The Alpha's New Clothes
The sunlight woke Billy before his alarm could. The breeze on his leg suggested that his wolf self had left the window open, which meant he had been out. He moaned and slowly sat up. He could feel the slither of silk on his crotch, slight constriction on his chest and a distinct presence on his ass crack.
Looking down, Billy found he was wearing a matching bra and panties set. They were black silk, with lace trim along the edges, and the panties sported a bright pink bow at the front; given the feeling in his ass, Billy assumed it was a thong. His other self had been "shopping."
Billy ducked low, beneath the visible portion of the window and reached up to pull the curtains back where they should be. Then he stood up and found that the towel had been removed from the mirror; before him stood a compact man, all the mass one would expect but in a short, narrow package. The lingerie sat almost absurdly, he thought, against his muscles: the soft, curvy bra contrasting the angular pecs, the bow blooming coquettishly beneath the regiment of his abdominals, a daisy in a rock garden. He was relieved at least to see the bulge in the panties, his penis returned. He took a quick peak at his ass, the rim of the thong, diaphanous, contoured the ovoid ass cheeks like a moth's wings.
Divesting himself of the accoutrements, Billy sighed at how accomplished he had become at removing a bra from his own back. Billy placed the stolen vestments among many others, various cuts and colours but all unmistakably lingerie, in the safe, the only place he could be certain that the hotel staff wouldn't find them.
There were several hours before he needed to head to work, but Billy doubted that he would be able to get back to sleep and so he headed to the shower. He treated himself with a generius helping of the papaya conditioner that sweetened his day whenever he moved his head fast enough that a burst of the scent met his nose. He let the water run over him and imagined the shame, red and treacly, clinging to where the lingerie had sat, trickling away with the sweat.
He knew that he was lucky; he remembered his father's many tales, imparted repeatedly at dinner parties to captive audiences of the werewolf elite, of awaking after a lupine night naked in Central Park, on the floor of Studio 54 or, and Billy had never quite accepted the veracity of this story, atop the torch of the Statue of Liberty. Billy's wolf form always returned to the place where he had shifted, even if he did glam up in the interim. His mother, though not as braggadocious, also hinted at the playful nature of her lupine self, with offhand mentions of crashing penthouse parties and, one time when New Year's Eve coincided with the new moon, riding the golden ball on the way down before leaping into the crowd.
Billy, though glad he didn't have to deal with the fall-out from such escapades, did rue his own timidity; what would he say at dinner parties? How would the king entertain his court? Would people be willing to listen to his edicts if his normal conversation was so stultifying? He certainly couldn't mention the bra theft, it was unbecoming for an Alpha. Perhaps his eventual wife would have enough stories for the both of them. He supposed this was why no women that he met interested him, he must be looking for someone with more life experience.
Stepping out of the shower, he was greeted by a message from Kate. She had lived at the hotel for a few months the previous year while her flat was being remodelled and, after a month of seeing him in the lift day after day, had finally sidled over and asked if he lived there too or if he just liked the twentieth floor. It wasn't that funny but Billy laughed anyway and she invited him for coffee the next day. Kate was possibly the most caffeinated person Billy knew, a human arrythmia. She wanted him to meet her at a café down the street, a favourite haunt of hers with art on the wall which must get sold frequently given how often it changed, although Billy couldn't imagine who would want to buy it. He texted back in the affirmative and then pulled on a clean pair of red briefs and glanced once more at the mirror. They were certainly less eye-catching than his previous attire. He snorted to himself.
"I wish you'd let me throw you a birthday party." Kate sipped at her espresso which singed Billy's nose hairs from the opposite end of the table. "You need to meet more people."
"You're more than I could ever need, Kate."
"And when are you gonna get your own place? That hotel is dreary."
"I don't remember asking for another mother."
"'Another?' You don't have one from what I can see." Kate dabbed the edge of her mouth with a napkin. "I'm sorry, that was too harsh, I don't know why I said it."
"It's okay."
She looked at one of the pictures on the wall next to them, a series of impressionistic humans next to animals with the eyes swapped between the species. "This is the worst set yet," she roved her eyes around the café, taking in all the paintings.
"I actually think this one's a step above the usual stuff. It has an idea, at least."
"What's that?"
"The beast inside us all." Billy sipped his tea, "Or some nonsense like that."
"You can come stay with me if you want. I have the room." Kate reached out a hand to Billy. "If you're lonely."
"I'm fine, thank you. Really, thank you, that's very generous."
"You have to come out at some point."
"Hmm?"
"From the ivory tower."
"Oh."
She drained the last of her drink. "Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
"Nothing serious." Nothing at all.
"What's your type?"
Billy took a deep gulp of the coffeethat he hadn't really wanted, "I'm still trying to figure that out."