulsion of death, finding that it needed to be embraced. Big Mac slowed as he came to a small creek, eyeing the doe near the center. His fur bristled and muscles coiled as he readied himself.

>The kill was swift and brutal. He was sure the doe had never seen him coming. The impact of that large, furred fury most likely threw the doe into shock. It only took a matter of moments to kill the creature and start slaking his own hunger.
>The blood heated his throat, the flesh soothed his aching stomach. The crunch of bones filled the air as he tore into the doe, the feast cooling that incessant, primal need. He quivered as he fed upon the corpse, finally falling over into the stream. The cool water rolled around Big Macintosh's feral body, washing blood away from his muzzle and paws.
>Minutes crept on into hours as dark clouds hung over the forest canopy. The shift back into a pony finally came, and with it, a relief more than anything. The shift back was never painful. It felt proper and natural, something that felt right. As he came to his original form, the daze of adrenaline began to wear on him. The taste of copper filled the stallion's mouth as he began the long stumble back to the Apple family home.
>The blood came easily off his hooves and out of his coat, the stream having helped him immensely. Big Mac stumbled up towards his room, finally bringing himself into his bed. His muscles ached and his head throbbed, sending him quickly into his slumber.

...

>It wasn't until he was fast asleep that Granny Smith trotted into his room. Slowly and carefully she slid a bound journal and pen beneath the mattress of the slumbering stallion, making a silent trot out of the room and shutting the door.