I found myself fighting back tears on the drive back to my place. Questions sprang to mind, 'Why me? Why should I have to put up with this curse?' but no answers came. Pulling into my lot, I saw an unfamiliar car in my reserved parking space. Could it be Heather?

My front door was unlocked, I knew she was behind it. She looked up at me as I entered the apartment, I must have been a sight to see in those over-sized boy clothes. I expected her to be angry with me, but she seemed more concerned. That's when the tears came.

I shut the door and locked it, then burying my face in my hands I spoke first. “Heather I'm sorry about what I said last night.”

“Don't worry, it's I who should apologize for doing this to you.” she said in a soothing tone. “Where were you when it happened tonight? Not driving I hope.”

I sniffled a little and nodded no.

“That's good, operating heavy machinery and undergoing our change don't mix.” she said half seriously and half joking. “As long as nobody saw you change, your secret is safe. Nobody saw you, did they?”

I nodded no again, my sobbing was under control now. “I'm sorry I didn't wait for you tonight.” I said at last.

“It's OK, we can still meet up with the pack. They'll be waiting for us at the usual spot, I told them we'd be late.” Heather explained. “It's always a cause for alarm when a thrall goes AWOL, but I knew you'd come around. You can run and hide from this new part of you all you want, but it won't do any good. You might as well get used to being one of us now, so go get dressed.”

Her instructions were firm but not bossy, and I instantly knew what she meant. I wobbled into my bedroom stripping out of my ill fitting clothes as I went. By the time I reached my closet, I was naked. The ends of my lips curled into a smile as I glimpsed my form in its feminine glory reflected in the mirror. It was the first time I smiled since leaving the Game Stop store.

Reaching into my closet, I pulled the sun-dress off it's hanger and held it against my shoulders. The last time I engaged in this exercise the garment looked ridiculous against my male form. This time around, it appeared to fit like a glove. The flares at the hip matched my own curvaceous bod. The bumps on my once flat chest lifted the material perfectly. I was excited to put it on.

As I slipped into the dress, I instantly became aware of how complex getting one of these things on can be. The zipper ran up my back, and was impossible to reach. I pulled the straps onto my shoulders, and attempted to work the zipper. I was reaching back to grab it at full extension, my body strangely contorted in the effort. That's when I noticed Heather standing behind me.

“Let me help dear.” she said. Gliding over she took the zipper from bottom to top. “There you go.”

Now fully zipped in, I became aware of the elastic band which seemed to be cupping my breasts. The dress was tight all over, but especially snug in the chest. It seemed to lift my bosom ever so slightly from the bottom while hugging my breasts tightly at the sides. The effect produced cleavage very similar to the woman in the music store earlier. This instant was like any other time I admired a pretty girls rack as I gazed down, but the tit meat was all me this time. “Damn...” I half whispered aloud.

Heather was giggling. “I know that's quite a rack of lamb honey. I may have skimped on the built in bra.” she hooked her thumbs under the chest opening of my dress, and tugged softly as I felt my breasts bounce a little. “Well it should be good enough support-wise, I just have to make it a little larger up top. I didn't expect they'd be quite so large!”

I blushed. I had always been a 'breast man' when admiring women's bodies. Now I could admire my own several nights a month.

“Now follow me into the bathroom girl, we gotta get Cinderella ready for the ball.” Heather gently commanded. I obeyed.

Once in the bathroom, Heather produced a small bag from her purse. Make-up, oh great.

“Oh no, no, not that I don't think so.” I protested waving an index finger in her direction.

“Look it's not much, just a little to bring out the pretty.” Heather countered.

I wasn't going to win this argument, so I caved in. Heather brushed on some foundation, and proceeded to add lipstick, eyeliner, blush and a spritz of perfume. It didn't take her long, she was clearly an expert, but as I watched Heather work it was with a growing sense of satisfaction. Whatever she was doing, whatever she was transforming me into, I liked it. Watching my reflection getting prettier and prettier by degree was quite a thrill, but when I saw the finished product I nearly fainted.

I was a knockout. Even before the impromptu make-over I was a beauty but now I looked positively modelesque. “Is that me?” I asked hesitantly. I didn't recognize my own reflection.

“Yes darling, that's all you. If I didn't know any better I'd say you're happy about the way you look right now.” Heather teased. I blushed again, still unable to force the smile from my face. “Now lets get going, you're ready to meet your sisters now.”

Strolling to Heathers waiting car, the night air against my bare shaved legs gave me somewhat of a rush. My posture, my gait, my appearance and my voice all identified me as a member of the female gender. Even a stranger at 100 paces would see, hear and possibly even smell girl. I couldn't help it, and I didn't really mind for the moment at least.

Conversation on the way to wherever we found ourselves going was thin. Of course Heather knew where we were going, I however had no idea. We passed through the central business district, Chinatown, the warehouse district, and at last the waterfront. We ended our drive clear across town from my humble abode. We parked Heather's car and walked a short distance to a seedy looking door, a nightclub on an otherwise empty street.

But however dead the street was, the club was lively. Heather and I sashayed past the doorman and into the lobby. The dance floor was packed with youthful gyrating bodies, 20 something males and females. My kind of place, except my perspective on the matter was considerably different now. Heather took my hand and led me through the crowd, vibrations from the bass working their way up my legs as we went.

As we passed the dancers, I could see some of them looking up. Men eyed me up with lust, and though that was sort of revolting it also felt empowering. The girls I passed regarded me with envy or passive hostility. They held their male dance partners more closely as I passed them. They thought I was fishing fir a man, and being blessed with ample bait made me a formidable adversary to them. I glanced down at my bulging breasts pridefully. It was my first glimpse at the power a magnificent pair of knockers possessed. And they were mine! Strange as it may seem, it felt good to be a pretty girl at a nightclub.

On the other side of the club stood a lonely door with a sign overhead that read, 'VIP's only!' We went right in.

The room fell silent as the door swung shut behind us, an odd contrast to the noisy club behind it. Inside the room was adorned by plush looking furniture, tasteful (well for a nightclub) artwork and nick-nack's. Bottles of overpriced night-club champagne, glasses with mixed drinks all littered the small tables ringing the room. The overall effect was pretty cheesy, I'd never been in a VIP room before, and even now I didn't feel like a VIP.

Oh yeah. One other detail I left out regarding the VIP room: it was filled with beautiful women.

“Ladies, meet Erin, Erin, this is the pack.” Heather smiled as she gestured to the room full of women, or more accurately werewomen.

Glancing over a sea of faces, I could see some women smiling at me, others glaring indifferently, while a couple were clearly undressing me with their eyes. I was flattered, offended and a bit turned on all at once.

“We meet here on the last full moon night of each monthly set.” Heather explained. “It allows us to plan pack activities for the next moon set, share developments from the previous changing nights,support one another and keep each other company. Is everyone here?” Heather asked no one in particular.

“Everyone except the day-walker.” someone towards the back revealed.

“She's always late, we can start without her. Lets just go around the room and introduce ourselves one at a time.” Heather seemed to be in charge here.

Before anyone else could speak I blurted out, “Sort of like werewoman anonymous.”

“God, I get so sick of hearing those corny thrall jokes.” barked a raven haired woman immediately to my right. I hadn't expected that reaction.

“Easy Vanessa,” Heather warned, “not everybody has the advantage of being born a pure blooded werewoman.”

“Pure-blood?” I said with a quizzical inflection.

“Pure blood, as in my father was a werewoman and I was born a ticking time bomb. I grew up a normal red-blooded American boy, then one evening in my teens the full moon triggered my inherited werewoman gene out of dormancy.” She seemed defensive. “Great job Heather, your thrall doesn't know shit about her new condition. Didn't you give her the book?” said Vanessa. I was beginning to think I didn't like this woman...err werewoman...whatever she was.

“Relax, it's her first moon set and she hasn't finished reading the manual. I spoke to her last night and told her the important stuff she needed to know immediately. Still she's having some trouble adjusting.” Heather was defending me and criticizing me all at once.

“That's OK, we all do at first.” chimed the pixie-like blond seated in the corner of the room. “I remember after I was bitten I thought I was going insane. Even with Becky helping me through my first moons, I just couldn't accept what I was becoming.” she explained.

“Thanks Rita, that's exactly the case with Erin. She just needs some time to let this reality sink in.” Heather displayed the coolness and calm I'd come to expect from her once more. Vanessa seemed to shrink back into the crowd. “Tonight she learned that you can't run from your moons, they'll catch up to you no matter where you are.”

Things seemed to be calming down in here, and I was thankful for Rita immediately. Finally, a person who could relate to my experience with this curse. I felt relieved to know that someone out there had been through what I was going through now. I wanted to pull her aside and talk to her in private then and there, but she continued on her own.

“I guess for me the turning point came when I accepted that I was going to change whether I wanted to or not. Physically changing under the full moon was not a choice, it was a mandate from my body. Once I realized this, I saw there was a choice to make between fighting my new nature and being miserable or embracing the change and trying to have a little fun with it.” Rita's words had really struck a chord within me. "If I'm going to be a girl sometimes, I might as well enjoy it."

'F*&$ing A right Rita. Simple but beautifully put,' I thought to myself.

“Since that day,” Rita went on, “I've never let my condition make me miserable again. On that day I went from cursed to blessed and all it took was a little self examination."

I was running over her epiphany in my mind when I heard the thudding bass of club music fill the room once more. In through the open door behind me stepped a beautiful blond wearing skin tight jeans and a designer top.

“Sorry I'm late girls! I got caught up at the mall.” she said upon entering.

“Oh great, the day-walker is here at last.” said Vanessa sarcastically.

It was about that point that I put two and two together. This woman they all referred to as 'day-walker' was the same woman I had seen earlier in the music store. I knew her on sight, but did she recognize me?