Waxing Gibbous
Alphas are born, Omegas are bitten.
The son of an Alpha and an Omega chosen from all the women in the Manhattan metropolitan area, Billy Kaplan was expected to be a very great werewolf indeed. The birth of the child of an alpha, though obviously kept out of the human papers, set the lycanthrope community in the city metaphorically ablaze. From the moment of his birth, as the babe peeked out from behind his curtains of jet black hair, the question abounded: when would he ascend? And what kind of woman would he bite, making her his queen?
The idea that this unsuspecting Cinderella, still at this moment a lowly human, could already be out in the city, maybe even now taking tentative, teetering steps or even uttering her first words, was raised and duly dismissed; after all, what real man picked an older woman? And an alpha, no less.
Billy did not remain a baby forever but instead opted to grow into an adult. The dark hair of his youth remained and though his frame was more slender than was expected of an alpha, his shoulders less than 14 inches combined, he had a fair amount of muscle on his arms and maintained an athletic build through his not infrequent visits to the gym. Besides, the werewolf elders reminded their community when called on for historical precedent, King Romulus had been a slight man but a ferocious wolf, never leaving any in doubt of his potency.
Unfortunately for the New York set, they would never get to see Billy's lupine form. The boy showing little tendency towards aggression, another trait the elders cited in some of their most celebrated kings although it upset their more bellicose members, and his father being in rude health, it seemed unlikely that Billy would be able to take his place at the uppermost echelon of society for decades, until an opportunity presented itself.
The Alpha of London, childless, meeting his end by a silver bullet left a gap at the top which felt perfect for the young prince. The lycanthropes of England, omegas all though possessed of a haughtiness that their American counterparts thought risible, found themselves groveling, hat in paw, for leadership. Although at sixteen Billy had yet to transform, there could be no doubt that he would cut a fine figure as the king of London and teach the British wolves some necessary humility. And so Billy departed his parents, his mother weeping, his father saying his goodbyes the night before and foregoing seeing his son to the airport, and took up residence at the Four Seasons in London, as the city's wolves awaited an Alpha to shepherd them.
With an impressive display of emotion, Billy matched his mother's tears before boarding his flight where he finally allowed a smile to grace his features. But it was not only excitement stoked by his new life nor the luxuries of flying first class that animated his expression; it was relief.
The London werewolves had expected an American, and an alpha no less, to be brash, gregarious, forthright and headstrong to the point of vulgarity, a decisive juggernaut of unconsidered momentum; in Billy they received an impassive stoic who demured to give an opinion on any topic and, despite his growing charm as his features set themselves symmetrically and his sporting pursuits added their tweaks to his physique, disdained to be seen. A Medusa with the face of Adonis. It was most odd. What would have been celebrated in an Englishman was considered most uncouth from a visitor. Add to that in the coming years rumours that the prince had transformed but was withholding his true self from the masses and a picture of a disdainful elitist was soon put in place. The British huffed, but at least that sounded like a proper king. Besides, he would have to show himself to at least one of them; he'd soon need to select a bride.
Billy put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the handle and then triple-locked the door. Tonight was waxing gibbous, the moon before the full moon, a night of transformation. He had to act fast.
First, he drew all the curtains, opened by the cleaning service, then locked the windows even though he knew it to be pointless, as his lupine self had overcome this barrier before. He mostly hoped that maybe his alter-ego might learn to consider why the windows werr locked. He threw one of the hotel's towels over the full-body mirror in the corner and another over the one above the sink in the bathroom. He put away a vase, a twenty-first birthday prssent from his mother, in the cupboard beneath the flatscreen TV and stashed his wallet in the hotel safe; he had never spent money in wolf form, but he was terribly worried about losing it. His phone he left charging on the left bedside table, as he could never remember his passcode as a wolf anyway. He double-checked that his alarm was set even though he knew that he'd requested the evening shift at the gym the next day. Finally, he stripped down to his tight, white Givenchy briefs and sat down to wait at the end of the bed.
Billy hadn't bothered to shower after his workout, knowing that he would soon be covered in fur anyway, and the sheets clung to his sweaty skin. His core ached, but looking down at his six pack, he knew it was worth it. 'But who will you show it off to?' jeered a nasty voice at the back of his head.
A jolt through his back told him that the moon must have crested the horizon. So, his transformation was starting with his tail this time. The beginning was always different even if the end remained bitterly constant. He lowered the waistband of his briefs enough to let the tail, already furry and wagging, burst from the end of his spine, bringing with it a flowering of dark fur on his pert ass, with his thighs and lower back soon joining in on the fun, the fur pushing its way through the pores. His nails sharpened, easily the most bearable of the changes, even as his ears literally pricked, their smooth roundness stretching to a triangular point, before beginning to migrate up his skull, with a sensation like silk handkerchief being dragged along the inside of his skull; not unpleasant, just deeply odd. The fur was well on its way to dominating his body, his legs now entirely covered and his torso being mostly subdued, although, and Billy was ashamed to admit how grateful he was for this, the hairs on his abs mostly served to highlight the definition of his muscles rather than covering them. The head was next, a prickling alerting him to the fur curling over his face, as his nose did a double-take, at first moving down and out, snubbing itself into a dark, wet heart-shape before suddenly shooting out, dragging his jaw with it and giving Billy a muzzle. He watched as his firm, square pecs received their fur and his hands and feet stretched into long paws, similarly hairy, and prayed that that would be the end of it. He'd wished the same thing ever since he'd first transformed shortly before his seventeenth birthday, always in vain. For then he felt the stirring in his loins, as his penis and testicles retreated into his body. Billy would not take off his briefs to look, but if he had, he would have seen, between his legs, a fully-formed vagina.
The son of an alpha, with a cunt.