Mepple

He was once large, repellent, and believed in his own superiority.

On first meeting him anyone would have been impressed by this loquacious, evidently companionable, bladder full of words and points of view that made the more open-minded cringe.

There he used to go, admiring his reflection in shop windows as though he had shares in every other one. That might have been true a decade ago, but any charisma associated with power had dwindled away with the influence the privileged felt that they had a right to. The pompous man had never come to terms with being a nonentity, possibly because no one wanted to hear how it had happened. Oddly enough, they might have been interested, if only for the wrong reason. Now there was a vacuous look in those rheumy eyes, as though some other entity was sharing the same space.

Mepple had produced books on ancient history, edited and written articles for prestigious publications, and mixed with Eton-educated intelligentsia like him. This and dealing with less privileged mortals who were obliged to work for a living had been so condescending it was a wonder someone hadn't hit him, but he had always somehow managed to get away with it.

So what did happen to drop this important man into genteel penury and account for that distant look in his eyes? Bad investment? Family death duties? Run-in with the law?

Nothing so pedestrian.

He had made the mistake of trying to impress the wrong person.

Unaware of how repellent he was so many years ago, and when he looked more affluent, he had made an attempt to engage an attractive young woman in conversation.

That same self-regard also resulted in him failing to notice that much younger and more suitable men were deliberately avoiding her as she navigated the hotel lounge. They probably weren't sure why, but those huge, dark eyes that would have been appealing on an antelope were too large, the ivory skin was too taut, and the voluptuous smile bordered on the glassy.

Pumped up by his own ego, how could this amazing creature resist Mepple?

His first approach went well enough: drinks on the hotel patio as the sun went down, and then an evening meal. After that, before he could make the inevitable proposition, she invited him for a stroll under the brightly shining moon. Had he been aware of why most women avoided him, alarm bells might have rung then, but full moons held no terror for him, nor did he believe in vampires or zombies. They were the domain of his intellectual colleagues who eulogised Tolkien and conversed in Elfish. Mepple's was a self-assured world where the fantasist and gullible had no place... unfortunately for him.

As they strolled, there was a rainbow halo around the moon as a veil of mist passed over it.

Then it started to turn red.

Had Mepple been interested in astronomy he would have realised that this was no eclipse where the Earth's shadow turned it into a blood moon. He paid it no attention, more focused on the tall, gorgeous woman loping beside him.

Loping?

Yes, her stride was becoming more animal by the moment, though what sort of animal he was unable to fathom. Having an exotic creature grace him with its company further excited Mepple's libido.

Were those finely formed features becoming just a little cat like? Or perhaps his imagination was running away with what strange delights the night had to offer.

She turned her huge, animal eyes to gaze into his expectant ones, which had obviously not been anticipating the object of his desire to turn into a dark, sinister cloud which enveloped him.

The transformation was too sudden for Mepple’s alcohol dulled reflexes to take in. Even someone with an imagination could not have anticipated any shape-shifter having designs on their body, especially one like his.

But there was a reason for taking over this bladder of self regard. The creature needed to shed the voluptuous woman's body which was beginning to reveal signs of the entity inhabiting it, and move in different circles where its host would be kept at a safe distance and dismissed as unwanted company.

That would give it time to seek a more suitable host.

The husk of the beautiful woman was sloughed off as Mepple became its, strangely, unresisting host.

Perhaps it was an improvement.