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**<<<CAUTION: The following story contains graphic, uncensored transformation. Read at your own risk.>>>

The Shift**

Written by Leo_Todrius Commissioned by Pansy04

In any given college, there were almost as many ways to decorate a dorm room as there were students - athletic, vintage, eclectic, spartan, colorful, monochrome... but there were very few rooms that were completely clean. Room 112 was the exception to the rule. Everything looked as if it had come out of a Target advertisement because that was precisely where it was from. Plastic plates, folding chairs, the bed in a bag kit, even the school supplies. It was all perfectly coordinated and perfectly clean without a speck of dust anywhere. The only hint of customization came from the spiral notebooks emblazoned with 'Oz' on the covers in various colors of sharpie markers.

It was the room of someone inordinately clean to the point of near obsession, but that was simply the way Oswald had always been... until the night of the full moon. The door to the dorm room opened and Oz moved in clutching his shirt around his arm, panting with fright and concern. The reason for the concern was apparent from the red blood soaking through the shirt, dripping down onto the carpet and soaking into the fibers to stain them. The eighteen year old was tall and skinny to the point of being lanky. He was clean cut, even geeky when he wore his glasses instead of his contacts, his blond hair hanging over his eyes just a bit.

Oz moved over to his bed and crouched down, pulling out his first aid kit. He fumbled a bit with the lid before he got it open and riffled through the contents, looking for something to tend his wound. All the bandages were too small, all the gauze so pathetic. It wasn't a kit designed for a wild animal bite. Oz still couldn't believe what had happened; it had all come so fast. He'd selected room 112 because it was the last room on a dorm at the edge of campus by the quarry. He'd hoped the easy access would let him go on walks, but he'd never expected for there to be wolves in the quarry.

The teenager slowly pulled the shirt back from his arm, hissing as the air hit his skin. His arm was caked in blood, the hair stained, but as Oz looked at his arm he had trouble finding the bite. He had to do a double take before finding the fang marks. They seemed far smaller than he would have expected and certainly not enough to produce so much blood. Oz slowly set his shirt aside and looked down before he pulled out a wet wipe from his pack. He had a feeling what he was about to do was a terrible idea, but it was the only way to sanitize the area.

Oz brought the wet wipe down and hissed as it cut through the blood, but other than the small fang marks his skin seemed completely intact, far less damage than he had expected. He hadn't gone right to the campus nurse because of the stories of how unsanitary it was, but he was starting to feel relieved. It really wasn't that bad at all. Oz cleaned as close to the wound as he could before he applied Neosporin to the largest bandage he had and wrapped it around his arm, reinforcing it with surgical tape.

As the antibiotic gel hit his wound, he sighed with relief as the pain was numbed. He held the bandage in place for a moment before he looked around, taking stock of the state of his room. He winced, seeing the stains in his carpet. He was no doubt going to get a huge fine for that. Oz looked back at his blood soaked t-shirt before he sighed, dumping it into his garbage can. He pulled the bag out and tied the top, trying to remember where the nearest biohazard bin was. Deciding to save it for later, he stood up and moved to his closet to get the carpet treatment. It was going to be a long night of cleaning to say the least.

****

The days and weeks of school had trickled by for Oswald. Summer had disappeared and Fall was in its stride. The nights were getting cooler but Oz didn't mind. He had no qualms studying hard for school. It was just part of life. He leaned back in his chair, draping his arm onto the counter. He was trying to think of a way to summarize his argument for the paper when he got distracted by the moonlight reflecting off of his arm.

Oz looked at the window for a moment before he thought back to that traumatic night. The wolf had been so vicious, the blood so plentiful. Oswald was a bit surprised that he had been able to forget it for so long. He wondered if he had been repressing it, but looking back the images started to fill his mind again. The gaping hole, the dripping blood turning from red to black, the alkali smell, the hot and sticky shirt. The idea of his insides being on the outsides were so disgusting that Oz suddenly felt a bit sick.

A hot, stinging, burning sensation hit the back of Oz's throat. He clenched his lips shut, feeling the bile. He wasn't used to reflux and tried to calm his stomach, but the mental image of his arm torn asunder came back once again. Oz tried to hold his lips shut, his cheeks bulging. He sprung to his feet, heading for the door. Each step he took sent shuddering shakes through his body, agitating the stomach that was already so very upset.

Oz reached for the door knob but it was already too late. He felt the stinging pressure build in his mouth with floating chunks in the hot sick. He had a split second decision before it leaving through his nose and leaving somewhere else. Oz opened his mouth and the thick yellow spray came out, loaded down with the chunks of corn and tofu from dinner. Oz stumbled and fell onto his knees, sending the flood out with a retching sound as he sprayed down his carpet.

His stomach cramped and compressed, causing Oz to moan as he vomited. His stomach seemed to be pumping everything out, all of the muscles working to their max. Oz felt compelled to throw up, to push and to tense... but he wasn't limiting it to just his stomach. The urge to throw up was so intense that he bore down all over, suddenly feeling a disgustingly hot mess pour out of his back side, running between his cheeks and down his shorts, spiraling down his legs before pooling at his knees.

Oz shook gently, looking at the floor with his blood shot eyes, feeling like he'd been run over by a truck. In a few short moments he had evacuated his entire body of everything from both ends. He was covered in his own juices, but worse his room was covered. The air was pungent with the scent of vomit and diarrhea, mixing into a rancid scent. Oz wanted to get up, to do something about it but he soon collapsed onto his bed, panting for breath and strength. His clothes felt too stained, too messy, too confining. He numbly peeled away what was left of his garments, dropping them into the messy pile on the floor.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Oswald wondered why some students drunk to achieve the same result. It was foul and disgusting. More than that, Oz didn't understand why it was happening. One minute he'd been fine, but then he'd been puking his guts out. He wondered if he had repressed the attack until the full moon returned, if this was his way of coping, but soon Oz moaned, a few flecks of vomit hitting the back of his already burned throat.

Oswald licked his teeth, trying to wash the acidic bile off before he rolled back onto his hands and knees. He turned around to start crawling for his paper towels before he paused, slowly lifting his head. As Oz looked up, his eyes came across the moon high in the sky, shining down on him. It hadn't just been almost a month, it had been exactly one lunar month and the moon was full again. As Oz gazed up at it, he felt a new kind of burning spreading through his body... the burning of his blood.

The young man groaned, certain now that he was having some sort of traumatic relapse. He wanted more than anything to be clean, but as he grabbed onto his bed frame for support he barely managed to get himself up. He wobbled a bit before he fell back into bed, barely lifting one leg up before pulling the other in. It felt as if he'd just run a marathon to get that far. Oz panted, disgusted by the taste of bile in his mouth. He panted and shifted, closing his eyes, trying to imagine a better place. He thought of the park, of the quarry, of the wolf that had bit him... and its intense yellow eyes.

Oswald started to thrash around a bit, his blood continuing to burn. The heat was becoming apparent as beads of sweat started collecting across Oz's body, soaking his blond hair and his shirt. His fingers dug into the mattress as he thrashed, inhaling sharply. The air was starting to smell spicy, almost musky. Oz inhaled the scent involuntarily before his chest tightened, the flesh starting to stretch over his pectorals as his chest started to grow. With each breath his pectorals swelled, but they weren't just growing. His chest itself was expanding.

The bones seemed to crack and stretch, the gaps filling in with marrow that hardened into bone. His clavicle lifted up, his ribs grew wider and his lungs seared as they stretched. Oz felt like he was dying over and over again, numbly putting his feet against the foot of his bed. His brain tried desperately to shut off as much of the pain as possible but it was an impossible task. Oz was barely able to think in the midst of the changes, no longer seeking out a reason why. Oswald's chest continued to rise into his field of vision. It was broader and more built than ever before, but it was hardly the only part of him growing.

Oz's feet pressed more firmly against the foot board of the bed as his legs ached and throbbed, stretching longer as his thigh muscles thickened. One heavy arm slipped off the edge of the bed, dangling, growing longer as if gravity was tugging at it. His biceps expanded and his triceps followed suit. Oz was growing bigger in every way, but the most excruciating change was just getting started.

So far Oz had managed to be numb through most of the pain, his brain sending off a thousand signals, having him focus on disparate elements, but a crankle noise echoed up through his skull from his neck and got his full attention. It had been the kind of wet, hollow sound that came from popping your neck... but a dozen times more intense. Oz suddenly called out in pain, arching his back as his spine started to stretch. The vertebrae pushed apart from one another, leaving slight gaps that closed again as each segment of his spine swelled and re-sealed. He gained six inches in a few seconds, his skin growing taut before strengthening again, but his back wasn't stopping there.

Oswald's back continued to stretch in a rhythm almost like his heart. His shoulders slipped up in the bed, his shoulders broadening and his back elongating. He thrashed more as his head came flush with the headboard of his bed before it lifted up and his shoulders pressed against the wood. Oz looked around blearily in discomfort, disliking his new position. He felt pinned in like he was in a wood vice. Then Oz realized he was able to think of specific parts of his body again.

While his blood was still burning, the growth of his limbs and muscle had subsided for the moment and the pain had dropped to more manageable levels. Oz tried again desperately to understand what was going on, wondering if he had some form of delayed onset rabies from the wolf. He slowly turned his head to the side and lifted his right arm, gazing at it. The flesh seemed intact still, but his arm seemed far from right. The hair was thicker, the arm was longer, the muscles larger... even his palm was bigger.

As Oz gazed at his hand, the painful sensations ignited in his forearm again, creeping up from where he had been bitten to his hand itself. Oswald screamed out as his hand started to cramp, the fingers visually throbbing and pulsing. His fingernails quivered before they seemed to flake off, leaving bloody nail beds beneath. The red started to flow down his hand, but as he watched he could see darker brown keratin forming in the messy flesh. Slowly tiny tips pushed out of his fingers, curving down into claws, thickening and firming as the blood stained skin resealed itself.

Oz froze in place, looking at the claws on his hand. Everything finally clicked together for him. He hadn't been bit by a wolf, he'd been bitten by a werewolf. The full moon, the fast healing bite, the pain and the changes. He was becoming a werewolf himself. Oswald was shocked, stunned, confused and soon unable to think again. His entire body was hit with a huge wave of pain again as his spine started another phase of expansion.

In his first bout of growth, Oz had already stretched to six feet and two inches of height, but his body was convinced that wasn't enough. Oz roared in pain as his feet and shoulders pressed tighter and tighter against the boards at the ends of his bed. As if some of the growth was redirected by his confines, his arms and legs bulged with muscle even more. Oz's leg hair grew thicker and his arm hair grew longer, both working to obscure the flesh beneath. Oz rolled his head around, panting and growling, his left hand flexing as the fingernails all but popped off to make room for the new claws beneath.

The bed beneath Oz started to audibly groan. At first it was from the weight of the occupant climbing upwards quickly with all his new muscle, but the noise increased as the stress on the headboard and footboard grew. The wood was being pried apart from the bed frame, stretching and being pushed. Oswald wasn't trying to, but his mere size managed to push the bed. Oz became aware of the situation the split second the stress finally gave way. The foot board snapped away from the bed just as the headboard popped free and Oz suddenly dropped three feet to the floor, the bed pieces tumbling every which way.

Oz panted in shock, though he soon let out a groan of great relief. His feet pushed past the end of his mattress, knocking down the foot board, extending to their natural length. No longer confined, his feet started to tingle and throb on their own. The arch of his foot increased, his heel reshaping and shrinking a bit. To compensate, the ball of his foot widened as his toes grew a bit longer. With just a few slight changes, they hardly looked human at all... though that notion increased every moment.

The skin on Oswald's feet started to swell and shift, particularly on the ball of the foot and his toe tips. The skin swelled into paw pads while his toenails stretched longer and thicker, curving down and looking more grizzled as the toe flesh grew over the tops of them to anchor them. The hair on Oz's legs grew down past his ankles and swept over his feet, wrapping around the toes and covering everything but the paw pads. As the hair enclosed his feet, it crept upwards as well, growing across his ass cheeks and hips, coating his balls and coming all the way to his pubic hair.

The hair had emerged with Oswald's natural blond coloring, looking half way between him being extremely hairy and him wearing blond fur pants... but it wasn't stopping there. Thick wisps of hair pushed out of Oswald's chest and under his arms, becoming far thicker than he would have ever let it grow. The hair on his head lengthened as well, dropping down across his face and sinking down to his shoulders in the back. Beneath the mane of hair, his cheeks soon grew fuzzy as stubble pushed out, quickly curling and shifting into fuzzy sideburns.

In a strange way, pleasure was starting to surpass the pain for Oz. He felt oddly proud of being hairy, of being muscled, of being everything he was becoming. For the first time in the process, blood started to rush to his groin. His shaft started to thicken and lengthen, slipping across his furry bush like a worm looking for food before it swelled more, slowly rising up under its own strength. The shaft lifted up proudly above him, pulsing in time with his heart, gathering more and more blood as it turned bright red, redder than ever before.

Oswald started to grin gently. He felt crazy for doing it. He had vomited and shit himself, he was drenched in blood and sweat, but he was a big hairy man with a hard cock. It seemed like the perfect way to be. Oz instinctively brought one clawed hand down, curling the fingers around his shaft, hissing in shock. His hand was so rough and tough, his cock so sensitive and big. Just touching it generated more pleasure than jacking off had before.

The changing teenager started to slide his hand up and down, his huge back arching as he thrust his hips into the sensation. Despite the pain, the fever, the seat, he felt good... It was almost as if marinating in his own juices distilled the best parts of him. He curled his animal toes and thrust his hips harder, panting slowly, his mouth hanging open. As the cool air rushed in and out of his mouth, Oz started to taste the familiar alkaline tang of blood.

Red blossomed in his mouth, blood diluting into his saliva. He was forced to take a gulp but the blood stained his teeth red, his tongue seeming darker than usual. The source of the blood had come from his gums. His teeth were pushing out more, reshaping and stretching into fangs. The gums were being abused from all sides as his face filled with more teeth than before. Everything was starting to pile up too much, but his body had a solution.

As Oz masturbated and changed, the hair that had covered his legs started to change color. The inside of his legs and his groin lightened almost to a silvery white while the hair on the outside of his legs and his ass darkened to brown and then black... and then it started to spread. The hair grew up across his abdomen and back, moving slowly towards his shoulders. As more hair grew out, it also softened into a fine fur coating. The hair on Oz's arms crept down across his hands, making them look more animal, particularly as he worked his own shaft.

The air passing in and out of Oswald's bloody mouth began to taste better, the salty musky air becoming easier to pick up. Oz took a deep breath, then another, growling in delight. Once more he heard a crankle echo through his skull, but this time he also felt it as his nose started to shift. His nostrils lifted up to face forward a bit more, the point of his nose flattening and his nose itself becoming more rectangular. Soon his jaw throbbed and ached before the bones started to extend, making more room for the over crowded teeth.

Oswald's face stretched forward, shifting from human to something else. His lips widened around his blunt muzzle and his nose looked far less human by the moment. Even his upper lip changed, connecting to his nose in a way that resembled a wolf far more than a human. Oz knew he should have been scared, but he wasn't. He knew precisely what was going on. He was becoming a werewolf. He tightened his grip on his rod and kept going at it.

With each stroke of his hand, his body continued to change. The black fur swept up the middle of his back and then his shoulders, slipping over the tops before sweeping down his arms, meeting the hair that had turned into fur there half way. His chest was dominated by silver fur, though through the growing strands there were the hints of new nipples forming down his chest, the sensitive nubs plumping up with each passing second.

Oz's stretching face stretched the amount of cheek covered with fuzzy sideburns as well, though the blond coloring soon bleached out to a pristine white before it grew under his longer chin and around his mouth. Darker fur started to sprout from his upper cheeks before surrounding his eyes and sweeping down his nose. While most of Oswald had taken on the natural coloring of a wolf, the hair on his head had remained for the most part. It was longer and softer than before, but it was still hair... hair that was slowly bleaching out to be completely silver. The moonlight coming through the window shone off of the hair like it was radiating light itself.

The changes were still painful to a degree, but Oz's brain was rewiring his sensations. To him pain was becoming pleasure and he felt great. His red cock throbbed in his hand, stretching longer and thicker. In a few short moments it had grown from eight inches to eleven and still it stretched, but it wasn't just growing. It was changing. The cock in his hand thickened, particularly at the base.

The skin seemed to bunch up around the root as two lumps formed on either side of his cock. They grew and stretched, soon looking like two halves of a tennis ball made of meat. The shaft itself grew longer to compensate for how much of the rod was dominated by the knot, spilling out of the top of Oz's hand, reaching twelve inches and then fourteen. Even the head of the cock was becoming more canine. The distinctive mushroom shape was stretching out to a tapered point, glistening red, secreting a slight sheen of juices as if it had been resting in a sheath all day, soaking in pure liquid musk.

The change of his cock brought with it certain pleasures. Pre started to drool from the cock, running down the length and across Oswald's animal fingers. Despite the great pleasure masturbating brought him, Oz was starting to get fascinated with the mess his body was creating. He pulled his hand off, strings of pre stretching between the rod and his hand before they snapped, swinging to both.

Oz brought his hand up to his changing face, looking at the web of pre on his hand before he opened his growing muzzle wide and brought out a long wolf tongue. He gave his hand a curious lick, the salty flavor seizing his mind with lust. He soon plunged his finger into his mouth, sucking it clean before he moved onto the next and the next, cleaning his hand before he moaned. His face was still throbbing, pushing out, his nose flush with his lips as it turned into a proper muzzle, but he was far from finished.

While most of Oz had been changing, a few features had been left behind. He'd developed a fine fuzz across his ears, but for the longest time they had remained human. That was no longer the case. Oswald gasped as he suddenly went deaf, his eyes clenching shut as a terrible pain filled his skull. He felt like his brain was being pushed around, his sinuses re-digging themselves through his skull. His claws grabbed at the bed and he growled, baring his fangs to the world, panting and shifting, kicking his legs at the air.

His ears migrated up his head, the old ear canal sealing itself shut. As the ears moved up, they grew into points. The points grew taller, the edges of the ear cupped forward and the fur thickened across it. The back turned black, the inside a fuzzy white before the ears reached the top of his head. Again the pain filled Oswald's skull as his ear canal rerouted itself, connecting to a new, more sophisticated ear drum.

The sounds of the world flooded back into Oz's mind and he paused, taking it all in. He could hear so much more... The fan of his computer, the other dorm members partying, even the distant traffic noise. He could also hear dripping... and lots of it. His cock was dripping, drool dripped from his chin, blood and sweat and vomit dripped from the bed frame. Oz slowly looked around the room at how messy it all was, knowing it was because of him. It was so messy that he'd never be able to clean it all up, and strangely that was thrilling.

For the first time in his life, Oswald thought about not cleaning up a mess... living with the filth, the filth he had made. It was all him after all. It was the new him; the strong him, the brave him, the awesome him, the sexy him. Oz realized he had neglected his wolf cock far too long and wrapped his fingers around it again, resuming where he had left off... but as the cock stretched to sixteen inches in length, he realized there was no reason to hold back. He soon wrapped his other hand around it as well.

Oz soon was fully invested in his masturbation, rocking his hips forward and backward. While his cock felt great, there was a certain pain in his backside. Each time he rolled back, he crushed his tailbone against his now distorted and messy backside. The bone retaliated by stretching out, growing new bones and muscles. The tail pushed his ass cheeks apart to make room, exposing his ass hole to the world and still it continued to grow.

The tail pushed down past Oz's ass cheeks and between his legs, the flesh growing black fur at an impressive rate. The tail grew fluffier and fluffier, stretching down all the way to his knees before it subsided. Oz panted more, his lycan tongue hanging out of his muzzled lips as he looked at his big tail, his big cock, his big paws. He loved it, he loved it all... but especially his cock. Oswald was about to bask in his own handsomeness some more before his eyes suddenly throbbed. He clenched his eyes shut but it didn't block out the pain. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as his eyes began their change.

It felt almost as if something was swimming around inside his eyes, pushing things around. He whimpered and panted and whined, but slowly the pain faded. Oswald hesitantly opened his eyes slowly, looking out into the world with bright amber colored wolf eyes. It seemed, at last, his change was complete. The windows to his soul had been the last to shift, but finally from his ear tips to his toe claws he was a werewolf. Furry, muscled, huge... and very horny.

Oz recovered from the eye pain to look down at his marvelous wolf cock and how big it was... so long, so juicy, so tantalizing... and then Oswald realized something profound. Between the length of his spine and the length of his cock, there was something he was fairly certain he could do now that he could never do before. Oswald slowly sat up on his mattress and leaned forward, bending his head down. The wet, drooling head of his cock brushed his nose, inflaming his senses before he opened his muzzle wide and plunged it down.

Soon the black wolf was sucking off his own member, slathering and licking at the pointed head with his tongue before he sunk even deeper, guiding his length between his bloody fangs, sucking and bobbing and thrusting his head around it. He licked and sucked, his paws freed up to massage his furry white balls, juggling them around. He even brought one hand around to slide beneath his tail, finding his ass hole, teasing it a little. He wanted to learn every inch of his body.

Oswald sucked himself silly, drawing on it and licking until his cock was practically raw, but at last the sensation pushed past the tipping point. He felt the knot at the base of his cock swell, his balls tug up and his shaft pulse before hot, salty seed sprayed down his throat. Oz gulped at it greedily, letting his senses bask in his own maleness, guzzling it down. For several moments Oz shot his spunk, so much so that it soon dripped out of the sides of the wolf's muzzle, but at last the orgasm ended.

Oz pulled off of his own rod, panting gently, groaning. He wobbled a bit before he fell back, laying in the moonlight, basking in the glow of the giant orb in the sky that had triggered his change. He had never felt quite so wonderful, quite so complete. With the pain and the lust gun, blood finally started to return to his mind. Oz thought back to the wolf that had bit him, to the healing, to the week leading up to his change. He'd had unusual cravings but he had ignored them. His body had cried out for meat and instead he had eaten tofu.

"Maybe that's why I threw up..." Oswald considered, turning his head to look at the mess on the floor. Had his body tried to get rid of the useless food? If he had been properly fed would he have grown even larger? Still, there were lots of things to consider. Specifically, if he was going to change every full moon and make a holy mess, what was the point of keeping everything so fastidiously clean? The thought was like a drug to Oswald. He thought of all the time he would save, all the things he could experience not worrying about being clean. The wolf grinned even brighter, his blood stained fangs glistening in the moonlight.

****

A number of weeks had passed for Oswald and his life had changed dramatically. He was still doing alright in school, but he had been studying the one thing he had never lived before... life. He sat under trees, he people watched, he took part in stupid pranks and activities, he dared to try the high wire across the river. Life had been transformed for Oswald, but it wasn't just the inside that had shifted for him.

People had started to take notice of Oz around campus, in both a positive way and a negative way. He was so charismatic and his excitement was contagious. Both men and women complimented the dishwater blond beard he had grown and his muscles were enviable, but his personal scent ranged between an attractive sweaty musk and too much of a good thing, turning some people on and some people off. On most days Oz would have enjoyed playing with that barrier, but today he had something far different in mind.

The sky was rich with salmon pink and purple, the sun disappearing beneath the horizon and the stars emerging. Oswald had crossed past the no trespassing signs into the quarry, moving through the piles of gravel over toward the lake in the center. The sky continued to darken as the sun dropped down, but a softer light was taking over where the sun left off. Bluish silver moonlight began falling across the quarry, sweeping toward Oswald.

As the light fell across him, Oz lifted his head to the heavens with closed eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a resounding howl that echoed across the entire quarry. The sound was intense, inhuman, even animal. Oz let the howl die off before he lowered his head and opened his suddenly amber eyes. He listened to his howl echoing into the distance hopefully, his heart skipping a beat in anticipation. The howl echoed two times, then three, then four... but finally it faded and there was silence. Nothing but the wind and the rippling water, not even crickets.

Oswald's head slowly lowered in sadness before he turned, heaving a soft sigh. He took a step toward the fence, then another... when suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood up. From the distance there was another howl, a deeper howl. Oswald felt chills roll down his spine before he turned around, looking out at the lake. On an island in the center of the water there was another figure, a young man in his twenties with shaggy brown hair and a thick brown beard. The two gazed at each other across the water before they both grinned.

Oz ran down the embankment before he jumped, plunging into the frigid water, paddling across the lake. As he swam, the moonlight continued to shine on him. The cold water was nothing compared to his boiling blood. His hands dug through the water, leaking blood as his claws grew. The water swept over his body hair as it stretched out, but Oz didn't care. His amber eyes were locked on his future, on the wolf that had changed his life, on the one that had let him shift into a brand new person.