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GTS Syndrome Vol 2 Ch 11: Time Of Wanting!
🕑 Added 2025-08-28 21:49:23 +0000 UTCI sat there, arms wrapped around my knees, staring into the fire like it held the answer to everything that was broken between us.
I didn't want to look at her—not again. Not after what happened.
Penelope was on the other side of the flames, her shadow looming against the desert stone behind her. The same hands that once cradled me like a fragile thing had nearly crushed me tonight. No, not nearly—intended to. She was really going to break me. In more ways than just the body.
And the worst part? I don't think I'd ever be the same again.
I tried to keep my breathing steady, tried not to let the trembling in my fingers get any worse. But it wasn't cold. It was fear. Real, honest-to-Gods fear.
Was I right all along? I thought to myself, eyes flickering in the firelight.
The first time I met her, back in those muddy woods on the edge of Endsby, I felt it. Deep in my gut, that primal warning—this one's dangerous. I saw it in her eyes. Something raw. Unpredictable. I ignored it. I wanted to ignore it. Because I needed someone. Because she saved me.
Because I wanted to believe she was good.
And maybe she was. Maybe she still is.
But after tonight... things can't go back. Not fully. Not like they were.
"Braden..."
Her voice. Low. Careful. Like she was afraid she'd break me just by saying my name.
I looked up, slowly. She was leaning forward just slightly, towering over the fire like a statue in mourning. The glow reflected in her brown eyes, eyes that—thank the stars—were no longer red. No madness. Just... sorrow.
"I'm sorry," she said, voice thick with guilt. "For what happened. For what I... tried to do."
She extended her hand slowly toward me, palm up.
"Stay away!!!"
The words tore out of me before I could think. My voice cracked like lightning, and she froze instantly. Her hand hung midair—uncertain, wounded, unmoving.
Penelope flinched. She actually flinched.
"What was that?!" I snapped, louder now, the pain and fear boiling over. I stood up, my legs weak but holding. "Huh?! What the hell was that?!"
She turned her face away, jaw tight, lips trembling like she was trying to hold something in.
"Don't turn away from me!" I shouted. "You were gonna break me, Penelope! I saw it! I felt it! That wasn't just rage—that was something else! Your eyes—they were glowing red again!"
Her gaze slowly returned to me, but she said nothing. Not yet.
"It all happened before," I continued, breath coming fast, chest burning. "On the first night, when everything burned!" I yelled. "When every woman on the planet began to change!"
Her silence told me she knew I was right. She didn't ask for clarification. She just... accepted it.
"Okay," she said at last. Her voice was quiet. Tired. "Okay... I'll tell you."
She sat down slowly, folding her legs beneath her. She seemed smaller somehow, less like the towering force that shook the ground and more like a person haunted by something she couldn't control.
Penelope took a deep breath.
"We giantesses... we call it The Wanting."
"The... Wanting?" I repeated, cautious.
She nodded, looking into the fire.
"It's something that happens to all of us. Not always. But when we get too angry... or too emotional... something in us snaps. It's like a berserker state. Raw. Pure. It's powered by our desires—our instincts, really. The things we want but can't have." She looked at me then, really looked, and I swear I saw something deeper than regret in her eyes.
"In that state," she continued, "we're stronger. Faster. We lose the limiters our bodies naturally keep in place—those little safeguards that stop us from ripping our own muscles apart. It's... pure force. Pure will. But it's dangerous. To everyone."
I stayed quiet, listening. My heart still pounded, but I wanted to understand.
"In the Wanting, we don't think straight," Penelope said. "We don't listen to reason. We don't feel pain. We'll even turn on our own allies if they stand in our way. Some of us can control it—veterans, warriors who've mastered themselves. But most of us... we avoid it at all costs."
I licked my lips, my throat suddenly dry. "But it still happened to you. Tonight."
She didn't look at me. She nodded.
"Why?"
"There are times," she said, finally meeting my eyes, "when we don't have a choice."
I felt a chill go down my spine. "When?"
Penelope turned her head upward and gazed at the sky.
And I followed.
The moon hung above us, massive and heavy, nearly full. Almost glowing.
"During the night of the full moon," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's when it happens. That is the Time of Wanting."
My stomach twisted. My knees went a little weak. I sank back down to the ground.
"And that's tomorrow night," I muttered.
Penelope nodded.
"Yes."
Well... fantastic.
The one person who's supposed to protect me turns into a wild, murderous berserker under moonlight and we've got about twenty-four hours until her next episode.
Perfect.
And here I thought running from giant scorpions and bandits was bad.
This? This was worse.
Penelope kept her eyes on the moon a moment longer, the light glinting off her cheek like a tear that never quite fell. Then she looked back down at me—those brown eyes of hers tired now, like someone who hadn't slept in years.
Her voice came quiet. Measured. "The closer it gets... the harder it becomes to stay in control."
I didn't say anything. I just sat there, watching her, feeling like the ground beneath me had shifted all over again.
Penelope exhaled slowly, and then tilted her head slightly, her gaze falling to meet mine. "There," she said. "That's the truth."
And I believed her.
But that didn't mean I knew what to do with it.
