Time to Be a Bitch

Shrugging, Lauren tore open the plastic of the package. The photo with the woman modeling the costume turned out to be the cover of a short instruction booklet. She wasn't sure what was so complicated about it to need instructions, but at least it had a list of what the package contained so she could take stock. The jeans and the tank top were obvious enough, and she could have used some of her own clothes there but it was nice this was a complete package. Still, looking down at the genuine articles she saw they looked a bit big for her, especially in the chest and hips regions. She'd figure something out, she reasoned.

The hair extensions were more involved than she thought they'd be, with several layers that had to be clipped in with her hair brushed over each one. She was starting to be more grateful for the instructions with that. There were press-on nails that seemed manageable, but tapered to blunt points and shaded from dark brown to ivory, just curved enough to look like claws. A set of four fangs, two above and two below, were accompanied by a glossy black tube of lipstick.

From here, the items got more surprising. The yellow-green eyes in the photo weren't just creative license, there were actual contacts provided. There also were a pair of silicone ear-tips, not long enough to look absurdly elfin, but still enough to bring her ears to points. Just a bit animal looking. Another prosthetic was the bite scar she'd seen in the cover photo, with a tube of adhesive and the instructions helpfully saying you could apply it 'anywhere.'

Still, that salacious suggestion wasn't what made her jaw drop.

The item list mentioned a 'vulva prosthetic with merkin.' Her cheeks flushed just reading that, even before she started rummaging through the package's contents to find what even that could be. Her blush only deepened when she found it. A dark, rubbery canine spade ringed by a shaggy ginger pubic muff with hair trailing upward so far it'd probably reach her navel. How on earth was this something that went into a costume? She hadn't asked for something for sex. It didn't even seem like it was that kind of shop.

Still, it seemed vaguely tempting.

Still blushing, she shook off that notion and reached for the hair extensions.

It had taken awhile sitting at her vanity with a hairbrush to get them all in and smoothed over. Looking in the mirror, she was already liking the results. Her hair looked much fuller and longer, framing her face in a riotous red mane that trailed down to waist length. There was a weight to it that she found oddly pleasing. Brushing those thick locks back from her ears, she applied the adhesive to the ear tips before settling them onto her own ears. It was a hell of a look, and that by itself was urging her on. Carefully she put the contacts in and blinked back momentary tears before marveling at her own animal gaze looking back in the mirror. Eager to complete the look, she put in the fangs, spending a moment mock-snarling before deciding she really needed more. After putting on the black lipstick, she let herself have a soft gasp at what stared back.

"Oh, hell yes." She murmured to herself.

The nails followed quickly after. She was impressed with how securely they went on, and entertained a brief, embarrassed fantasy of touching herself while wearing them.

Then, her eyes strayed to the two remaining prosthetics. The scar and the... her mind at that moment refused to call it anything but a wolf cunt.

Did she even dare?

Still, if she put them on, nobody had to know. Even the scar could be under her clothes. Her little secret, like Superman wearing his costume under a suit. The thought flustered and enticed her.

If she wanted to do that, she'd have to prepare.

She'd stood in reverie for a few moments after stripping down. These were sensations she hadn't been expecting, the weight of her red mane swaying across her bare back and draped over her petite breasts. The feeling of the nails on her pale, freckled skin had been tantalizing too, but she gathered herself and reminded herself of what she needed to do.

She reached for her shave gel and lathered up.

With as hard as she'd worked on her studies, Lauren hadn't had much time for dating. Her grooming standards had slipped a bit, and frankly who needed to be clean-shaven if nobody was going to see it? Still, if she was going to stick something to her skin, then even a little hair was going to be a problem. She decided to be thorough, getting her legs smooth again before re-angling and tackling the ruddy stubble on her mound. Rinsing off with a washcloth, she toweled herself as dry as she could manage.

Oh, those girls have no idea, she thought as she walked out of the bathroom naked.

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she spread her legs and picked up the hairy prosthetic. She figured she'd only get one shot at this once the adhesive went on, so she decided to just test how it would go on, first. She turned it over in her hands carefully, as if it might bite her. Then, she tried to settle it to cover her sex. Try as she might, it just didn't seem to go on right. Folds of dark silicone were mashed against her own folds, and she couldn't get the edges to sit flush. She let out a frustrated noise as she fidgeted with it, until to her surprise her long-nailed finger slipped into the prosthetic and aligned its folds with hers.

The blush was back with a vengeance as she realized this was designed to fit into her.

A few moments frantic cleaning with an **** wipe followed. She didn't want any of her natural lubrication on it before she tried the adhesive. Nostrils flaring with the chemical smell, she brushed it on to the prosthetic and maneuvered it carefully with her fingers into her folds.

It fit like a glove.

Something about that was so satisfying, bringing the edges flush with her skin and patting everything down, petting the lush, wiry merkin that honestly felt eerily like real pubic hair. As she'd thought, the sparse ginger treasure trail that snaked up from it went all the way up to her navel. She looked down, and she scarcely looked human down there. She wasn't sure if this was turning her on or it was just the foreign object she'd put into herself, but she felt herself moisten between her legs.

She was sure where she wanted to put the bite scar.

Reaching for it, she brushed a thin coat of the adhesive on the back of it and pressed it to the skin of her inner thigh.

Where she was bitten.

Where another bitch had bitten her, and it was a bitch in the half-fevered fantasy that was forming in her head. A bitch bit her thigh and put this sickness in her veins, then ate her snatch until she'd howled and changed. That was how she'd become a werewolf.

As she stood up, it almost seemed real. She almost felt like she remembered that fateful night, and the snarling, bestial rut that they shared.

What's more, it didn't feel like she had anything on. Not just that she'd stripped naked, but she couldn't tell where the prosthetics ended and she began. She tongued a fang in her mouth and felt her ears twitch amidst her thick mane. She ran long-nailed fingers through her unruly muff and she could feel those dangerous nails as they grazed the glistening dark spade of her wolf cunt.

That realization sent a wet, cracking pop through her hips as they widened. Muscle writhed and multiplied in her thighs as they thickened. Her abs went taut, then her nipples went stiff brushing against her draping locks. She could feel warmth gathering there, and her nipples darkened to match her bestial netherlips as they too thickened, buoyed by her swelling breasts.

She was breathing heavily as her body finally settled, breath hissing through fangs and tinged with snarling. Finally getting her wits about her she glanced over to the mirror and saw a towering figure just as imposing as the model on the package. She was still recognizably herself, just so much more besides.

She slipped her panties back on, giving an appreciative growl as she saw that her pubic hair poked from the sides. Then, slipping on the jeans she found that instead of being baggy the ripped denim was pleasingly tight, hugging her hips and thighs.

Hefting her newly weighty breasts, she eyed her bra and decided it wasn't going to work. She pulled the tank top on and shook out her mane, letting her glories settle under the tattered cotton, the outline of her nipples in clear relief.

Oh, she was going to have fun with this.

Even Victoria couldn't make her feel small now. Maybe she'd pay the blonde a visit and show her what dominance really was. Then again, that collar Charlotte wore and the way she acted around Victoria spoke of a submissive streak a mile wide. Maybe she'd be more appreciative of Lauren now, and be open to leaving the species.

It was her night, and she was going to do what she wanted. Drink, prowl, maybe even start a pack of her own.