Diurnal Vaginal episode
Thankfully, the front desk clerk didn't excite any feelings in Billy; a waifish man with sallow skin and an unconvincing moustache. He did manage to puff out an "Are you alright, sir?" as Billy was waiting for the lift to his room. Billy nodded, clutching at his stomach, Teddy's visage appearing before him every few moments, prompting a new churn of nausea. The lift itself did little to settle the stomach, the vertiginous journey upward simply pulling his guts in a new direction. The polished mirrors adorning three walls of the box provided Billy with a picture of himself: pale, sweating, lips quivering...unmanly. He shuts his eyes and pressed his forehead against the glass.
In his room, Billy was horrified to find that the cleaner had opened the curtains and sunlight was streaming in. He lurched around the room, dragging the room back into anonymous darkness and then peeled off his clothes, standing completely naked in front of the mirror. Too scared to switch on the lights, he forced himself to look at his reflection. He hated the way that his body was divided neatly into two sections, upper and lower, with nothing to bridge the gap between the two, the way the v-lines on his abdomen, hard-won through exercise, lead to nothing, the way he just seemed to stop short, his body giving up early. The vagina itself was unassuming, small and reserved, the slit giving nothing away, gracefully and happily nestled in between his legs. As it had the first time he'd transformed, and a few nights after that, Billy found his right hand inching towards the cunt but he grabbed it with his left; down that path lay degradation. He must resist.
He threw himself backwards onto his bed and contorted his nude body so that as much of his flesh as possible was pressed against the cool silk pillows, although he pushed his crotch away.
Scrunching his eyes shut and trying to force sleep, Billy found Teddy's face writ large on his eyelids, the granular details magnified, the stylish gold beard recreated to the last inch, the placement of eardrum in lobe representing a golden spiral, the electric blue of the eyes shining long and far, rendering impossible the darkness that Billy wished would descend. He flipped over a few times, tried reciting times tables or the script to The Lion King from the beginning but though these thoughts might briefly eclipse Teddy in his mind, inevitably the natural orbit reasserted itself and Teddy rose once more into view.
Opening his eyes, Billy switched on the TV. Presenting the news was a man, a few years older than Billy. Svelte, fresh-faced, royal blue suit accentuating the hint of muscle in the arms, an upturn to the lips that hinted at a world of fun, hair slicked down, touching his face the way that Billy so wished to.
Why did they allow this smut on TV? Billy changed the channel but found himself confronted with a rugged survivalist, many years Billy's senior, the type to take no nonsense and hold you in his arms long after sex was finished; the next channel presented a larger man, a chef, seductively licking icing off his fingers; after that was men's diving, dozens of speedos waiting to be rubbed.
Off went the TV. Billy stared at the ceiling, noticing for the first time how rich the purple was. It looked deep, like the space between Teddy's arms.
Billy was gay.
There was no other possible explanation for these feelings. The hole between his legs wanted to be filled by a man. Billy had never felt erotic frissons before, but the overwhelming computations that he sensed within himself, the tidal churning that bore him to turn back on the TV and stare at the divers, the melody that played in his blood when he imagined Teddy lifting him up...what else could this be?
He tried to imagine a woman he had been reliably informed was attractive and settled on Emma Stone. He was a fan of her work and could easily call to mind her appearance. In his imagination, she wore one of her red-carpet dresses and he tried to remove that garment. His imagination went dead. He didn't wish to know what lay under there. Billy couldn't disrobe the lady; he was too chivalrous, too noble, too gay.
Giving a theatrical moan, Billy then felt a shift in his stomach. He propped himself up on his elbows to look at his nether regions. Upon awaking from his werewolf state, his penis and testicles had always already regrown and so he had never felt the squelchy, viscous sensation of his organs reinstating themselves. Though unpleasant, it made him want to weep with joy. He was himself again.
There was no time to try and figure out what had happened or how to prevent it in the future: there was business to attend to.
Billy grabbed his laptop from the bedside table and began to look up straight porn. He corrected this in his head to just 'porn.' He watched as a redheaded woman, her large breasts tremoring, was repeatedly driven into a bed by a man who kept his back resolutely to the camera. Billy stroked his dick, but it lay like a fish in his hand.
The angle of the camera was alienating, Billy decided. He clicked onto another video, with both participants in the frame. The camera seemingly lying on the bed to the woman's left, capturing both her and her man, an imposing and dominant figure, towering above her, the main light source behind him, bathing in gold the gentle hills of his biceps, the sturdy tower of his neck, the wide, flat, taut plains of his pectorals. Billy wondered what it would be like to be underneath the man. His dick began to tumesce.
Clearly lesbian porn was in order. Billy had shut his laptop within twenty seconds. His dick had reappeared and had made its intentions clear. It only wanted other men.
Peeling himself from the sheets, Billy slank over to the shower. As water cascaded over him, he imagined it stripping a substance from him, til now invisible but revealing itself to be bright pink and clinging to every part of his body. Liquid ran down him, finding evey niche, clearing every cranny, purifying every pore until the gay had all been washed away. The shower gel, which smelt of chemicals and mammaries and a family and heterosexuality was applied vigorously, rubbed deep into his muscles and then, reluctantly, rinsed off.
As he towered himself off, the cloth gliding over his basketball ass, Billy wished it could be as simple as showering himself straight, but immediately Teddy's visage was before him again, endlessly fascinating.
He was definitely gay.
What would he tell his parents? He didn't know. What would this do the line of succession? He didn't know. Would this jeopardize his position as prince and eventual king? He didn't know. All he could focus on at that moment was his immediate plans.
Teddy had wrought the unwarranted change during the daytime, that much was clear. Before the full moon that night would bring back his vagina, Billy composed an email to the gym explaining that he would not be in the following day or possibly for the rest of the week, keeping the reason vague as 'illness'. He recommended that they reassign his personal clients, including the new guy (Teddy, was it?) as he wasn't sure when he'd be returning. Once this was sent, Billy tried to think of a film to watch that contained no attractive men. However, it seemed Hollywood picked their lead actors well, as almost all of them merited at least a twitch from down below. Even adult Simba stirred something.
The shadows lengthened and Billy once more prepared himself. He had almost hoped that, given his diurnal vaginal episode, he might be allowed to retain his anatomy but it was not to be. He watched his dick disappear and steeled himself for another night as a wolf.
***
Billy awoke, his neck sore and his legs cramped. He was not in his own bed.
Rough wood beneath his legs, metal on the back of his head; Billy was sat on one of the benches in the changing room of the gym. He looked down to see a pink lace bra grabbing his chest and matching panties enmeshing his cock.
He heard voices from outside, moving closer.