TheLycanthropeClub
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2021 Story Request #1
🕑 Added 2021-12-31 03:45:53 +0000 UTC"Could you do a story about a werewolf transforming in a mall bathroom during Christmas time, and is trying to find a way to escape unseen."
-TheDumpsterDaddy
It began, as it always did, as an odd tingle running down the back of her neck. The sensation was akin to parenthesia - the 'pins-and-needles' numbness one experienced after a limb fell asleep (Symone had once looked up the word) - but it was accompanied by a febrile warmth.
Symone shuddered but continued walking. She gazed around the shopping mall, noting the clusters of happy families, numerous bustling storefronts, scintillating colored lights and the two-story Christmas tree and Santa Claus throne dominating the square ahead of her. She even tried to follow the cheery holiday song being played over the speakers. The act was an unconscious effort to distract herself from - or, hopefully, stave off - what was coming. Then, she happened to glance up at the skylights and saw a fuzzy white sphere through the translucent glass. The sight was enough to accelerate the process.
"Goddammit," hissed the dusky-skinned college student as she clutched her left hand with her right. She could feel hair - or rather, fur - growing on the back of her hand. Her blouse, coat jacket and pants were already growing uncomfortably taut.
Then, someone bumped into her, knocking her a good foot or two to the side. It wasn't particularly painful but jarring.
"Oh, sorry," laughed a slightly overweight male shopper, glancing back at her. He was part of a group of older teenagers - football players, most likely, given their physiques and jerseys.
Symone's nostrils flared. Her lips peeled back and her canine teeth began to lengthen. Fortunately, the high schooler had already turned back to his friends and didn't witness her frightening reaction and transformation.
"Crap," muttered Symone as she regained her senses. She covered her mouth and retreated to the side. Leaning against a wall, she scanned the crowd. Her skin was flushed, her heart was pounding and she could feel thick fur creeping up along her back. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to her despite the incident with the uncouth teenager. Satisfied, she started looking for some egress from the mall. She spied a heavyset pair of doors a few stores down but there was a prominent sign on wall beside it that read 'Emergency Fire Exit.' The main entrances were too far away and the only other routes she could think of involving passing through department stores - again, too far away.
A jolt of pain shot through Symone's legs. A series of cracks, pops and crunches filled the air as her bones and sinew rearranged themselves beneath her darkening skin. A soft moan escaped her lips. A small boy holding his mother's hand stopped and stared at Symone for a second before being dragged along.
Panic engulfed her. Then, she remembered there was a restroom four stores back. While it didn't offer escape from the mall it was at least somewhere she could hide. She drew her coat as tightly to her body as her expanding frame would permit, turned and half-walked half-jogged back along the promenade, staying close but not too close to the storefronts so as to avoid the worst of the crowd. As she neared the bathroom she realized with a sinking feeling that the women's restroom would likely be quite crowded this time of night. There might even be a line. She had no idea what she would if that proved to be the case. She looked up and over the sea of bobbing heads and spotted the alcove leading to the bathrooms.
There was no line.
Heartened, Symone hurried over and passed through the open doorway. She was immediately assailed by a host of disgusting odors - some strong and caustic, some distressingly organic. She gritted her now fang-like teeth and forced herself forward.
The bathroom was nothing remarkable - a long corridor with stalls to one side and sinks, mirrors, paper towel dispensers and hand-soap dispensers to the other. There were a few women present, washing their hands or applying make-up. Some of the stall doors were shut and some were empty. Symone hurried down the restroom towards the handicap stall and saw to her relief that it was unoccupied. A few of the women gave her sidelong glances as she staggered past them but she was far past caring.
Once inside the stall she slammed the door behind her, locked it and practically tore her coat off. Panting, she gazed down at the burgeoning fawn-colored fur coating her stomach. She wiggled out of her shirt and reluctantly undid her sizable bra. Next, she unclasped her belt and tried to remove her pants. They wouldn't come off.
"Damn it," growled Symone, her voice now a disturbingly low contralto. A woman in a stall adjoining hers stared at the dividing wall and then hastened to finish her business.
Try as she might, Symone could not remove the offending pants; her hips had widened substantially and her thick pelt - and emerging tail - was not helping.
"Rrr...I really liked these pants," groaned Symone upon realizing what had to be done.
The woman in the adjoining stall heard this and grimaced.
Symone gripped the waist with both hands - which now sported leathery pads and claws - and tore her pants off with a single deft motion. They fell to the floor in tatters, revealing long, furry, digitigrade legs. Symone kicked her shoes off (which had been shredded by the growth of her feet), sat on the toilet and yanked her socks off.
All that remained were her panties. She rose and bent over to take them off when a soft twang filled the stall. Symone blushed deep red under her fur.
"I really liked those too," she muttered as her silky undergarment fluttered to the bathroom floor, its elastic band having ruptured when her posterior reached...critical mass.
Her transformation was nearly complete now. It didn't hurt the same way it had in the past - even when she was stressed (like now) - but it was never 100% comfortable. Symone alternatively growled and grunted as she gained inch after inch in height, pound after pound in muscle. Her ears grew, lengthened and narrowed into pointy tufts. Her jaw and nose stretched outwards, darkening, ultimately forming a short muzzle. Her already inhumanly sharp teeth morphed into true fangs. Her brown eyes brightened to yellow and started glowing with an inner light.
Symone stifled the urge to howl at the conclusion of her metamorphosis. It was a bit like suppressing a yawn - almost impossible to contain entirely. A soft ululation escaped her leathery lips but nothing more.
Symone blinked and stood there in her lycanthropic form. She looked around the bathroom stall as though seeing it for the first time, then yelped and ducked. Her new form was so tall that her head poked up over the dividing walls. She cursed and silently prayed that no one had seen her. A few, tense seconds passed. Symone's ears twitched. She could hear the din of the mall beyond the alcove and even make out conversations in nearby stores. Someone in a neighboring stall flushed their toilet and walked out of the bathroom. In short, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Symone relaxed somewhat. "Okay, now what?" she murmured.
A quick sniff confirmed - despite the confounding aromas of soap and excrement - that were at least a half-dozen women in the restroom with her. More would inevitably be popping in and out. She couldn't safely sneak out and even if she managed the feat, she'd be walking out into the middle of a crowded mall. During Christmas. Numerous schemes and stratagems were entertained. She glanced down at her sundered pants and briefly considered calling in a bomb threat but concluded it would attract unwanted attention (not to mention be incredibly unethical). The most reasonable solution, she realized, was the most boring. She just had to wait it out.
Symone bent down, dipped her massive paws into the pocket of her discarded pants and retrieved her phone. She took a seat against the far corner of the bathroom stall and started tapping away on the tiny device with her giant fingers.
* * *
"Attention Stonegate Plaza shoppers. The mall is closed. Please proceed to the nearest exit. We thank you for your patronage and hope to see you again!"
Symone sighed with relief. She tucked her phone into her ruined pants' pockets and then tied the pants around her waist. Although she had grown habituated to the smell in the bathroom she was not a fan of confined spaces, particularly in her lycanthropic form.
"It's straight to the forest after I get out of here," growled Symone to herself as she stood.
The room spun briefly as blood rushed to her legs. Once she had regained her composure she sniffed the air and peered warily over the top of the stalls. There didn't appear to be anyone around. Reassured but still cautious, Symone gathered what remained of her clothing (apart from her pants), clumped everything into a ball and then nudged the stall door open. She stuffed her clothes into a nearby garbage bin and then trotted to the exit. She pressed herself against the wall - her ears brushing the ceiling - and peered out from the alcove. The lights were still on but the mall appeared deserted. Half of the storefronts had lowered their security grilles. Nonetheless, she could make out distant footsteps and muted voices - security, janitors, employees or lingering customers, most likely. Symone contemplated waiting a bit longer but the mere thought of staying in the bathroom made her shiver with revulsion. She needed to get out of this damned concrete tomb and run in the moonlight! Also, her more logical and pragmatic side chimed, if she waited too long, all the exits would be locked. She could have probably broken down the doors but didn't want to risk undue attention.
Symone fell to all fours, darted out of the alcove and started padding along the empty promenade. Her claws made little clicking sounds as they hit the smooth polished floor. Numerous familiar scents - sucrose, polyester, detergent, sweat, plastic, ammonia, grease, baked bread, and charred meat - tickled her ultrasensitive nostrils as she ran. It took a great deal of willpower on her part not to stop as she passed the food court (she hadn't eaten for hours) but she pressed on.
Ahead, the storefronts gave way to a department store (now shuttered) and a glass door side entrance. Freedom beckoning, she accelerated, tongue lolling out of her mouth.
Then, a pair of figures stepped out of a linguine store to her left.
Symone yelped and skidded to a halt. She scampered into to the nearest open store - Hot Topic. She heard voices coming from outside the store.
"Yeah, I heard it too, man."
"I think I saw something. Looked like a big dog."
"Aww, man, please don't tell me some jackass left their dog behind."
"It went that way."
Clutching her nose to ward off the stink of patchouli oil, Symone looked around wildly. She didn't see any employees, customers or mall workers but none of the clothing racks, display tables or even the sales counter were large enough for her to hide behind. And their footsteps were growing closer.
Then, a wild, stupid idea occurred to her.
"Well, it worked for Bugs Bunny," said Symone dryly. "And if any shop would have one..."
She checked the clothing racks. Fortunately, there were lots of XXXL shirts.
* * *
The two janitors cautiously entered Hot Topic.
"You think I should grab the mop or something?"
"Why would you need the mop? Not our job to clean the stores."
"For the dog. I mean, if it's unfriendly we might need it."
"Like, to hit the dog with? You're sick, holmes."
"No no no! Like, to shoo it away."
The two uniformed men scanned the store's interior. The left wall was covered with colorful, garish T-shirts and posters depicting various pop culture icons, movies, bands and slogans. The display tables were stacked with subversive T-shirts, jackets, backpacks, hats, socks, key chains, stuffed toys, pencils, sunglasses, wind-up toys, imported Japanese candy and other counter-cultural gimmickry. But there didn't appear to be another living soul present.
"I don't see any dog."
"I could have sworn I saw something."
"Think someone is trying to stick around after hours? Like, to rob the place?"
"Could be. Wouldn't be the first time. I'll call secu-...Whoa!"
The janitor stopped and stared at the incredibly realistic, life-sized werewolf statue/mannequin in the far corner of the shop. It stood at least seven feet tall, its mouth open and claws extended as though ready to pounce. It sported thick dark brown mottled fur with an off-beige underbelly. It was actually a she as it also sported a prominent pair of breasts over which it wore a Twilight T-shirt. Unusually, the fur along its head - its hair or mane - consisted of numerous long braids. Someone had also left a pair of sunglasses over its eyes - probably as a joke.
"That's new," whistled the janitor, gazing up at the enormous thing.
"Holy shit, holmes," said the other janitor when he saw it as well. He walked up next to his coworker. "Must have cost them a fortune."
"Yeah."
The two men stared at the magnificent creature for a time.
"Hey, is there another Twilight movie coming out or something? Like, this is a promotional thing?"
"Nah, nah. Not that I know. Good thing, too. I hated those movies."
"Yeah, kinda weak story."
The first janitor ran a hand along the werewolf's right thigh.
"Feels real. Kind warm, too," he said approvingly.
He kept rubbing for a while and then turned around. "Hey, get a picture of me with it!"
"Sure thing," said the second janitor, already digging into his pocket.
The first janitor turned and posed with the statue, raising his hands and opening his mouth in mock terror as though he were about to ravaged by the looming beast. The second janitor raised his phone, rotated it 90 degrees and then held it there for a few seconds. There was a soft, ersatz click.
"Got it," said the second janitor.
"Thanks," said the first janitor, stepping away from the werewolf. "So...should we call security?"
The second janitor looked around the shop. He leaned back and peered at the space behind the register.
"Naaah," he concluded finally. "Store's empty, holmes. Must have been a reflection or something. Just keep your eyes open. We see something again, we'll give David a call."
"Alright."
With that, the two men exited the store. Several seconds passed. Then a minute. When she was certain they were gone and no-one else was nearby, Symone lowered her arms with an exasperated snarl. She took off the glasses and tossed them to the side.
"Great," she growled. "Now I have to steal a phone and scare a pair of idiots so they keep their mouths shut."
Symone scooped up her pants, took a few steps towards the exit and then hesitated. She glanced down at her T-shirt. After a moment's thought, she reached into her pants pockets, counted out $21.97 in bills and loose change and left it on the counter before leaving.
Comments
The Dumpster Daddy
https://www.deviantart.com/thedumpsterdaddy/art/Flower-Moon-Betty-s-First-Transformation-904133895
The Dumpster Daddy
This story is awesome. The reason I chose that topic is because I'm trying to write a TF story with that concept, and I wanted to see how you'd go about it. It's better than what I have, but I'll let that inspire me rather that let it get me down. Hopefully I'll finish my story up in a few days.
