You lurch to your feet, your boots discarded moments earlier, your limbs urged on by the chant whose beat pounds in your veins and rings in your ears as they twitch, tapering to points and poking impishly from your thick hair. Your toenails click against the stone floor, somehow audible, palpable to you amidst the din. Your halting steps grow more fluid as you venture forth, the call of what you are becoming feeling more natural by the moment.
Your almost luminous gaze travels to Greta. Smoldering, fire-haired Greta, out on the floor snarling like a beast, always so unashamed about what she wants. Something about that appeals to you very much as you cross the distance between you, your feet broadening as your heels rise. Your shirt strains at the seams, stretched over your growing frame as freshly-sprouted golden fur spills from the neckline in mimicry of the jacket you left behind.
Greta licks her fangs at your approach, but doesn't remain coy for long. As soon as you're within arm's reach she lunges, clapping a leathery palm to your shoulder to pull you into a hungry, frenzied kiss. The sensation of this while the change is still upon you both is electric, and the reverie of it almost causes you to miss the approach of another presence...