Did she recognize me? Well she walked right past me and took a seat without a word so I guess not. Now that the matter of her recognizing me was settled, I felt compelled to ask. In a shy, frail voice much higher than the one I was used to, I found myself saying, “You guys...what's a day-walker?”

“Oh for Pete's sake Heather, you said you covered the important stuff.” belted Vanessa. “And with melons like hers,” Vanessa stood and gestured to my ample breasts, “that should have been the first chapter you told her to read.”

“Vanessa that's quite enough.” Heather looked angry for the first time tonight. Composing herself she continued. “All in good time, it's a lot of information and it should be taken in small doses.”

“Says you.” said the one they called 'day-walker.' “Look she has a right to know, it's a distinct possibility that she might end up like me.”

“Like what? Or, who? Heather what are they talking about?” I asked fearfully.

“OK you asked for it. Try not to blow a gasket when I tell you though.” Heather said swallowing hard. “A Day-walker is a werewoman who can transform any time, day or night, and totally at will. They have control over their form to the point where even the full moon can't force them to change.”

“But...look, she's a...a girl.” I protested

“It's totally voluntary hun. Just wait and listen, she's getting to the good part.” said the still nameless 'day-walker.'

“It's like she said, the only reason she's female now is because she wants to be. Most day-walkers stay in female form year-round. Our Emily is no different.” At last, the 'day-walker' had a name. Emily.

"Once you discover a little more about being a woman, you'll quickly realize that it beats being a man hands down.” Heather was on a roll. “What separates us from the day-walkers is, they can change under the light of the sun. Even an experienced werewoman like myself, or Vanessa there can't pull that off.” Heather sounded sad.

“So how does one become a day-walker?” I inquired.

“It's complicated.” Heather admitted. Big surprise. “It's a combination of training and genetic potential. With a little practice, most werewoman can force a change during a night when the moon isn't full. Most of us simply don't want to, 3 nights is enough, sometimes more than enough. But for some reason, day-walkers gravitate towards spending more and more time as women. They'll force it more and more, until eventually the woman inside spills over into daylight hours.” Heather revealed looking somewhat red-faced.

“So like, they become addicted to femininity?” I asked sounding rather like a valley girl.

“Bingo.” Heather acknowledged my correctness. “Now like I said, for most werewomen this isn't possible. Believe me I've tried to live in one gender, as a woman, and I simply can't hold my form under the light of the sun. The only way I could do that is to get pregnant.”

“To get what-now?” I was scared.

“Pregnant dear, and yes before you ask it is a slim possibility.” I gulped as Heather went on. “If a werewoman gets pregnant, they stay female until the full moon following delivery. That's when their new curse begins, they become weremen.”

“Weremen? Is that what I think it is?” I asked.

“If you think it's a woman that becomes male on the nights of the full moon, than yes.” Heather answered. “And so the person continues to live between genders no matter what. Only now they have a child to care for, a child that will probably inherit the curse during adolescence.” Heather trailed off. “Only day-walkers like Emily here can live in a single gender.”

“And once you get to chose between male and female...well it's a no brainer you'll see.” said Emily.

“I will?” I asked somewhat defensively. “How come you're so sure?” I was pointing with my left hand, my right rested high on my girly hip. Noticing my posture I corrected myself and struck a more gender neutral pose.

“It's the tits darling. Remember what your weremommy Heather said about genetic potential? Well you've got it in spades kid.” Emily's words cut me like a knife. Scanning the room, I saw many b-cups, quite a few c-cups, and even a pair or two of small d-cups. But my maguppies were larger than all of theirs, a solid d or even a double. Though still somewhat smaller than Emily's pair, that was little comfort to me. “But don't worry, you have a long way to go before you can be like me.”

Emily's speech reminded me of something Heather said the night before, ““There are three nights of the full moon per month, and like it or not you'll be transforming on all of them. And who knows? With breasts that large, probably a couple times in between full moons too.” Heathers parting words had new significance now.

“So you're all in agreement, I could end up like her?” I asked. Seeing her in the mall earlier today, totally immersed in her femininity I envisioned this to be my future. I was trembling at the thought.

“Yeah isn't it cool?” asked Emily light-heartedly.

I said nothing.

“While it's not inevitable, it is probable.” Heather said in a serious voice. “You may not become a day-walker, but only you can decide that.” she said. “And besides, the path of the day-walker is a gradual biological progression. If that's the road you travel, you'll walk down it at your own pace.”

“Now then...” Heather was shifting gears in the conversation. “If we're all done trying to scare the new girl, we can get back to introductions and have a good time.”

Right. A good time indeed. Just when I think adjusting to 3 nights as a woman will be tough I face the prospect of a permanent magical sex change. What would I do? Where would I live and work? With no credentials or identity for my female self, the prospect of becoming a day-walker scared me to death.

Heather M.C'ed the remaining introductions but I hardly heard a word. I was too busy thinking about this day walker business. At one point towards the end of the introductions, I found myself staring at Emily. She was fumbling through her purse, but then she looked up with a smile and wink. It was as though she knew something about me that not even I knew. She may indeed.

When the introductions ended, all twenty three women and I stood up and clinked glasses in a toast, “To the new sister of our pack.”

At that point some of the sisters left, the pack business having been completed. Others went out to join the dancing. Heather and I stayed put.

“Don't let Emily scare you, she's actually a really nice girl. And that whole day-walker thing, just don't worry. If it's meant to be it's meant to be.” Heather said.

“I'm not scared, it's just that I can't see myself living as a woman all the time.” I admitted.

“Than it probably won't happen hun. Just be aware that the longer a person lives with this condition, the more it changes them. You might not notice it for a while, it won't be overnight, but one day you'll look at this werewoman thing very differently than you do now.” Heather had a thoughtful expression. “So don't be surprised if what you want changes over time.”

I nodded in agreement. “Look I need a drink.” I stood up and walked out into the club. Heather didn't follow.

Sliding up to the bar, I ordered a Bud to the shock of the male bartender. He poured it though. While I was waiting for my glass to fill, I saw another woman enter my peripheral vision. It was Emily.

Before I could object, or get my beverage, she was pulling me out on the dance-floor. “Lets see that hot little body of your in motion!” she said excitedly.

I'd never been a good dancer, but I found my hips swaying to the bass beat while my arms moved about in time to the music around me. 'I'll be damned' I thought, 'dancing really is instinctual to women.' My expression must have read amazement as I moved my body like it never had before. I felt my hips popping as I swayed, my long hair dusting my neck gently, and my breasts bobbed with every motion I made. I could even feel the jiggle of my ass bouncing around with every step.

Emily smiled as she moved around me, contorting her body in a seductive dance of her own invention. We made eye contact, erupting into a fit of giggles periodically. As the only two werewomen on the dance floor, we had a private joke to share.

We danced for an hour, at one point colliding breast to breast. I'd never been hit in the breast before,and it hurt a bit in a strange sort of way. Emily laughed at my reaction to the new sensation. “Thralls are always so much fun to hang around. I wish I could remember the nuances of femininity but living it every day is great.”

“I'm glad you feel that way.” I said over the loud music. “I just don't know if I could manage it.” I saw Heather sitting alone at a table near the back. I thought she was keeping an eye on me, or maybe I just hoped she was.

We continued to cavort around the dance floor, and I relished the erotic sensations of being an object of desire. I didn't know whose desire, but that didn't matter. “I'm starting to get sweaty.” I said to my companion.

“Women don't sweat dear, we glow!” replied Emily cheerfully. We continued dancing in close proximity, and at one point had what can only be described as a moment. Our eyes locked, and I leaned forward to kiss her on the lips. This music and our proximity was beginning to affect me. At the critical moment when our lips were about to meet, I backed off.

“Whats the matter? Too soon?”Emily shrugged as the music began to change. “I suppose I'll let you get used to womanhood before I try and make a lesbian out of you.” she winked. Just hearing the word lesbian roll off her tongue made me blush. I'd always appreciated movies where two women got together, now I could star in my own if I wanted. And I sort of did.

I could tell the DJ was mixing in a smaple of a new Lady Gaga club mix, and I rolled my eyes in response.

“Let's go have a seat, Erin.” Emily took my hand and led me towards an empty table. “Only a person who didn't have a clue would jam out to Lady Gaga.” she said locking eyes as we sat. “What, you thought I didn't recognize you from the music store earlier?”

I blushed, unsure how to answer.