Risk Giving In

Thinking about it for a moment, you realize time may not be on anyone's side here, let alone yours. You don't know how bad things might be getting on the lower floors. You have a way to find Allegra, and once you've found her she should be able to point out if you start acting strange.

Standing in the doorway near the stairwell, you calm yourself for a moment before sniffing at the air around you. Apricot body wash, there. You're sure it's her, so you start to follow the trail. It's easier than you thought, but you hunch forward a bit as you track down that sweet smell. Something about this feels right, stalking... no, finding your friend. Your frizzy red hair falls in your face as you prowl down the hall, draping a little lower than you're used to.

You sniff at the doorways to a few exhibits as you pass. She's been to a couple of them, but the scent continues on. You let out a snarl of frustration. You find yourself somewhat stiff from hunching over so you take a break and lean against the hallway wall, stretching. Your joints pop audibly, and when your posture settles your jeans and the sleeves of your hoodie come up short on your limbs.

"...huh," you mumble, looking at your exposed ankles and wrists in puzzlement.

Shrugging it off, you reach up into your hair to scratch at an itch behind your ear. It takes a moment to part that unruly red jungle, and once you brush it aside you find it swaying heavy and thick along your back, as well as pooling atop the suddenly prominent shelf of your breasts. The itch is still there though, so you scratch behind your twitching ear, the edge of it warming before your fingertips find a fleshy point there. Blinking in surprise, you reach up to feel your other ear, equally elfin.

Or perhaps more accurately wolven.

Like Lilith's.

Maybe the girl was right. Maybe you are still part of the pack. The momentary thought excites you, and you feel a twinge in your gums, a pressure that tenses, then releases. Running your tongue over your teeth you find your canines have grown. Not fangs like hers, not yet. Longer, though. Sharper. Clearly a moment's enjoyment of what's happening to you is nudging you closer to being a werewolf like them.

You still need to find Allegra, though.

Steeling yourself, you pick up her scent again, going prowling down the hallway anew. Finally you find where it ends, headed into one of the bathrooms. Stepping inside, you look around and spot her boots in one of the stalls.

"Everything cool, Ally?" You ask, walking up to the mirrors by the sinks.

The difference is striking. You look taller, your hips broader, your breasts fuller. The frizzy hair that used to frustrate you somehow works now, grown out into a thick wild mane of red that inches out still longer as you allow yourself to appreciate it. It hides your pointed ears well enough, which is good since you don't want to scare Allegra. The light catches your retinas as you look, an animal reflection glinting. If it wasn't for everything else, you could get used to this.

"Morgan? Yeah, I just needed a pit stop. I knew it was a bad idea going out when I'm on my period."

"Oof. Aunt Flo, huh? That's a... that's a bummer."

Your nostrils flare. A breath in at the wrong moment, and you smell it. Blood. Allegra's blood, and that revelation wracks you, forcing you to steady yourself with your palms against the sink as your mouth waters.

"How about you, M? You... alright?"

"I'm... I'm fine," you gnash as your teeth start to sharpen further. "I just... need a minute."

You stagger into an open stall as a mad itch starts on your forearms and your calves. You fumble with the latch as your nails start to press out from your fingertips. Taking deep breaths, you roll back one sleeve and see a frosting of red hairs there, more sprouting as you watch. Hastily, you pull your sleeve back down over it and slump to sit on the toilet in defeat.

"Sorry I didn't tell you guys," Allegra says, "I didn't want to ruin the fun."

"It's okay, Ally," you say with a faint slurring of sounds as you try to navigate around the beginning of fangs.

Her period. Her monthly visitor. The smell of blood is already encouraging your growing animal side, but something about the phrase 'monthly visitor' feeds other thoughts. You could give her a monthly visitor. You always thought she was butch in a cute way, but you didn't want to make things awkward. Now you're imagining her changing too, grinning up at you with wolf's eyes and growing fangs as she leans in to lick your-

Oh god, now it's itching there, too!

Wincing, you undo the fly of your jeans and pull up the waist of your shirt. You see it already, tufts of red hair poking over the waist of your panties. You reach now long-nailed fingers to lift up the front of your panties for a peek.

The smell hits you before you can even get a good look, heady musk like a wet dog. It's coming from you now, and the source is no mystery. Your sex is wreathed with a lush muff of red hair, except as your fingers brush it you realize it's far softer than pubic hair. No, this is fur. There, quivering among that wild forest, are your puffy netherlips, no longer pretty and pink like a human's but dark like an animal and dewed with musk that drips onto your panties.