Duncan started by gripping Esmeralda tight in his free arm, as they down the highway, under the light of the full moon. She leaned on his shoulder. "Turn that way," she whispered, pointing down a mostly untravelled road through the woods.
Duncan turned down the long rough road, even through he was taking Esmeralda home he felt good. He had a fucking good time, and he was probably gonna have another fucking good time before the night was over. The moon was shining down throught the trees right at him, and for some reason he felt even more exilerated. That is before the itching started to get out of control.
Esmeralda sensed his fidgeting, and smirked as she looked at him. "Feeling funny, Dunc?"
"I'm OK," he lied, gripping her tighter. He was sweating heavily, he felt like he was being cooked in an over. He opened the windows, even though it was a cool fall night. The itching was starting to drive him insane, he felt like stopping right then and scrachting. He felt as if he was wearing a wool blanket or something. Not only that but his clothing had become tight all of a sudden, in all the wrong places.
"You sure, Wolfie?"s she asked him slyly. He had just given in, taken his arm from around her, and was furiously scratching his chest.
"Yeah," Duncan rumbled. "I'm O.K, just itchy." He winced. He just got a toothache.
"Stop the car, and look in the mirror," said Esmeralda, as they came up to a clearing in the woods, where the moon was shining brightly upon the deserted road.
Not knowing why he was doing it, Duncan stopped the car. "I can't this damn itching," said Duncan using both his now noticably hairy hands to scratch himself with all his might.
Esmeralda gave a little a nip on his ear, and brought down the mirror. "You see Dunc?" she asked.
Duncan started. He saw himself, with large, pointed ears, with hair at the tips. He really needed a shave. He looked like a man who hadn't shaved in a week. The hair went down his neck, to meet what looked like a thick mat of hair coming from under his shirt. This on a guy who only had a few chest hairs a few hours before. He stopped scratching a moment to look at his hands. The backs were covered with the same thick black hair. His nails had grown out to be sharper than his dates. He felt his feet pressing against the sides of his shoes. They were bigger, longer, definitely.
"Wha - a . . . ." Duncan started to speak, but noticed his canines. They were growing into fangs, sticking out further than his other, unnaturally sharp white teeth, and irritating the sides of his slightly swollen tongue. "What the hell's happening?" Duncan blurted out to Esmeralda, fear in his eyes, panic in his newly formed unibrow. He hardly even looked human, he sure didn't look like the kid he was before.
"Shhh," said Esmeralda seductively, giving a kiss on the still human lips, and hugging the beefier but still human neck of the her barely human young man. "It's okay, boy. It's okay, Dunc. Look at the moon."
Duncan eased by her speech a little, looked at the moon, thinking. Thoughts of gypsy's, wolves, and curses that had crept into his mind, that he would of laughed at any other time, that in desperation he had been thinking, disappeared. He saw the moon, he had a hot girl. Involunarily he felt like doing something. He lifted his neck, and howled, his first howl, he howled long and loud at the moon, "AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"