As you fall into the heavy woods, depicted in the picture, you look around in a panic to find a way out, but to no avail.
Sudenly, the joints of your hand explode with pain. You look down at your hand as the bones crackle and pop, the form of your hand twisting, growing gnarled.
Your formerly finely manicured nails grow at an alarming rate, darkening and sharpening into claws. You see grey hairs poking their way forth from the skin on the
back of your altered hand, more sprouting to join them.
The shaggy growth spreads up your arm as you fall to your knees in a cold sweat. Your unchanged hand grips the fabric of your shirt, pulling frantically at the
buttons. Frustration builds, and your hand tightens about the shirt and pulls in one frenzied motion, the shirt coming off in tatters, a strange burst of strength tearing it
apart as you pull. Your chest heaves in the moonlight, your breasts exposed as an intense fever takes you.
The hairs on your hand, already having spread up your forearm is thickening, becoming what can only be described as thick grey fur. You are wracked with pain
as the change is mirrored on your other hand, and arm. Your waist length dark hair is shot through with silver grey at the temples. Fine white hairs sprout across
your chest, quickly growing thicker and lengthening until it forms a ruff of ivory fur just above your breasts. Tufts of grey fur protrude from your cheeks, and your
ears shape themselves to points at the tips. Your back snaps as your vertebrae realign, protruding slightly just beneath the skin. Dark grey hairs blossom across
your upper back and thicken until they form a massive mound of fur upon your back. A lump juts out of your tail bone as your spine grows, building a pressure in
the seat of your pants.
You scream for help, noticing that your voice is nothing more but a growl. you stare at the white moon, with tears in your eyes, your pupils dilate , your brown eyes
turning shades of gold and green. Your lips black and damp, your canine teeth are lengthening, sharpening, as four yellowed bestial fangs protrude from your
mouth.
The pressure in the seat of your pants rises to a crescendo, punctuated by a wet ripping sound as the fabric splits. You look down just as your newly formed bushy
tail falls between your legs. You cower in a whine as the pain overakes you and, your breath shallow and ragged, you pass out.
Hours later, you awake, knowing what has happened to you, you cry at the moon, tears palling from your golden eyes acompanying your heart breaking howl.
Your humanity slips away, replaced by the savage impulses of what you have become, a sensual union of woman and wolf. A werewolf.
On the other side, back in the hallway, the painting now has a picture of a creature not quite human, yet not quite animal either, and definitely female.
In the forest, the newly transformed she-wolf considered her next action...