My Desired Costume

Jack groaned as he rolled his head upright, heavy with a case of grogginess. He hadn't felt this bad after a night out in months. He wasn't even partying wild like his college days, it was only a few drinks with friends. He hadn't reached that age already, had he? But he couldn't remember any specifics. The whole night was a blur. Except for one moment. He left to use the restroom, when he bumped into someone he recognised. Someone that made him feel uneasy. Someone unwanted... But for the life of him, he couldn't remember anything. He gulped, he'd heard stories of people being drugged and assaulted. Was he another victim? Had this mystery person done something to him? Did they spike him? His heart sank at the thought. 

Yet as he tried to tried up to his face to rub the sleep from his eyes, he realised something most unsavory. He couldn't move his arms at all. The shock cleared his mind, allowing him to recognise the danger he was in. He was stood upright, his arms tired behind his back, his feet bound together and locked to the ground. He struggled to break free or even move from his spot, but it was no use. He was stuck. With a sigh, he looked around his environment uneasily. He wasn't just anywhere, he was in his own bedroom.

But who would drug and kidnap someone, only to leave them in their own home? There was only one way to find answers. Jack gulped and cleared his throat. "Hello?" He cried out, just loud enough for a would-be murderer to hear him. "Is anyone there? What's going on!?" There was a sudden bump in the room next door, followed by heavy footsteps that padded straight toward the bedroom door.

The First Night

PART ONE

This was it, the night of the full moon. Tonight's the night... I tried to distract myself with a cheesy movie, but I couldn't help but check the clock every 5 minutes, or glance at the closed curtains, fighting the urge to throw them open. When was it supposed to happen? Was it going to hurt? What if nothing happened, would I be okay with that? I groaned, and shoved my face into a pillow. Why can't things be easy!?

It was only a month ago when my roommate, and now closest confidante, inadvertently revealed his deepest secret to me, a month since I unwittingly put myself at risk, and a month since I was infected... That night was such a blur now. I remember Harry changing, obviously. How could I forget the moment he transformed before my very eyes, his body twisting, contorting, and growing into a full-blown weredad. I didn't even know they existed until that moment. But after that, I only had vague memories of our bodies intertwining in the moonlight, as he pounded my ass in the cold night... Then, I remember waking up the following morning, both of us still in that forest. Harry was young again, and it was clear that we both regretted our actions.

That first night after, I was questioning everything. I didn't feel any different. I didn't look any different. Harry called them residual days, where the moon still looked full, but was waning in its power. He himself still changed, but he didn't get as old as that first night. He was still daddy material, with a beefy dadbod, and salt & pepper streaks through his hair, but noticeably younger than before. Meanwhile, I was still myself. Maybe I was a little hairier, and thicker. But if I was, I couldn't tell. I began to think I was immune, which was a little disappointing. But Harry said it was all part of the process. Nevertheless, we spent those nights in the bedroom. He broke out his leather, genuinely pleased to have a use for them again, and I offered my body up to him once again. Maybe in the hopes another few rounds would increase my likelihood of gaining that weredad status.

All was forgotten as the moon continued its cycle from full to new and back again. That is until the past week. I noticed something peculiar. I was finding myself drawn to the smell of leather and fine tobacco. The taste of a rare steak, and a good brandy. I felt a desire to wear a suit and tie that I'd never consider outside of a wedding. And even stranger, I was beginning to think of men around my age as being boys, and far younger than myself. I wanted to guide them, and teach them in the ways of the flesh, as they submitted their bodies to me... Even now, I get the chills thinking about it. Surely it meant something. That I was preparing for the change. But I was too scared to ask Harry about it, in case it wasn't...