Jen knew what had to be done. She couldn't run; Kyle would be too fast once he finished changing- he'd overtake her in moments. She couldn't scream for Sam; even if he heard her, Kyle could rip her to shreds before Sam would even be close enough to help.
Kyle fell to the ground as his back bowed upwards with a sharp snapping sound as his vertebrae repositioned themselves. Jen wasn't sure if she could get herself aroused, but she had to try. Anything less would be suicide.
Quickly, she pulled her shorts down around her ankles, kicking them off as she saw Kyle's snout beginning to stretch from his face. Her hand raced down her panties, fingers stretching towards her labia even as the struggles of Kyle's transformation began to subside and the werewolf focused its eyes upon her.
Her fingers reached their intended destination and she gasped as she rubbed herself furiously to release her own inner beast.
The werewolf Kyle raised itself up on its hind legs and took a menacing step forward, howling a triumphant howl and seeming to laugh. But instead of the fearful reaction he had been expecting, the Kyle-werewolf received an entirely different one.
Jen had felt herself moisten just as the Kyle-werewolf had risen to its hind legs, just in the nick of time. Her heartbeat had come faster, and she felt the first tickle of fur beginning to grow on her legs and around her vagina. She answered the Kyle-werewolf's howl with a laugh from her fang-filled mouth, and met its baleful glare with a mocking look from her own now-yellow eyes. As she once more plunged a finger into herself, she simply said to it, " You're not the only one who knows about triggers, Kyle," in a voice already deepening and acquiring a husky tone.