Charlotte smiled broadly at the sensations of change. She didn’t know why it was happening, and didn’t care.
Purposefully, she reached to the belt of her jeans, and yanked as hard as she could. Her muscles tensed, tearing the mesh into useless frayed ends. The tension
stayed, and multiplied, adding mass to her frame as her bones thickened beneath her slowly furring skin. She grew in height and strength, and would stand nearly
eight feet tall when complete.
She’d dreamed of something like this for years. Cecilia Devereaux, sometimes called Moonhowler in honor of her spiritual rebirth, was her altar ego, a private
investigator gifted with lycanthropy. How often had she dreamed of becoming like her, woman and wolf, and now it was coming to pass.
She growled as her thickening hands easily pulled the denim apart at the stitching. Tapering nails dug into the fabric, curling into it as she pulled the useless rags
from her savage figure. Strands of rich brown hair were already crawling through her pores, merging with the thick mat of pubic hair that now ringed her vagina.
Charlotte thought of how heated she got after writing about Cecilia, and how long she needed to seek release every time. Now that she was like her, she could not
dissuade herself from slipping a clawed finger into her quivering slit. She wanted release, and change, and damn the consequences.
She howled with the touch of her claw, loud and vibrant in the night air. Instinctively, she knew it would bring her changes about more quickly, and she howled
over and over, drowning herself in sexual and lycanthropic rapture. She crushed her swelling breasts with a leathern palm, alternating between her larger human
breasts and the two new sets of slowly budding nipples below them.
Her stretching feet forced her to her knees. Her nails curled and thickened into strong claws, molding into even positions to accommodate the positioning of her
dewclaw. The fur swirled and spread rapidly now, covering her legs and ass in a thick pelt. The shaggy line that grew up through her cleavage spread along her
shoulders and flowed along her arms, covering down to the backs of her paw-like hands.
The she-wolf’s attention fixated on the moon, and she lost herself in its glow as her face pulsed and throbbed. The prickling of fur on her face enthralled her, and
she licked her lips at the sensations. Her masturbation continued as she slipped a second clawed finger inside her wider wolfish vagina, howling at the penetration.
The cartilage of her ear tugged and expanded, pulling the pointed tip through her waist-length mane. She felt a tugging at her jaw, and opened her mouth wide to
invite it, her fangs gleaming from dribbling strands of her now-infectious saliva. Her nose slowly flattened, blackening as it drew slowly forward with the rest of her
face.
Climax was imminent, and with it, her rebirth. She pawed her body with wild abandon, delighting in the feel of being pulled in several directions at once. Her
smaller breasts were now extending, furring over slightly as nerves in her coccyx formed and connected. Furry skin above her rump rolled itself into a small nub,
increasing in size and density as it unfurled into a lush tail. Her jaw line continued to force itself out, and she howled again to encourage its growth. Her entire face
sloped into its true shape, pulling her conical ears to the crest of her skull as her mouth grew into a lovely lupine muzzle. Every tooth became a lethal dagger as the
werewolf opened her bright eyes.
The final changes rushed to her vagina as she reeled in orgasm, howling lustfully into the night.
At last, she was complete. The werewolf rose to her hind paws, standing tall and proud in the moonlight.
Cecilia had been her dream. Now, she was her own dream.
Moonhowler dropped to all fours and ran, seeking her mate.
Princess Consort curled into Queen Swiftfang’s furry chest; nuzzling her with the beautiful muzzle she had been given. “Will all our new pack sisters be as beautiful
as us?”
The Queen nodded. “My spell will make them in our image, female and lupine merged seamlessly.”
The Princess of werewolves growled in delight. She eagerly waited for the moment of the mass howling. The spells would soon descend…
Terry ran, aimlessly and panicked, yet he had no idea if he was making headway. Hell, he didn’t even know what direction he was moving in! Fatigue settled in,
and he stopped to rest. His black locks settled across his face, matting his goatee with sweat.
Charlotte was turning into a werewolf. It was nuts, even though he’d imagined it for years, but it was happening. He had to admit, he always enjoyed the fantasy
about mating as much as she did. It hadn’t been as strong a desire as hers, but it was still pretty cool to think about. He remembered the fun he had sculpting the
statue of Cecilia, and the way doing it delighted Charlotte to no end.
That was all he really wanted, to be happy with her, to love her as unconditionally as he always had, for the rest of his life. He remembered the box in his pocket,
with the engagement ring inside, that he hadn’t had the chance to give her yet.
The glow of the moon caught his eye, paralleled by shooting stars of purest white light sundering the infinite night. This place of endless full moonlight had changed
Charlotte somehow, made her at least partially into an animal. Judging by the montage of howling, she had surrendered herself to the transformation. Saddened as
he was, he understood.
Mate or food. Mate or food. Her last words ricocheted through his mind. Did she really want to devour him?
Mate or food.
He thought of her, imagined her body with fur, and a tail, and a curling muzzle, doing everything they enjoyed together. Walking, creating, talking, and simply being.
Could she still be Charlotte Robinson, even in the body of a hybrid wolf? Could they still be together, somehow?
He heard footsteps nearing, quiet as predators. It must be Charlotte, he thought. He longed to see her, as much as when she was human.
He felt a stirring, and looked down at his still-exposed crotch. He was amazed to see himself becoming erect.
Terry smiled. He knew what he wanted.
“Mate,” he whispered with the wind, peeling away his remaining clothing. Naked and aroused, he waited for her, awaiting the fate she would decide for them both.