Rick Bloom stood in the doorway of his new apartment, cardboard box in his arms, and took in the space that would be his home for the next year. Hamilton University apartment housing wasn't fancy, but it was a hell of a lot better than the cramped dorms. The two-bedroom unit had a modest kitchen, living room with a secondhand couch, and most importantly, space to breathe.

"Is that the last box?" Emma called from her bedroom.

"Yeah," Rick replied, setting it down with a grunt. "Everything else is unpacked."

Emma Ward appeared in her doorway, her chestnut hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She'd been Rick's best friend since third grade, and getting accepted to the same college had seemed like fate.

Living together was the obvious choice—she was the only person he truly trusted.

"So," Emma said, flopping onto the couch. "Day one of college life. Feeling nervous?"

Rick shrugged, trying to project confidence. "Why would I be? Fresh start, new people. What's not to like?"

Emma's expression turned serious. "Any... you know... signs?"

Rick knew exactly what she was asking. She was the only person outside his immediate family who knew about his latent werewoman gene. Ever since his cousin Charlie had transformed into Courtney during his own freshman year at Hamilton, Rick's parents had insisted on genetic testing. The results had been unambiguous.

"Nothing serious," Rick lied, avoiding her gaze. "Doc says the hereditary form usually doesn't kick in until mid-twenties. I've got years."

"If you say so," Emma replied, clearly unconvinced. "But you'd tell me if something was happening, right?"

"Of course," Rick said, forcing a smile. "But nothing's going to happen. Not for a long time."

Later that night, Rick unpacked the small, locked box he'd hidden at the bottom of his duffel bag.

Inside was a simple black dress, a pair of panties, and some basic makeup. Just in case. He wasn't like those guys who got off on crossdressing—this was purely practical preparation.

He quickly locked the box again and shoved it under his bed, trying to ignore the flutter of curiosity he felt when his fingers brushed against the silky fabric.

His phone buzzed with a notification from his ex-girlfriend's Instagram. Another beach photo with some muscular guy he didn't recognize. Three months after their breakup, it still stung.

"Fuck her," he muttered, tossing the phone aside.

That night, like many others recently, he dreamed of the moon.

"Yo, Bloom! You hitting the party tonight?"

Two weeks into the semester, Rick was settling into college life. Classes were challenging but manageable, and he'd made friends with guys from his Business Statistics class.

"Maybe," Rick replied to Josh, a stocky sophomore who lived down the hall. "What's the occasion?"

Josh grinned. "Do we need one? Alpha Sig is throwing their start-of-semester rager. Tons of chicks."

The prospect of meeting girls was appealing. Since arriving on campus, Rick had struck out repeatedly. His ex had been his only serious girlfriend, and since their breakup, he'd noticed a strange pattern—women seemed to lose interest in him quickly, as if sensing something off.

"Count me in," Rick said, ignoring the weird tingling sensation that had been coming and going for days.

Later that afternoon, Rick sat in the library trying to focus on his textbook. Instead, his attention kept drifting to a group of girls studying nearby.

That skirt has such a nice flow to it... Her makeup is flawless... I bet those heels are uncomfortable after a full day of classes...

"Fuck," Rick muttered, shaking his head. These weren't normal guy thoughts. Lately, he'd been noticing women differently—not just sexually, but with a strange envy. He'd catch himself wondering how certain fabrics would feel against his skin or how it would feel to walk with that distinctive feminine gait.

"Is this seat taken?"

Rick looked up to see a stunning blonde standing over him. She had the kind of effortless beauty that dominated rooms—long straight hair, bright blue eyes, and a figure that her fitted top and jeans displayed perfectly.

"No, go ahead," he said, suddenly self-conscious.

"I'm Nikki," she said, sliding into the chair across from him.

"Rick."

"Psychology major. You?"

"Business, minor in computer science."

She smiled, and something about it made his heart race. By the end of their study session, he had her number and plans to meet for coffee.

Walking back to his apartment, Rick felt a surge of confidence. Maybe things were looking up.

That night, though, the dream came again—more vivid than before. He was standing naked in moonlight, watching his body soften, curve, transform. He woke up with a gasp, his heart pounding and his cock rock hard.

Without thinking, he began stroking himself, the images from the dream still fresh—his chest swelling, waist narrowing, face feminizing. He came with a strangled moan, then lay there in the darkness, a familiar shame washing over him.

The doctor had warned about this—increased gender-bent fantasies were an early warning sign. But lots of guys had weird fantasies, right? It didn't necessarily mean anything.

He cleaned himself up and checked his phone calendar. The full moon was still two weeks away. He'd always tracked the lunar cycles obsessively since learning about his condition. Just to be safe.

"Nothing's happening," he whispered to himself in the darkness. "Not yet."

"So your cousin went to Hamilton too?" Nikki asked, sipping her latte. Their coffee date had turned into dinner, which had turned into walking around campus until midnight. A week later, they were officially dating, and Rick couldn't believe his luck.

"Yeah, Charlie. He was here about three years ago," Rick said carefully, avoiding any mention of why his cousin had left after freshman year.

"Hmm, the name sounds familiar," Nikki remarked, studying him intently. "Was he in a fraternity?"

Rick shook his head. "No, he didn't really get the chance to... he left after his first semester. Family stuff."

Nikki seemed oddly interested but didn't press. Instead, she changed the subject, asking about Rick's hometown, his family, his past relationships. There was something systematic about her questions, as if she were gathering information for a purpose.

Later that evening, in Nikki's dorm room, Rick found himself increasingly distracted during their makeout session. As her hands roamed his body, he caught himself wondering what it would feel like if the roles were reversed—if he were the one being touched, explored, penetrated.

"Everything okay?" Nikki asked, noticing his hesitation.

"Yeah, just... nervous, I guess," he lied.

When they finally had sex, Rick found himself oddly detached, observing the experience rather than fully participating in it. When he came, it was with an unexpected high-pitched moan that made Nikki raise an eyebrow.

Afterward, as she dozed beside him, Rick stared at the ceiling, troubled. These thoughts were getting more frequent, more intrusive. Maybe he should call his doctor, see if there were tests that could give him a more precise timeline.

"What are you thinking about?" Nikki murmured.

"Nothing important," Rick lied, pulling her closer.

The next day, Rick noticed a flyer for a campus party: "Full Moon Bash" at Alpha Sigma Rho on October 3rd. He pulled out his phone and checked the date. The first night of the October full moon cycle.

A tremor of unease ran through him. His doctor had explained that first transformations typically happened during the first night of a full moon, but not until the mid-twenties for most hereditary cases.

"You're fine," he muttered to himself. "Years away."

But that night, he checked that his emergency box was still accessible under the bed, just in case.

"Rick, we need to talk."

Emma cornered him in the kitchen one morning, a week before the full moon. Her expression was serious, concerned.

"About?" Rick asked, though he already knew.

"You're showing signs," she said bluntly. "I've been researching werewomanhood, and you're hitting all the warning markers."

Rick scoffed, pouring himself coffee. "So I've been having weird dreams. Everyone has weird dreams."

"It's not just dreams," Emma insisted. "You're different. The way you look at women's clothing in stores, how you sometimes mimic feminine speech patterns without realizing it. And I heard you moan in your sleep last night. It wasn't a guy sound."

Rick felt his face flush with embarrassment and anger. "Jesus, Emma! Are you monitoring me now?"

"I'm worried about you," she said, unfazed by his outburst. "The full moon is in a week. What if something happens?"

"Nothing's going to happen! I'm not Charlie, okay? I'm not going to girl-out in my freshman year.

The doctor said—"

"The doctor said most cases don't manifest until the mid-twenties," Emma finished for him. "But your family has a history of early transformation. Charlie changed at eighteen too."

Rick slammed his mug down. "I'm fine! And I'm not going to let you freak me out about this!"

Emma's expression softened. "Look, I'm not trying to scare you. I just want you to be prepared, just in case. The first transformation is always the most intense."

"There's not going to be a first transformation. Not anytime soon."

But later that day, alone in a bathroom stall after his economics class, Rick found himself looking up the symptoms of imminent transformation on his phone:

Persistent gender-bent fantasies ✓

Difficulty maintaining heterosexual relationships ✓

Intrusive feminine thoughts or impulses ✓

Intense awareness of lunar cycles ✓

Inexplicable urges to crossdress ✓

He stared at the screen, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. Five for five.

"Fuck," he whispered, closing the browser.

"You're definitely coming to the Full Moon Bash on Friday, right?" Nikki asked, curled against Rick on her dorm room bed. They'd been dating for nearly a month now, spending more time at her place than his apartment with Emma.

"Yeah, I said I would," Rick replied, trying to suppress the nervousness he felt whenever the party was mentioned. "Why is it so important to you?"

Nikki traced patterns on his chest. "It's the biggest party of the semester. Everyone who matters will be there."

Ever since they'd started dating, Rick had noticed Nikki's obsession with social status. She always needed to be at the right events, seen with the right people. Being a senior while he was a freshman, she clearly had more social capital—a fact she sometimes subtly reminded him of.

"You know," she said, shifting to look at him more directly, "you should wear something special for me that night."

"Like what?"

Nikki reached under her bed and pulled out a small bag. "I got you a present."

Inside was a pair of silky black boxer briefs with a lace trim. Not overtly feminine, but definitely not standard men's underwear either.

"I... what?" Rick stammered, touching the fabric uncertainly.

"I think you'd look hot in them," Nikki purred. "Just for me. Don't you want to make me happy?"

Something in her tone seemed off, almost manipulative, but Rick pushed the thought aside. "Sure, I guess."

Later, when they had sex, Nikki suggested positions that put Rick in a more passive role. He found himself responding with unexpected enthusiasm, even as a part of him wondered at these new preferences.

Walking back to his apartment afterward, Rick felt increasingly uneasy about Friday's party. It wasn't just the date—the first night of the full moon—but also Nikki's strange intensity about it.

He passed a group of muscular guys from the football team who gave him odd looks.

"That's him, right?" one of them said, not bothering to lower his voice.

"Yeah, Charlie's cousin," another replied with a smirk.

"Wonder if he'll follow the family tradition," a third added, causing them all to laugh.

Rick quickened his pace, pretending not to hear. How did they know about Charlie? And what did they mean by "family tradition"?

Back at the apartment, Emma was waiting for him with a determined expression.

"We need to talk about Friday," she said without preamble.

"Not this again," Rick groaned.

"I looked up the exact time of moonrise," Emma pressed on. "It's 9:15 PM. The party starts at 7. You'll be right in the middle of it when the moon rises."

"So? Nothing's going to happen!"

"You don't know that! And from what I've been reading, first transformations are incredibly... intense. You lose control completely."

Rick threw up his hands. "What do you want me to do? Hide in my room for the rest of college because I might transform someday?"

"No, but maybe skip this particular party? The one happening exactly on the full moon?"

"I can't. Nikki really wants me there."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Nikki. Of course. Don't you think it's weird that she's so insistent about this specific party?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that it's suspicious that the hottest senior on campus starts dating a random freshman right before the full moon, then insists he attend a party that coincides exactly with moonrise."

Rick felt his temper flare. "Maybe she actually likes me? Did you ever think of that? Not everyone is obsessed with my families werewoman curse like you are!"

Emma stepped back, hurt flashing across her face. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"I don't need you to! I'm fine! Nothing is going to happen on Friday, and Nikki isn't some... some mastermind trying to catch me transforming!"

"Fine," Emma said coldly. "But when you're girling-out in the middle of a frat party surrounded by people who don't give a shit about you, don't say I didn't warn you."

She walked out, leaving Rick alone with his thoughts.

That night, Rick couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about Emma's warning, about the football players' comments, about Nikki's strange behavior. Just to quiet his mind, he pulled out the box from under his bed.

The black dress seemed to call to him. Without fully processing what he was doing, he stood and held it against his body, looking in the mirror.

Just being prepared, he told himself. Just in case.

But as he studied his reflection, imagining the dress filled out with curves that weren't there yet, he couldn't deny the surge of anticipation he felt.

"It's not happening," he whispered to his reflection. "Not now. Not yet."

Three days before the full moon, the dreams intensified. Rick woke up multiple times each night, his sheets soaked with sweat, his body curled in feminine positions. Each time, he found himself hard, aching with need that seemed to transcend ordinary arousal.

Two days before, his skin became hypersensitive, clothes suddenly feeling abrasive against it. Colors seemed brighter, smells more intense. He found himself noticing the smallest details about women around him—the way they moved, spoke, gestured—with an attention that went beyond ordinary attraction.

"It's just anxiety," he kept telling himself. "Mind over matter."

The day before the full moon, Rick's phone filled with texts from Nikki:

Don't forget about tomorrow night

Wear something nice

I have a surprise for you

The idea of a surprise both excited and unnerved him. Something about Nikki's interest had always seemed off, but he'd been so flattered by her attention that he'd ignored his instincts.

That afternoon, Rick stood in front of his mirror, studying his reflection. At 5'11", he had a lean but masculine build, short brown hair, and features he'd always considered unremarkably male.

But now, he found himself wondering what he'd look like with longer hair, softer features. His hands moved to his chest, imagining the weight and fullness of breasts. His hips, imagining them wider, rounder.

A knock at his door made him jump.

"Rick?" Emma called. "Can we talk? I don't want to fight anymore."

He hastily dropped his hands. "Yeah, just a second."

When he opened the door, Emma looked both concerned and apologetic. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I know I've been intense about all this."

"It's okay," Rick said. "I know you're just looking out for me."

"I am. And whatever you decide about tomorrow, I'll support you. Just... promise me you'll call if anything happens? Anytime, no questions asked."

Rick nodded, touched by her concern despite his continued certainty that nothing would happen. "I promise."

As she turned to leave, Emma paused. "Oh, and Rick? If something does happen... remember that you're still you. No matter what form you're in."

After she left, Rick lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The looming full moon, Nikki's suspicious behavior, Emma's warnings, his own accelerating symptoms—it was all becoming too much to ignore.

For the first time, he seriously considered the possibility that the transformation might come sooner than expected. Maybe even tomorrow night.

"If it happens," he whispered to himself, "I'll deal with it. Somehow."

But as the light faded and another restless night began, the certainty he'd clung to for so long was finally beginning to crack.

Rick woke up on October 3rd with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. The full moon was tonight. Although he'd convinced himself for weeks that his transformation was years away, this morning felt different. His skin tingled with hypersensitivity, and when he stepped into the shower, the water droplets hitting his body created a cascade of sensations that made him gasp.

"Just anxiety," he muttered to himself, turning the water temperature down. "Nothing's going to happen tonight."

As he dried off, he caught himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. Was his jawline softer today? Were his hips slightly wider? He shook his head to clear these thoughts. There was no physical feminization before transformation—that much he knew from his research. Any changes he thought he saw were just his imagination working overtime.

When he emerged from the bathroom dressed for class, Emma was in the kitchen making coffee. Her eyes scanned him with obvious concern.

"Morning," she said cautiously. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Rick replied too quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Emma sighed. "Rick, it's the first night of the full moon. And given all your symptoms lately—"

"I told you," Rick interrupted, "nothing's going to happen. The doctor said I have years."

"The doctor said most carriers have years," Emma corrected gently. "Your cousin—"

"I'm not Charlie!" Rick snapped, then immediately regretted his tone. "Sorry. I'm just tired of everyone expecting me to turn into some... girl-fag just because my cousin did."

Emma flinched at his use of the derogatory term. "That's not fair. You know Charlie didn't choose—"

"I know, I know," Rick said, grabbing his backpack. "Look, I'll see you later, okay? I've got class."

As he headed for the door, Emma called after him: "Rick? Whatever happens, I'm here for you. Both versions of you."

Rick paused, momentarily touched by her unwavering support, then pushed away the feeling. "Nothing's going to happen," he repeated, more to himself than to her.

Throughout his morning classes, Rick found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. His body felt foreign somehow—his clothes too rough against his skin, sounds too sharp in his ears, scents too vivid in his nostrils. By noon, he had a persistent erection that wouldn't subside no matter how much he tried to think of non-arousing things.

His phone buzzed with a text from Nikki: Can't wait to see you tonight, handsome. Wear that blue button-down I like. 7pm at Alpha Sig. Don't be late!

Rick smiled despite his unease. Nikki wanted him at the party. Beautiful, popular, senior Nikki wanted him. That had to count for something.

Mid-afternoon, he returned to the apartment to find Emma waiting for him, a printout in her hand.

"I've been researching," she said without preamble. "Tonight's full moon rises at exactly 9:15 PM."

Rick rolled his eyes. "And?"

"And the party starts at 7. So you'll be right in the middle of it when moonrise happens."

"If anything happens, which it won't."

Emma thrust the printout at him. "These are the warning signs of imminent transformation. You're showing every single one of them, Rick."

Rick glanced at the list, his stomach dropping as he recognized his own experiences in every bullet point:

Persistent gender-bent fantasies

Skin hypersensitivity

Persistent, unrelated erections

Heightened sensory awareness

Awareness of moon phases

Increased desire for feminine self-expression

"This doesn't mean anything," he said, handing the paper back. "Lots of guys have these thoughts."

"Not like this," Emma insisted. "Please, Rick. Just stay home tonight. We can watch movies, order pizza. If nothing happens, great! But if something does..."

Rick's phone buzzed again. Another text from Nikki: Picked up something special to wear tonight. Can't wait to show you. You're coming, right?

He looked at Emma, then back at his phone, torn between her concern and Nikki's excitement.

"I have to go," he finally said. "Nikki's expecting me."

Emma's expression hardened. "Nikki. Of course."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't you think it's strange that she started dating you right before the full moon? That she's so insistent about you being at this particular party at this particular time?"

Rick felt a flare of defensive anger. "You think she's dating me because I might turn into a werewoman? That's ridiculous! Maybe she actually likes me, did you ever think of that?"

"I think you need to consider the possibility that her interest isn't what you think it is," Emma said carefully.

"You're just jealous," Rick shot back, immediately regretting the words but too angry to take them back.

Emma's face fell. "You really think that's what this is about?"

"I don't know what it's about, but I'm going to the party tonight. Nothing is going to happen, and tomorrow we can laugh about how paranoid you were."

Without waiting for her response, Rick stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door. He threw himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his racing heart.

Deep down, a part of him knew Emma might be right. But admitting that meant accepting the possibility that tonight could change everything—that he might lose control of his body, his identity, his future. It was easier to be angry with Emma than to face that terrifying prospect.

As evening approached, Rick showered again and dressed carefully in the blue button-down Nikki had requested, paired with his best jeans. His hands trembled slightly as he styled his hair, and he avoided looking too long at his own reflection.

When he emerged from his room at 6:30 PM, Emma was sitting on the couch, her eyes red-rimmed.

"I'm heading out," Rick said, his voice softer than before.

Emma nodded. "I know."

"I'll text you when I get there, okay?"

"Rick," she said, looking up at him. "If something happens tonight... if you start to feel strange or different... promise you'll call me. I'll come get you. No questions asked."

The sincerity in her voice made his throat tighten. "I promise."

As he walked out the door, Rick couldn't shake the feeling that he was making a terrible mistake. But the thought of disappointing Nikki, of missing out on being with her, pushed him forward into the gathering darkness of the October evening.

The Alpha Sigma Rho house was already pulsing with music when Rick arrived at 7:05 PM. Red cups, dimmed lights, and bodies pressed together in the makeshift dance floor of the main room—a typical college party scene that somehow felt ominous tonight.

"Rick! You made it!" Nikki's voice cut through the noise as she appeared in front of him, stunning in a tight red dress that hugged every curve. She threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his. "You look great."

"So do you," Rick said, trying to focus on her and not the inexplicable anxiety building in his chest.

Nikki handed him a red cup filled with something strong. "Drink up. Special occasion."

Rick took a sip, grimacing at the burn of cheap vodka. "What's the special occasion?"

A strange smile played across Nikki's lips. "Full moon. They always throw the best parties during the full moon."

Something about her tone made Rick uneasy, but before he could dwell on it, she was pulling him deeper into the house, introducing him to people—mostly large, muscular guys from the football and lacrosse teams. They all seemed to know who he was already, eyeing him with smirks and knowing glances.

"So you're Rick," said a particularly tall, broad-shouldered guy who introduced himself as Jason. "Nikki's told us a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope," Rick replied with a nervous laugh.

Jason's grin widened. "Oh yeah. We're really looking forward to getting to know you better."

By 8:30 PM, Rick had downed three strong drinks, but instead of feeling drunk, he felt increasingly alert and on edge. His skin was tingling more intensely now, and his clothes felt unbearably restrictive. The persistent erection he'd had all day was now painfully hard, with no correlation to his actual arousal level.

"Dance with me," Nikki demanded, pulling him toward the center of the living room where dozens of students were moving to the pounding beat.

As they danced, Rick became acutely aware of every place their bodies touched. Nikki pressed herself against him deliberately, her movements almost predatory. Around them, he noticed more and more eyes turning in their direction—particularly from the group of athletes who had been watching him all night.

At 8:45 PM, the first undeniable pre-change symptom hit him. A wave of warmth washed through his body, followed by a distinct tingling sensation that started at his core and radiated outward.

"Shit," Rick muttered, stepping back from Nikki. "I need some air."

Nikki's hand clamped around his wrist with surprising strength. "What's wrong? The party's just getting good."

"I just... I don't feel great," Rick said, glancing anxiously at his phone. 8:48 PM. Less than thirty minutes until moonrise.

"You're not leaving," Nikki said, her voice suddenly hard. "Not now."

The change in her tone made Rick look at her more carefully. Her eyes were bright with anticipation, almost feverish.

"Nikki, I really need to go," he insisted, panic beginning to rise in his chest.

"If you leave," she said coldly, "we're done. I could have any guy in here, you know. I chose you because I thought you were fun. If you can't even handle one party..."

The manipulation was obvious, but Rick's fear of losing her outweighed his growing certainty that something was very wrong. She was the only girl who had shown interest in him since arriving at Hamilton. And maybe, a desperate part of him reasoned, being with her tonight would somehow stave off the change.

"Fine," he relented. "But just a little longer."

Nikki's smile returned instantly. "Good boy. Let's get you another drink."

By 9:00 PM, Rick's symptoms were impossible to ignore. His skin felt like it was crawling, his erection was painful in its persistence, and waves of heat kept washing through his body. He checked his phone obsessively: 9:02... 9:05... 9:08...

The music seemed to fade into the background as his awareness narrowed to the sensations in his body and the inexorable approach of 9:15 PM. Around him, the party continued, but he noticed more and more people glancing at him, then checking their phones, as if they too were counting down to something.

At 9:10 PM, he texted Emma with trembling fingers: I think you might be right. Something's happening. But I can't leave.

Her response was immediate: I'm on my way. Hold on.

"Who are you texting?" Nikki demanded, appearing at his side.

"Just Emma," Rick said, quickly pocketing his phone.

Nikki rolled her eyes. "Always running to Emma. Come dance with me. It's almost time."

"Time for what?" Rick asked, but she was already pulling him back to the dance floor.

The crowd seemed to part as they moved to the center of the room. Rick became aware that a circle was forming around them, with Jason and his friends at the perimeter, phones held up as if ready to record.

9:13 PM.

"Nikki," Rick said, his voice shaking, "what's going on?"

She smiled, but it wasn't the smile he'd come to know over the past month. This was predatory, cruel. "Just wait and see, babe. Two more minutes."

9:14 PM.

Rick's heart hammered in his chest. The tingling had intensified to an almost electrical sensation coursing through his entire body. He could feel something building, a pressure that threatened to burst from within.

"I need to leave," he gasped, turning toward the door.

But it was too late.

9:15 PM. Moonrise.

The kick hit Rick like a lightning bolt.

An explosion of pleasure unlike anything he'd ever experienced ripped through his body from core to extremities. His back arched involuntarily, a sound between a gasp and a moan tearing from his throat as his legs buckled beneath him.

"Oh fuck! No… no no no no please!" he cried out, falling to his knees in the center of the dance floor as the first wave of transformation seized him.

The music cut abruptly. A spotlight, seemingly prepared for this moment, switched on, illuminating Rick in the center of the circle of watching students.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Nikki's voice rang out. "The moment we've all been waiting for!"

Rick barely registered her words. His body was consumed by sensation—pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, changes so profound they defied comprehension. His cock pulsed, ejaculating forcefully in his pants without a single touch, the first biological response to the transformation beginning.

"He's changing!" someone shouted. "Holy shit, he's actually changing!"

Through the haze of overwhelming sensation, Rick became aware of phones pointed at him from every direction, recording his most vulnerable moment. Nikki stood directly in front of him, her own phone held high, her expression a mixture of disgust and triumph.

"Nikki," he gasped, reaching toward her. "Help me..."

Her laugh was cold. "Help you? Why would I help a pathetic girl-fag like you? This is exactly what you deserve."

The betrayal cut through even the overwhelming physical sensations. All this time, she'd known. She'd planned this. Their entire relationship had been leading to this moment of public humiliation.

Emma was right all along.

Before Rick could process this revelation, the second wave of transformation hit. A tingling sensation spread across his skin as the hair on his arms, legs, and chest began to recede, drawing back into the follicles with a sensation like thousands of tiny pinpricks.

"Look at that!" Jason narrated loudly for his video. "All his body hair is disappearing!"

Simultaneously, Rick felt a strange itching on his scalp as his short brown hair began to lengthen, growing past his ears, then shoulders, finally settling at the middle of his back in a cascade of soft brown waves.

"Oh shit…" Rick managed to gasp, the changes becoming increasingly obvious by the second.

The next phase of transformation focused on his extremities. His hands, splayed on the floor in front of him, began to change before his eyes. Fingers narrowed and elongated slightly, becoming more slender and delicate. Nails extended into oval shapes, the beds becoming pinker and more translucent. His hands became visibly smaller, losing the masculine bulk around the knuckles and joints.

"His hands are turning into girl hands!" someone shouted unnecessarily.

The same transformation was happening to his feet, which felt strange and constricted inside his shoes. The bones were shifting, his arches becoming higher, his toes more delicate. The sensation was peculiar but not painful—a pleasant tingling that somehow felt like release.

Rick's attention was suddenly drawn to his chest, where an entirely new sensation was developing. Unbuttoning his shirt with his dainty new hands, Rick saw his nipples had begun to harden and expand, becoming more sensitive with each passing second. The surrounding areolas darkened and widened, creating distinct circles on his formerly flat chest.

"He's growing tits!" Jason called out, moving closer with his camera. "Let's see those moon-tits coming in!"

Rick watched in horror and fascination as small mounds of tissue began to form beneath his nipples. What started as barely perceptible swellings rapidly expanded outward, filling into small A-cups within seconds.

"Please," Rick begged, though he wasn't sure what he was asking for. His voice already sounded different—higher, softer.

But there was no stopping the process now. A powerful wave of change seized his skeletal structure. Rick felt himself shrinking, losing several inches of height as his shoulders narrowed significantly.

Simultaneously, his hips began to widen, creating the classic feminine curve he'd secretly envied in women. The sensation was disorienting but intensely pleasurable, drawing another involuntary moan from his increasingly feminine lips.

"He's getting shorter!" Nikki narrated, circling him with her phone. "Look at those hips spreading!"

As his frame reshaped, Rick's breasts continued their development, swelling from A-cups to full B-cups, the tissue becoming firmer and more shapely. The weight of them on his chest was strange yet oddly satisfying, as if filling a space that had always been empty.

"Look at his face!" someone called out.

Rick could feel it happening—his facial bones softening and restructuring beneath his skin. His jawline narrowed and rounded, cheekbones became more prominent, brow ridge flattened, and nose refined into a smaller, more delicate shape. His lips plumped, developing a distinct Cupid's bow on the upper lip.

Another surge of pleasure, stronger than the previous ones, built within him. This one centered lower, in his groin, where his still-hard penis was beginning to undergo its final transformation.

"Oh God," Rick gasped, his voice now completely feminine. The sound startled him—there had been a distinct popping sensation in his throat as his vocal cords thinned and shortened, transitioning fully to a female register.

"His dick is changing!" Jason announced gleefully, zooming in with his camera.

Rick could feel it happening—his penis retracting, becoming smaller, more sensitive. His testicles were drawing upward, disappearing into his body. The sensation was indescribably strange, a pulling and reshaping that should have been terrifying but instead sent waves of pleasure through his transforming body.

As his genitals continued their reconfiguration, Rick's breasts completed their development, swelling to generous DD-cups that hung perfectly from his chest. His waist had narrowed dramatically while his hips and buttocks had rounded into lush curves, creating an hourglass figure more dramatic than most natal women possessed.

The genital transformation reached its climax as Rick's penis disappeared completely, replaced by the unmistakable anatomy of a woman. He could feel the opening forming, the sensitive tissues arranging themselves into labia, clitoris, and vaginal canal. The final phase of change triggered the most intense wave of pleasure yet—his first female orgasm, radiating outward from his new clitoris and causing his newly formed vagina to clench rhythmically.

"Oh fuck!" he cried out in his new female voice, back arching as the orgasm washed through him.

And then it was over. The entire transformation had taken exactly ten minutes.

Rick—now Rachel—knelt on the floor, her male clothes hanging awkwardly on her dramatically altered body, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, her new female form fully realized. She looked up to see dozens of faces staring down at her with expressions ranging from disgust to lust to fascination.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Nikki announced, her voice dripping with contempt, "I give you Rachel Bloom, Hamilton University's newest werewhore!"

The crowd erupted in laughter and jeers. Rachel felt tears welling in her eyes, the humiliation washing over her in waves as powerful as the physical transformation had been.

"Why?" she asked Nikki, her new voice breaking. "Why did you do this to me?"

Nikki sneered. "You think you deserve an explanation, moon-slut? I saw the signs the first day I met you. All those pathetic looks you gave women's clothing, the way you talked, moved... You were practically begging to be exposed for what you really are."

"I thought you liked me," Rachel said, her voice small.

This prompted another burst of cruel laughter from Nikki. "Like you? Please. No real woman would ever want someone like you—a male failure just waiting to turn into a cum-hungry, cock-crazed little bitch."

The words cut deep, but Rachel became aware of another sensation emerging—hunger. Not for food, but something else entirely. Her eyes involuntarily dropped to the crotches of the males surrounding her, particularly the well-built athletes like Jason. She could almost sense what they contained, and her body responded with a powerful craving that shocked and horrified her.

"Oh my God," she whispered, recognizing the feeding urge she'd read about but never truly understood until now.

"Look at her," Nikki said with disgust. "Already desperate for cock. Just like her cousin."

Jason stepped forward, a predatory grin on his face. "So, Rachel, want to show us what that new mouth can do?"

Rachel scrambled backward, clutching her too-large shirt closed over her new breasts. "Get away from me!"

"Don't be like that," Jason said, reaching for his belt buckle. "We know what you need now. What all werewomen need."

"Rick!"

The familiar voice cut through the chaos. Emma pushed her way through the crowd, her expression a mixture of determination and fury. She took in the scene in an instant—Rachel on the floor in her transformed state, surrounded by jeering students, Nikki standing triumphantly with her phone still recording.

"You fucking bitch," Emma spat at Nikki, stepping between her and Rachel. "You planned this whole thing."

Nikki shrugged, unrepentant. "Someone had to expose him for what he really is. Consider it a public service."

Emma turned away from Nikki, kneeling beside Rachel. "Can you stand?"

Rachel nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure. Her new body felt foreign, its proportions and center of gravity completely different from what she was used to. With Emma's help, she managed to get to her feet, swaying slightly as she adjusted to her reduced height and altered balance.

"We're leaving," Emma announced, wrapping a protective arm around Rachel's shoulders.

"The show's just getting started," Jason protested, still advancing.

Emma's eyes flashed dangerously. "Touch her, and I swear to God I'll make sure the dean sees the videos of you sexually harassing a fellow student."

This gave Jason pause. While public humiliation of werewomen was generally tolerated on campus, explicit sexual harassment charges could still cause problems.

Using the moment of hesitation, Emma guided Rachel toward the door, shielding her from the cameras and stares as best she could. Rachel kept her head down, overwhelmed by the bombardment of new sensations—the feel of her hair swinging against her back, the weight of her breasts bouncing along with each step, the brush of fabric against her newly sensitive skin, and most disturbingly, the persistent hunger that made her acutely aware of every male they passed.

As they stepped outside into the cool October night, Rachel finally broke down, collapsing against

Emma's shoulder in heaving sobs.

"I'm so sorry," Emma whispered, holding her friend tightly. "I'm so, so sorry this happened like this."

"You were right," Rachel choked out between sobs. "About everything. Nikki, the transformation, all of it."

"That doesn't matter now," Emma said firmly. "What matters is getting you home safely."

As they walked back to their apartment, Rachel clung to Emma's arm, hyperaware of her new body and the stares of everyone they passed. The night air felt different against her more sensitive skin. Her center of gravity was lower, making her movements uncertain. And beneath it all was the hunger—a persistent, gnawing need that she didn't know how to satisfy or suppress.

"Emma," she whispered as they approached their building, "what's going to happen to me now?"

Emma squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We'll figure it out together. One step at a time."

Rachel nodded, grateful beyond words for her friend's unwavering support. As they entered their apartment and closed the door on the outside world, Rachel caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror—a beautiful young woman with long brown hair, generous curves, and tear-stained cheeks. A stranger wearing boy clothes that no longer fit, carrying memories, feeling things she'd never felt before.

"Rachel," she whispered, trying out the name that now belonged to this reflection. It felt right somehow, despite everything.

Emma stood beside her, their eyes meeting in the mirror. "You're still you," she said softly. "No matter what form you're in."

Rachel nodded, clinging to that truth as the reality of her new existence settled around her like the moonlight that had triggered her transformation—the curse that flowed in her veins powerfully, impossible to deny any longer.

Rick woke to sunlight streaming through the blinds and a momentary disorientation. His body felt normal—flat chest, angular jaw, familiar weight between his legs—but the memories of the previous night remained vivid and undeniable. For a panicked moment, he wondered if it had all been a nightmare, but the female clothes folded neatly on his desk told a different story.

Emma had helped him—her—get cleaned up and dressed in borrowed clothes last night. Rachel had fallen asleep almost immediately, exhausted by the transformation and emotional trauma.

Sometime during the night, as the sun had risen, he'd reverted to his male form while unconscious, just as the doctors had described.

Rick sat up slowly, running his hands over his male body as if to confirm its reality. The room smelled different to him now—scents more distinct, memories of sensations from his female form lingering like ghosts beneath his skin.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Rick? You up?" Emma's voice was gentle, cautious.

"Yeah," he replied, relieved to hear his own deep voice again. "Come in."

Emma entered carrying two mugs of coffee. She paused, studying him, then handed him one of the mugs before sitting at the edge of his bed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Rick laughed humorlessly. "Which answer do you want? The bullshit one or the real one?"

"The real one," Emma said simply.

Rick stared into his coffee. "Like my life is over. Like everything I thought I knew about myself just... exploded in front of everyone." He looked up at her. "The video's already online, isn't it?"

Emma nodded grimly. "It's everywhere. Nikki posted it last night with the hashtag

#HamiltonWereslut. It's got thousands of views already."

"Fuck," Rick whispered, closing his eyes. "So much for anonymity."

"I'm so sorry, Rick."

"Don't be. You tried to warn me." He took a sip of coffee, then set the mug down. "What happens now?"

Emma shifted closer, her expression resolute. "Now we deal with it. One day at a time. And first thing, we need to get Rachel some proper clothes. You can't keep borrowing mine – they don't fit right with those curves."

Rick blushed, remembering how Emma's t-shirt had stretched tight across Rachel's DD-cup breasts. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

His phone buzzed incessantly on his nightstand—notifications flooding in, mostly from unknown numbers. When he finally checked it, his stomach dropped. Texts, Instagram messages, emails—all referencing the video, most of them crude and explicit.

Saw u turn into a girl last night. Hot tits. When can I get a taste?

Hey girl-fag, do those new cocksucking lips feel as good as they look?

"Jesus Christ," Rick muttered, dropping the phone as if it had burned him.

Emma picked it up, quickly scanning through the messages. Her face hardened. "You should change your number. And maybe stay off social media for a while."

"And hide in here forever? I have classes, Emma."

"I know. But maybe take today to... process everything? We can go shopping, get Rachel some clothes that actually fit her. Maybe it'll help you feel more prepared for tonight."

Rick wanted to argue, to insist he could handle it, but the truth was he felt utterly unprepared to face the world after what had happened. "Yeah. Okay."

As they walked through the mall that afternoon, Rick felt eyes on him constantly. Had people recognized him from the video? Or was he just paranoid? Either way, the experience of shopping for women's clothing as a male was excruciating.

"What about this?" Emma asked, holding up a simple blue dress.

"It's... fine, I guess," Rick mumbled, acutely aware of the sales associate watching them with poorly disguised curiosity.

"You need to actually look at these things," Emma insisted. "They're for your body – well, Rachel's body. You should like them."

Rick reluctantly began examining the clothing more carefully, surprised to find he had definite opinions about cuts, colors, and fabrics. By the end of their shopping trip, they'd assembled a modest but functional wardrobe for Rachel – simple dresses, jeans, tops, and the necessary undergarments.

"What about this?" Emma asked, holding up a lacy black bra in the lingerie section.

Rick's face burned. "Isn't that a bit... much?"

Emma shrugged. "Rachel has needs too. Might help her feel more comfortable."

They compromised on some simple but attractive lingerie, and Rick tried not to think about why the thought of Rachel wearing it gave him such conflicted feelings.

Back at the apartment, Rick spent hours researching werewomanhood online. The hunger, the feeding, the changes to expect – all of it terrified and fascinated him simultaneously.

"Tonight's the second night of the full moon," Rick said as evening approached. "I'm going to change again. And tomorrow night. And after that, once a week between moons for the first year."

Emma nodded. "That matches what I read."

"There's more." Rick ran a hand through his hair. "The hunger. The feeding. It's not like I thought. It's not just... wanting sex. It's a biological necessity. Rachel—I mean, I—need cum to sustain the female form. Without it, I'll get weak, disoriented."

"How does that work, exactly?"

Rick's face reddened slightly. "According to the forums, either... orally or... vaginally. The tissues absorb it somehow. They call it 'feeding.'"

A moment of awkward silence hung between them.

"So tonight, when you change again..." Emma began.

"I don't know," Rick admitted. "The forums say the hunger isn't too bad the first few times, but it gets worse if you ignore it."

His phone pinged with a notification. Another text about a Beta house party, specifically requesting Rachel's appearance.

"They want me there," Rick said, showing Emma the message. "Well, not me. Rachel."

Emma frowned. "After what they did to you last night? No way."

"But what if I need to... you know. Feed? The hunger's supposed to get pretty intense by the second night."

Emma's expression softened. "We'll figure it out. But not with those assholes who humiliated you."

As sunset approached, Rick grew increasingly anxious. He'd spent the day researching, preparing, trying to mentally steel himself for the change he knew was coming at moonrise.

"It's different the second time," he told Emma, pacing the living room. "You know what's happening, but you can't stop it. And the hunger starts right away."

Emma had pushed the furniture against the walls, creating an open space where Rick could transform safely. On the coffee table, she'd placed the new clothes they'd purchased that afternoon.

"9:18 tonight," Emma said, checking her phone. "Moonrise is three minutes later than yesterday."

Rick nodded, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling fingers. This time, he'd be naked before the change began, saving the discomfort and potential damage to his male clothes.

At 9:10, the pre-transformation symptoms began—the familiar tingling, the sudden erection, the hypersensitivity of his skin. By 9:15, he was completely undressed, standing in the center of the living room, awaiting the inevitable.

"It's weird," he said softly. "Part of me is terrified, but part of me is... almost looking forward to it."

Emma sat on the couch, ready to help but giving him space. "Maybe because now you know what to expect?"

Before Rick could answer, his phone chimed with another notification. A text from the Beta house:

Heard you're changing again tonight, moon slut. Party's pumping. Plenty of hungry guys waiting for those pretty lips.

The crude message sent an unexpected shiver of anticipation through Rick's body – a reaction that disturbed him deeply.

9:18 PM. Moonrise.

The kick hit him just as powerfully as the first time, a surge of pleasure that buckled his knees and tore a moan from his throat. But this time, knowing what to expect, he managed to remain standing, arms outstretched as the transformation began.

His body hair receded first, melting away into his skin with a pleasant tingling sensation. Simultaneously, his head hair began to grow, cascading past his shoulders in waves of brown silk.

"Oh God," he gasped, his voice already higher than normal. "It's happening again."

Emma watched with fascination as Rick's hands and feet began to shrink and reshape, becoming more delicate and feminine. His nails extended into oval shapes, the joints becoming less pronounced.

Unlike the first time, Rick was now conscious enough to narrate the experience. "My chest," he gasped. "It's starting."

His nipples darkened and expanded, areolas widening as the breast tissue began to develop beneath them. Small mounds formed, quickly expanding to A-cups, then B-cups, the sensation a strange mixture of pressure and release.

"How does it feel?" Emma asked quietly.

"Like... like my body is finally becoming what it's supposed to be," Rick admitted, surprised by his own words. "But also fucking terrifying."

The next wave of change hit his skeleton. He lost several inches of height as his shoulders narrowed and hips widened. The redistribution of his center of gravity made him sway slightly, adjusting to the new proportions.

As his facial features softened and reshaped—cheekbones becoming more prominent, jaw narrowing, lips plumping—his breasts continued to develop, swelling to full C-cups, then the generous DD-cups that had characterized his female form the previous night.

"They're so heavy," he marveled, cupping them gently, the sensation sending shivers through his changing body.

The voice change happened suddenly—a distinct popping sensation in his throat as his vocal cords reshaped, followed by a testing "Hello?" that emerged in Rachel's higher, melodic tones.

Finally, the most profound change began. Rick's penis began to shrink and reconfigure, testicles drawing up into his body, as his genital area reshaped itself entirely. The sensation was intense but not painful—waves of pleasure building as the transformation completed.

"Oh fuck," Rachel moaned as the final wave of change washed through her, culminating in a distinctly female orgasm that left her gasping.

And then it was done. Where Rick had stood now stood Rachel—5'5" with generous curves, long brown hair, and delicate features. The same person, yet fundamentally altered.

"Rachel?" Emma said softly.

"I'm here," Rachel replied, still adjusting to her feminine voice. She looked down at her naked body, taking in the dramatic curves, the smooth skin, the completely altered genitalia. "It's so strange. I remember everything about being Rick, but this body feels... right somehow."

Emma handed her the new clothes they'd purchased—simple panties, a matching bra, jeans, and a cute top. Rachel dressed carefully, each new sensation a discovery. The soft fabric of the panties against her new genitals, the supportive pressure of the bra around her generous breasts, the way the jeans hugged her hips and butt.

"How do I look?" she asked, giving an experimental twirl.

"Beautiful," Emma said honestly. "But still you."

Rachel smiled, then suddenly clutched her stomach as a wave of hunger hit her—not ordinary hunger, but something deeper, more primal.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked, alarmed.

"The hunger," Rachel gasped. "It's starting already. And it's... stronger than I expected."

Her phone chimed again. Another text about the Beta house party.

"Rachel, no," Emma said firmly, seeing her glance at the phone. "Those guys just want to humiliate you like Nikki did."

"I know," Rachel said, the hunger creating a war within her. "But I need to feed, Emma. I can feel it. It's like... a physical emptiness that's getting worse by the minute."

"There have to be better options."

Rachel's fingers hovered over her phone, her resolve weakening as another wave of hunger hit her. The sensation was unlike anything she'd experienced – a desperate need centered between her legs, a craving so intense it made her physically wet with anticipation.

"I'll go with you," Emma finally offered, seeing Rachel's distress. "Just to make sure you're safe. But we leave if anything gets weird, okay?"

Rachel nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

The Beta house was pulsing with music when they arrived. As soon as Rachel walked in, a hush fell over the nearest group of guys, followed by nudges and excited whispers.

"Holy shit, she actually came," someone said, not bothering to lower his voice.

A tall guy Rachel recognized from the football team approached them immediately. "Rachel, right? I'm Tyler. We've been hoping you'd show up."

"I'm not staying long," Rachel said, trying to sound firm despite the hunger clawing at her insides.

Tyler's eyes roamed appreciatively over her body. "Let me get you a drink. Your friend too."

Emma stayed close as they followed Tyler to the kitchen. Rachel was acutely aware of the stares following her – not hostile like when she was Rick, but hungry, appreciative.

"The famous Rachel Bloom," said another guy, appearing beside them. "Gotta say, your transformation video was hot as fuck."

Rachel flinched at the reminder, but a part of her – a part she didn't recognize – preened at the attention.

"Back off, Curtis," Tyler said. "Rachel's with me tonight."

A possessive hand settled on the small of Rachel's back, and she felt a confusing mix of indignation and excitement at the gesture.

As the night progressed, Rachel found herself separated from Emma despite their best intentions. The hunger was growing stronger, making it hard to focus on anything else. Tyler stayed close, his attention both flattering and intimidating.

"You need to feed, don't you?" he said quietly when they were momentarily alone. "I can tell. That's why you came."

Rachel felt her face flush. "I don't—"

"It's okay," Tyler interrupted. "I know how it works. First few nights are the hardest with the hunger."

There was something almost kind in his understanding that caught Rachel off guard.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Somewhere more private."

Rachel knew she should find Emma first, but the hunger was becoming unbearable – a physical ache that demanded satisfaction. She followed Tyler upstairs to a bedroom at the end of the hall.

Once inside, Tyler locked the door and turned to her with a different expression – less friendly, more predatory.

"On your knees, moon slut," he said, his voice suddenly hard. "Time to feed."

The crude command should have offended her, but instead, Rachel felt a surge of arousal mixed with the hunger. Before she fully understood what was happening, she found herself kneeling, watching as Tyler unbuckled his belt.

"That's it," he said as he freed his erection. "Show me what those pretty new lips can do."

What followed was Rachel's first feeding experience – far more degrading than she'd anticipated, yet somehow satisfying in ways that confused and disturbed her. Tyler was rough, vocal, and degrading, calling her names like "cum-hungry bitch" and "pretty little cocksucker" as she serviced him.

Most disturbing was Rachel's response – not just the relief as she finally fed, but the way the humiliation itself aroused her, creating a feedback loop of degradation and pleasure that left her moaning around his cock.

When Tyler finally came, the effect was immediate and profound. The warm fluid seemed to be absorbed instantly, sending a wave of satiation through Rachel's body as her hunger subsided. The sensation was so intense that she climaxed herself, untouched, her new body responding with a pleasure that left her gasping.

"Fuck, you really needed that," Tyler observed, tucking himself away. "Tomorrow night? Same time?"

Still dazed from the experience, Rachel nodded without thinking.

By the time she found Emma again, Rachel felt physically better but emotionally conflicted. The hunger was satisfied, but the means of satisfaction – and her disturbing enjoyment of the degradation – left her deeply troubled.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked immediately. "You disappeared."

"I'm fine," Rachel lied. "Just... took care of what I needed to."

Emma studied her face. "You fed."

Rachel nodded, unable to meet her friend's eyes.

"Let's go home," Emma said gently. "You can tell me about it if you want to, or not. Your choice."

Back at the apartment, Rachel finally broke down, confessing everything to Emma – not just the feeding itself, but her confusing response to the degradation.

"I liked it, Emma," she admitted, tears streaming down her face. "The way he talked to me, treated me... it should have been awful, but it turned me on. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," Emma said firmly. "From what I've read, a lot of new werewomen develop humiliation kinks. It's like a psychological adaptation – finding pleasure in something that would otherwise be traumatic."

Rachel wiped her eyes. "So I'm not a complete freak?"

"You're adjusting to something incredibly difficult," Emma assured her. "Cut yourself some slack."

The third night of the full moon followed a similar pattern. Rachel transformed at moonrise, the process already becoming slightly smoother. This time, she had plans – a senior named Derek from the lacrosse team had texted, offering a "private feeding session."

"Are you sure about this?" Emma asked as Rachel prepared to leave.

"The hunger's even stronger tonight," Rachel explained. "And at least this is planned, on my terms."

But "on my terms" proved to be an illusion. Derek was even more dominant than Tyler had been, treating Rachel like a sexual object existing solely for his pleasure. And again, Rachel responded with that disturbing mixture of humiliation and arousal, cumming twice just from the degrading words he used while she knelt before him and worshipped his cock.

"Good girl," he praised as she swallowed his release. "Such a perfect little cum slut."

After the feeding, Derek made it clear this wouldn't be a one-time arrangement. "The guys are talking about you, Rachel. About how eager you are, how perfect that mouth is. You're going to be very popular around here."

When Rick woke the next morning, back in male form, the memories of Rachel's feeding experiences remained vivid but somehow less threatening than he'd feared. It was strange to have these experiences – to know intimately what it felt like to be dominated and degraded – but they were now undeniably part of his reality.

Rick had almost convinced himself he could maintain some separation between his lives as Rick and Rachel. The full moon nights were behind him for now – he'd have nearly a week before his next scheduled transformation.

But on Wednesday evening, just four days after the full moon, that illusion was shattered.

Derek found him studying in the library after sunset. "Hey, Bloom. Need to talk to you."

Rick tensed. During daylight, most students ignored him entirely, but after dark, the athletes who'd enjoyed Rachel's company seemed to take a particular interest in Rick.

"I'm kind of busy," Rick said, gesturing to his textbooks.

Derek sat uninvited. "This won't take long. Here's the deal – a bunch of us are having a private party tonight. We need Rachel there."

"It's not a full moon," Rick pointed out. "I don't change tonight."

Derek's smile was predatory. "That's not entirely true, is it? See, I've been doing my research on werewomen. Newly hatched ones like you can be... triggered... under the right circumstances."

Rick felt a cold knot of dread form in his stomach. "What are you talking about?"

"Visual stimulation," Derek said, leaning closer. "Specifically, this kind."

Without warning, Derek partially unzipped his pants beneath the library table, exposing himself just enough for Rick to see his hard, veiny cock.

The effect was immediate and unstoppable. A wave of tingling warmth spread across Rick's skin, and his heart began to race with the familiar pre-transformation sensations.

"No," Rick gasped, feeling the process beginning – not the full kick that came with moonrise, but a more gradual initiation of change. His skin began to tingle as body hair started to recede, and he could feel his head hair beginning to lengthen.

"Bathroom. Now," Derek ordered, zipping up and grabbing Rick's arm. "Unless you want to change right here."

Half-dragging Rick to the men's bathroom, Derek locked the door behind them and leaned against it, watching with fascination as Rick's transformation progressed.

"This is fucking insane," he muttered as Rick's hands became more delicate, face softening, chest beginning to develop the beginnings of breasts.

"Why are you doing this?" Rick gasped, his voice already rising in pitch.

"Because I can," Derek said simply. "And because Rachel needs to learn her place. Which is wherever we want her, whenever we want her."

The transformation continued relentlessly – height reducing, shoulders narrowing, hips widening to create feminine curves. Within ten minutes, it was complete. Rachel knelt on the bathroom floor, her male clothes hanging awkwardly on her dramatically altered body.

"There she is," Derek said with satisfaction. "Now, get up. We're going to that party."

"I can't go like this," Rachel protested, gesturing at her ill-fitting clothes. "And I don't have my phone, I need to tell Emma—"

"Not my problem," Derek cut her off. "You've got five minutes to figure it out, then we're leaving."

Trembling with a mixture of anger and humiliation, Rachel texted Emma from Rick's phone, explaining what had happened.

Triggered in library. Derek forcing me to go to party. Rhodes frat house.

Emma's response was immediate: On my way with clothes. DON'T leave with him.

But Derek was insistent, and the hunger – which Rachel hadn't expected to feel so soon after the full moon – was already building. By the time Emma arrived with a bag containing a dress and shoes, Rachel was practically vibrating with need.

"You don't have to go with him," Emma said fiercely as Rachel changed in a bathroom stall.

"The hunger's already bad," Rachel admitted. "And if I don't go willingly, he'll just find another way to make me."

"This is assault, Rachel. Forcing you to transform—"

"Is exactly what they're going to keep doing," Rachel finished bitterly. "I might as well get something out of it."

The party turned out to be smaller than Rachel expected – just eight guys, all athletes, in a private room at the Rhodes fraternity house. Their intention was immediately clear.

"Gentlemen," Derek announced as they entered. "Meet Rachel, Hamilton's newest and hungriest moon slut."

What followed was Rachel's most intense feeding experience yet – passed from guy to guy like a party favor, forced to satisfy each one while the others watched and commented on her technique. The degradation was extreme, the language crude and dehumanizing.

And yet, to her continued shame and confusion, Rachel found herself eagerly submitting to it – not just feeding out of necessity, but becoming actively aroused by the treatment. By the time she'd fed from the last guy, she was a mess of conflicting emotions – physically satiated but emotionally raw.

Emma was waiting outside when Rachel finally emerged hours later. One look at Rachel's face told her everything.

"Oh, Rachel," she whispered, pulling her friend into a tight hug.

"I don't understand what's happening to me," Rachel sobbed against Emma's shoulder. "Part of me hated every second of it, but another part..."

"Let's get you home," Emma said gently. "We'll figure this out."

Over the next few weeks, a pattern emerged. Alpha males from the sports teams discovered they could trigger Rachel's transformation after sunset by exposing themselves to Rick. Sometimes they did it maliciously, sometimes at Rick's reluctant request when the weekly transformation night approached and the hunger grew too strong to ignore.

Each time, Rachel emerged hungry and vulnerable, her biology compelling her to feed despite her mental resistance.

The campus social dynamics shifted dramatically. Rick became increasingly invisible during daylight hours – other students either ignored him completely or regarded him as merely "Rachel's vessel," the boring male form that housed the exciting female everyone preferred.

Rachel, meanwhile, became notorious – constantly sought after for parties, private encounters, and the feeding opportunities she eagerly accepted. Videos of her circulated widely, some consensually recorded, others taken without her knowledge.

Most confusing to Emma was the way Rick's attitude began to change. As October progressed, he seemed less troubled by the forced transformations and degrading feeding sessions. He began spending more time with the same guys who humiliated Rachel, laughing at their jokes during daylight hours, becoming part of their social circle.

"I don't understand," Emma confronted him one afternoon. "These guys use Rachel like a sex toy, and you're hanging out with them like you're best friends."

Rick shrugged, a new cockiness in his posture. "You're not seeing the whole picture. Yeah, they want Rachel at night, but they're cool with me during the day now. I'm finally fitting in here."

"Because they see you as their personal moon slut delivery system!" Emma exclaimed. "They don't respect you, Rick."

"You're just jealous because I'm finally popular," Rick shot back. "I'm getting invited to parties, meeting people. For the first time since I got here, I'm not a freak – I'm someone people want around."

Emma stared at him, hurt and confusion in her eyes. "I never thought you were a freak."

As Halloween approached, Rick and Emma's friendship grew increasingly strained. Rick spent more and more time with his new "friends," leaving the apartment for days at a time. Emma would see Rachel at parties, surrounded by guys, laughing and flirting as if she'd been born for this role.

By mid-November, Rick was becoming Rachel almost every night after sunset, either through forced triggers or, increasingly concerning to Emma, through voluntary transformations.

"You asked them to trigger you?" Emma confronted him after discovering he'd arranged to meet Jason and his friends voluntarily.

"You don't understand," Rick defended himself. "Being Rachel is the only time anyone wants me around anymore. As Rick, I'm just the boring guy who turns into the hot girl after dark. As Rachel, I matter."

"You matter to me," Emma said fiercely. "Both of you."

Rick looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "It's different. The attention Rachel gets..."

"Is entirely about using her body," Emma finished. "Not about who she is as a person."

As November progressed, the consequences of Rick's double life became increasingly apparent. His grades were slipping dramatically – he was too exhausted from Rachel's nightly activities to focus on coursework. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and he lost weight as the physical toll of frequent transformations mounted.

One afternoon, Emma found Rick passed out on the couch, textbooks open but clearly untouched, his phone constantly buzzing with messages demanding Rachel's presence at various events.

"This can't continue," Emma said when he finally woke. "You're killing yourself, Rick. And for what? So a bunch of entitled jocks can use Rachel as their personal cum dump?"

"You don't understand what it's like," Rick began, but Emma cut him off.

"No, I don't. But I see what it's doing to you. Your grades are tanking – you're going to fail out just like your cousin did if this keeps up."

"I need to feed," Rick argued weakly. "The hunger gets worse if I ignore it."

"I know you need to feed," Emma acknowledged. "But there are better ways than letting yourself be passed around like a party favor."

Over the next week, Emma threw herself into research, determined to find alternatives that would meet Rachel's biological needs without the exploitation and degradation that had become her nightly routine.

By early December, she was ready to present her findings.

"You need to see this," she told Rick, setting her laptop in front of him. The screen showed an app called MoonMatch. "It's specifically for werewomen to find respectful feeding partners. No exploitation, no public humiliation, just mutual satisfaction of needs."

Rick looked skeptical. "Those guys won't be interested in that."

"Not those guys," Emma clarified. "New guys. Men who specifically seek arrangements with werewomen – who understand the condition and respect the individuals experiencing it."

"Why would anyone want that when they can just use Rachel for free at parties?" Rick asked bitterly.

"Because not everyone sees werewomen as objects," Emma said gently. "Some people understand it's a condition, not a choice. And they want to help, not exploit."

Rick stared at the screen, something like hope flickering in his eyes for the first time in weeks. "You really think this could work?"

"It's worth trying," Emma urged. "What do you have to lose?"

That weekend, when Jason texted his usual demand for Rachel's presence at a party, Rick replied simply: Not coming. Find another moon slut to exploit.

The response was immediate and threatening: Bad choice, Bloom. See you on campus Monday.

"They're going to try to trigger you publicly," Emma warned when Rick showed her the exchange.

"Let them try," Rick said with newfound determination. "I've been reading about resistance techniques. It's possible to fight the trigger with enough focus, especially if you're not hungry."

That Sunday night, Rachel met with two new feeding partners arranged through the app—respectful, discreet men who treated her as a person first and a feeding opportunity second. For the first time, she experienced feeding without exploitation or humiliation.

"It's completely different," she told Emma afterward. "They asked what I wanted, what I was comfortable with. One of them even brought flowers. And the hunger is just... gone. Completely satisfied without feeling used up."

By Monday morning, Rick felt more centered and in control than he had in weeks. The respectful feeding experiences had satisfied Rachel's hunger without depleting his emotional resources, and he'd had a full night's sleep for the first time in ages.

Jason and his friends were waiting when Rick emerged from his evening class, their intentions obvious from their predatory expressions.

"Should have accepted our invitation, Bloom," Jason said, moving to block Rick's path. "Now we do this the hard way."

In a practiced motion, Jason and another athlete positioned themselves on either side of Rick in the crowded hallway, partially concealing their actions as they quickly exposed themselves—the visual trigger they knew would force Rick's transformation.

But this time, something different happened. Rick felt the initial tingling that preceded the change, but instead of surrendering to it, he focused intensely on maintaining his male form. The techniques he'd read about—mind over biology, resisting the initial phase before it cascaded into full transformation—actually worked.

"Not today, assholes," Rick said, pushing past them with his male form intact. "I guess your cock isn't as big or as powerful as you thought."

Jason's shock was evident. "What the fuck? How did you—"

"Turns out I'm not your personal moon slut anymore, my new feeding partners are... bigger and better than you in every way." Rick called over his shoulder, walking away with a confidence he hadn't felt in months.

The confrontation wasn't the end—the athletes made several more attempts to force triggers over the following nights—but each time, Rick's resistance grew stronger. By controlling when Rachel emerged through planned, consensual feeding arrangements, he was gaining mastery over the involuntary triggers that had made him so vulnerable.

By mid-December, Rick and Rachel had established a new equilibrium. Rachel emerged on the full moon nights as biologically required, and once a week between moons by Rick's choice. She fed through respectful arrangements made via the app, maintaining her health without submitting to exploitation.

Rick's grades began to recover as he reclaimed his days and managed his transformations more effectively. The athletes, finding their leverage diminished, eventually moved on to other targets for their entertainment.

Most importantly, Rick and Emma began rebuilding their friendship, strengthened by the trials they'd weathered together. Emma was there for Rick's planned transformations, helping Rachel prepare and sometimes even sitting nearby reading or studying while Rachel fed from her app-arranged partners.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Rick asked her one evening as they watched a movie together. "Knowing what Rachel does, what she needs?"

"Why would it?" Emma replied simply. "It's a biological necessity, not a moral choice. It's like being diabetic and needing insulin. You didn't ask for this condition, but you're handling it with grace."

Something shifted between them after that conversation – a warmth that went beyond friendship. As the semester drew to a close, Rick found himself looking at Emma differently, appreciating not just her support during his crisis, but everything about her.

"Do you want to come home with me for part of winter break?" he asked impulsively. "My parents would love to see you. And... I'd like you to be there when I tell them everything that's happened."

Emma's smile lit up her face. "I'd like that."

On their last night in the apartment before heading home for break, Rick and Emma stayed up late talking. Eventually, the conversation turned to the future.

"I never asked," Rick said. "Does it bother you that I become Rachel? That sometimes I'm... not exactly the guy you've known all these years?"

Emma considered the question seriously. "I've thought about that a lot, actually. And no, it doesn't bother me. Because you're still you, whether you're Rick or Rachel. Your laugh is the same, your kindness is the same, the way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating – all the things that make you you are constant."

"And if we were... more than friends?" Rick asked hesitantly. "Would it bother you then?"

Emma's eyes softened. "I think I'd be getting the best of both worlds. A boyfriend I love and a best girlfriend all in one package."

When Rick leaned in to kiss her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world – the culmination of years of friendship and months of standing by each other through the most challenging experience of their lives.

As the fall semester drew to a close, Rick packed for winter break with a sense of cautious optimism. His first months as a werewoman had been a trial by fire, but he'd survived. With Emma by his side and a growing acceptance of his dual nature, he was ready to face whatever came next – one transformation at a time.