First Night on Four Legs
You stand there on four legs, panting after the breathtaking speed of the transformation. All your senses are overloaded. Every sound, every creak of the house and gurgle of the plumbing and rustle of nocturnal animals outside, sounds loud enough to be in the room with you. Your ears twitch from side to side on top of your head to catch them all. Your vision is blurry, and all the colors are gone - giving your familiar (but surprisingly tall) bedroom the impression of an old black-and-white movie - but the fact that you can see at all is unbelievable. The room was pitch-black just a moment ago.
What really hit you the hardest, though, are the smells.
You can smell every single living thing that's been in your room in the last... well... you don't even know how long. You know some of the scents have to be at least three months old. There's a family of mice living in your wall; you can't believe you never noticed them. Every speck of dust, every inch of carpet, every piece of dirty laundry releases a silent symphony inside your nose. You run all over your room, falling down a lot on your four unfamiliar legs, to poke your newly elongated nose into everything.
A tiny part of your mind mutters that you really should clean your room more often. You ignore it. Your entire life is opening up before you in a way you couldn't have dreamed of ten minutes ago. One human has been here in the last few minutes, and you grin wolfishly when you realize it was you.
Walking becomes natural surprisingly quickly. Within minutes, you feel as if you've been a quadruped all your life, and you leap on and off of the furniture as gracefully as a dancer. You notice a strange, breezy, twitching sensation from your rear; you can't restrain a short bark of laughter when you realize it's your tail wagging.
You quickly smother that - there's no telling what will happen if you wake someone up in this state. They'll probably assume you've eaten yourself.
In fact, it would probably be best to get out of the house altogether. If someone does come into your room for some reason (and boy, will you be in trouble if they do), it would be better for them to find it empty than to find only a wolf. Besides, this is only one small, rather stuffy room. You want to get out and smell the rest of the world. You've been given the chance to be a wolf for a night - you shouldn't waste it.
Of course, you may not have a choice. Your spirits fall for the first time when you realize that your door is closed. Doorknobs are a lot harder to turn without fingers.
Written by Chrysalis on 01 May 2008
The end (for now)