So now James was totally naked in his apartment, thrilled to be free of those ill-fitting fabric shackles! What was he going to be hiding, anyway? His new werewolf body was going to be gruff and sexy like in the movies. He'd simply wait for the rest of his change and leap out into the night, ruling the roost like in those dollar-store romance novels. Fuck everyone who picked on him in high school! He'd give 'em a good old-fashioned horror-flic howl and send them scurrying back to their puny houses like the little bitches they are. Maybe he'd even drop by the circus, pose for some selfies, and stop by that magic tent to thank the sorceress who gave him this gift. What could go wrong?
So James opened a few beers went back to his bedroom and turned on his little TV to watch the werewolf/vampire movie marathons on The Glamour Channel. He sniffed around on his bed in a few circles before plopping himself down to watch Tom Defancy romance Kortni Lust as a steaming muscle hunk by day and ravish her as a majestic beast by night. James got hairier as the afternoon got warmer, and so after some time he had noticed that he'd started to pant. It was kind of hard to miss when his tongue was hanging down past his chin and dripping spittle on his shaggy forearm. James's dribbly pink mouth-flap didn't seem like the most romantic thing in the world at first glance, but panting is the canine way, and sacrifices must be made to become a fantasy sex symbol.
James's tail was getting to be far more than a little knob of muscle poking out from his derriere as the hours wore along. It was longer than his hand by the end of the first movie, and it was thrashing around with a mind of his own at times in whichever direction James's emotional repertoire decided to send it. James wondered if it might be somewhat embarrassing to have a sturdy thick appendage sticking out from his rear and giving away his true feelings at inopportune moments. The big bad alpha love interest doesn't accidentally swat his supermodel girlfriend with his tail in the bedroom or swing it like the puppies in the pet food commercials at snack time. And he certainly shouldn't tuck his tail like a shelter dog when the vampire villain shows up! When it passed ten inches in length, he tried to keep it still as much as possible, but that was much easier said than done.
Nothing made James happier, though, than the look of his developing claws. They were worth all the inconveniences of becoming more like a dog! They were actually kind of small and not as sharp as you'd think they would be, not some kind of Wolverine-like hand-knives if you know what I mean. They were just your run-of-the-mill, round-ended canine paw-hooks, not the largest or the sharpest or the scariest claws any means. But they were REAL claws, and they were HIS claws, bringing him that much closer to being a well-toned lupine creature of the night!