Marsha felt her bloodlust rising; she could hear the contempt in their snickers. It wasn't just contempt at his drunkenness, but at the mere idea that werewolves exist. She'd argued at the colony that they should no longer hunt in shadows, remaining a mere figment of legend. The doctor had kept the colony contained, preventing her from rallying them, but now, he was dead; they all were.
She got up, heading for the ladies' bathroom, feeling several sets of drunken eyes upon her. She couldn't help but smile, knowing that if they knew what was to come, they'd run screaming out the door. She didn't want that. Escape wouldn't feed her bloodlust.
Though the drunken man, Pat, was no more worthy of survival than any of them, it was his night to live. He recognized her kind for what they were- predators, and this time it would save his life.
She shut herself in the small bathroom-she couldn't help but be rather pleased at the privacy this afforded. Noone would see her change, and let out a scream of warning to save the rest. She smiled in the mirror, pulling her hairband out, letting her hair hang free. She slid her dress down and slipped her shoes off, standing naked in front of the mirror.
She smiled at her perfect body in the mirror, the reflection smiling back. And then she shivered slightly, releasing her animal side. Her eyes flashed, becoming filled with the malevolent intelligence of her werewolf strength. She curled her lips back, growling and exhaling, her canine teeth elongating into fangs.
Her ears began to grow pointed and longer as well, pushing through her long black hair.
She began to buck and writhe, bracing herself on the sink as fur blossomed, streaking all across her body. Her forehead thickened, and fur ran wild across her cheekbones and neck. She began to thicken and gain muscle, though not so much as her brothers did when they transformed, or any of the males, for that matter. Her nails grew and grew longer, becoming deadly talons, digging furrows into the counter of the sink.
She heaved and panted as her spine popped and bowed, staring into the mirror as her face stretched, becoming fully lupine, muzzle growing, stretching, popping.
Soon, the creature's transformatory spasms stopped. Aside from the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor, anyone would be hard pressed to recognize the beast in the room as Marsha. She let out another growl as she reached for the bathroom doorknob, ready to unleash hell upon the bar. There was one more momentary pause as she considered what she was about to do. Somewhere in her mind, something nagged that this would only lead to her downfall.