Author's Note:  the following is a work of furry fiction (sort of), and as such it may contain material found to be objectionable to certain audiences.  Included in this list of squicky attributes is:  transformation, minor incest, vomit, scat and questionable parenting techniques.  If you don't like what you see, cover your eyes and LOL elsewhere.  If you want your mind raped, welcome!  Enjoy!

Happy Birthday						© MMVII Whyte Yoté

	The noise was so loud it woke Janine from her typically deep sleep, even through the earplugs she wore to block out her husband's ragged snoring.  
	Chuck sat bolt upright, his eyes and pupils wide in the pitch of the lightless room.  "Did you hear that?" he whispered to no one in particular.  His palms had begun to tingle and perspire and, had he possessed hackles, they surely would have been standing on end.
	Unplugging her ears, Janine stared at the darkness where she assumed the ceiling was.  "Yeah, I heard it loud and clear.  You don't think--"
	"I think," replied Chuck in a wavery, cracking voice.  He found his wife's hand on the comforter, steadier than his own, and drier.  
	"Oh, God," Janine groaned, though it sounded a bit more out of ennui than fear.  "What a way to have a thirteenth birthday."  
	"We need to get in there."
	"I'll go in first.  You grab the stuff from the bathroom and I'll...I'll think of something.  He sounds like he's in pain."
	“There isn’t supposed to be any, though, hon.“
	From down the hall came more thumping, and a long, low moan.  "Mommy..."  It seemed to go on forever.  But it still sounded more or less like her son, so they hadn‘t missed much.  
	Chuck shook her arm, a little too hard.  "You need to go, before the neighbors wake up.  This is bad enough without having to explain the noise,” he said, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed. 
	"You know," said Janine, throwing on her robe and tying it closed while Chuck went to the closet for a shirt, "we were told it would happen tonight, and we prepared for it, and we took the classes, but I just didn't think it would happen.  Why didn't I think it would happen?"
	Rolling his eyes, Chuck replied, "You never think it's going to happen to you until it does, and then you can't believe it.  We live in a society of denial and irresponsibility.  But we're prepared, and it'll end up okay.  You trust me?"
	"Of course I trust you," Janine said.  "But when you become a parent, you can’t predict these kinds of things.  You don‘t just sign up on a list."  She shoved a foot into a pair of pink chiffon slippers.  
	Chuck smiled a little, still looking scared, sweat forming a shining film on his brow.  "You heard the statistics as well as I did, honey.  We're in a pretty exclusive club."  
	"I want my membership fees back," Janine smirked.  “I just think I want to avoid tomorrow morning's conversation more than tonight."
	"You'll do fine.  Now go calm him down."  
	Janine fled the room, her husband close behind until he split off halfway down the hall to grab their supplies from the bathroom cabinet.  There was a momentary glow from the light Chuck turned on, but she ran through it and to the end of the hall.  It sounded like Josh had fallen to the floor and was rolling around, knocking things over as he went.  But he wouldn't be able to injure himself, not tonight.  She didn't bother to knock on the door.
	In fact, Josh had not fallen to the floor, but instead it looked like he had moved there himself from the bed.  He sat, legs askew, in the middle of the area rug his Aunt Jocelyn had made him for Christmas three years ago.  His bed was a mess, nothing that Janine hadn't seen before or yelled at him about a million times.  Pillows lay scattered about the bedposts, against the window, and by the door itself.  Nothing else seemed out of place except for her panting, sweaty son at the center of it all.
	He looked up at her and his eyes were inhuman.  
	She knew it was the first thing that had changed, but she also knew she couldn't be prepared for it.  
	"Mom..."  Josh's hair, normally soft brown and closely cropped, was much darker than it had ever been, and lay in loose, mad curls down below his earlobes.  In the orangey glow from his bedside lamp, his skin took on a ghastly jaundice pall, more oily than sweaty; normally hidden veins ran willy-nilly like a Pennsylvania highway map of purple just under the surface.  He spoke in a gravelly, post-pubescent voice that at once scared and intrigued Janine:  "Mom, I don't feel so good."  
	Janine fell to the floor beside her struggling son, where she could get a better look at him.  She ran the back of her hand over his forehead; burning hot, just like she was told she would find.  Small red pockmarks dotted his neck and upper torso, and he was having trouble breathing.  "Does it hurt anywhere?  Tell me if you're in any pain."
	"No...no pain, just...I can't breathe."
	"Dad's getting the inhaler.  We'll fix that in a second.  Anything else?  Any...tingling?"  She didn't want to say what she really meant; the hardest part of seeing Josh through tonight was going to be seeing certain things...come to “fruition” in the process.  It hurt her to ask such personal questions of such a young boy.  Her boy.  
	Josh looked at her with those dark, yellow glowing eyes.  "My skin...it feels like there's little bugs all over.  And I feel funny.  You know..."  He nodded once, glancing down for the fleetingest of seconds, enough to let his mother know what he meant. 
	"Okay, honey, it's okay," Janine held the boy and rocked him, his cheek searing against her cheek, knowing her normal body temperature was cooling him down a little.  She could feel his heartbeat on her temple and it was wild.  The only thing keeping her from breaking down right now was the knowledge that all this was normal.  That word, she had found, was much more flexible than she had ever thought.  
	Chuck burst through the doorway with his arms full of myriad items.  "Hi, guys.  Hey, Sport, how're ya doing?"  He looked much more scared than Janine did.  He also had much less of an ability to mask his emotions.  He started a bit, blinking fast when he saw his son's baby-blue-cum-goldenrod eyes, then kneeled beside the both of them, dropping his cache to sort through it.  "What's first, hon?"
	"Um, gimme the pen.  He's a little anaphylactic from the hormones."
	"Okay," replied Chuck.  "Leave it to our son to be allergic to himself."
	"Not funny."
	"Am...am I gonna get to see the Raiders tomorrow for my birthday, Dad?" asked Josh, barely above a growly whisper.  Perspiration dripped freely from his chin to his chest, soaking into the cotton waistband of his red plaid pajama pants.  
	"Of course, buddy.  Raider nation!" Chuck put a hand on his son's quivering shoulder, wincing at the heat radiating from that slender little body.  "Wouldn't miss it for the world.  Roll over for me, wouldja?  Gotta do the stab thing."
	Together, Chuck and Janine rolled Josh onto his stomach, and his breaths turned to constricted wheezes.  Unscrewing the tube and sliding the Epi-Pen out into his hand, Chuck flipped the end off to activate it.  "On three, everybody.  One, two..." and he jabbed it through the material into Josh's right buttock at two-and-a-half.  Its spring shot the needle in, and in a matter of milliseconds a dose of life-saving (or, in this case, stabilizing) epinephrine entered his system.  They turned the boy over, and Janine grabbed for the inhaler next to her knee.  
	"Mom, what did you cook?" asked Josh, leaning forward to put his hands on his knees.  His nails were quite long now, though, and time was shorter than Janine wanted it to be. 
	"Nothing out of the ordinary.  I don't think this is indigestion," Janine replied, bringing the inhaler to the boy's darkening lips.  "Hold still before you suffocate, and breathe in real deep for me."  She pushed a shot of Albuterol through into Josh's lungs.  Asthma and a dander allergy; what sore luck for Josh, of all people.  But she could tell he was feeling better already; his complexion was clearer and the inhaler worked almost immediately on his lung capacity.  He still had that wild look in his eyes, though, and it would only get wilder from here.  But now he was clutching his stomach.  
	Oh no.
	"Chuck, get the Visqueen down, now!"  Chuck didn't need to be told twice; he'd seen Josh and was getting up when his wife gave the order.  "Just get it over the rug, enough to catch the mess.  Josh, honey, I need you to stand up for me, and for heaven's sake, try to hold it in for a minute."
	Josh was turning a pale pallid color, and he had finally noticed his newly-grown nails.  "Mom, what's happening to me?  My nails are all weird."  This was followed by a few dry-heaves, and Josh wasn't so worried about his nails anymore.  	
	"Don't talk right now.  It's okay."  At least that was what Janine was trying to convince herself of, for her own sanity.  She looked around; Chuck had been quick about spreading the plastic covering over most of the floor between Josh's bed and the door.  Janine led her convulsing son back onto the rug just in time for him to bend double and deposit a healthy dose of vomit, an angry reddish color, onto his feet and out two more feet in every direction.  She knew there was blood in it, but that was supposed to be natural too.  "An expiation of the old," they had been told.  
	Bullshit, she thought.  It's gruesome, is what it is.  
	Josh held his stomach, now distended and pulsating, as two more loads of the rank stuff exited his system, spraying bits of Janine's Chicken Carbonara and raspberry Jell-O to the very edge of the plastic, but thankfully not beyond.  From behind her, Chuck retched a little in sympathy but held his own dinner.   Janine was too busy to be sick.  
	"Here, get on your knees.  Don't worry about the mess," she pushed Josh down into his own sick so he wouldn't end up slipping and breaking his exposed neck during a convulsion.  "That better?"  Josh nodded, eyes on the floor.  
	"We need to get him out of his pants before it happens," said Chuck.  
	"Do we have to?" Janine snapped immediately, perhaps too curtly.  "I mean, there isn't any way around this?"
	"I don't need my pants off!" protested Josh in between wet choking sounds.  "Why do I need my pants off?"  It killed Janine how lost her son looked right now; he had no idea what was going on beyond the fact that he was incredibly uncomfortable and quite scared by now.  But no pain; there wasn't supposed to be any pain.  
	Chuck chimed in, for the first time, with a more fatherly voice than he usually used around Josh.  "Son, I understand that you're going through a difficult time right now, and there are things you might not want to do.  But this is one of those times where you should listen to your parents and not question what we say.  Do you trust me enough to do that?"
	"Dad..."
	"Do you trust me, Josh?" said Chuck again, very sternly, though his voice was threatening to reach octaves previously beyond his reach.  He took his son's hand (a bit deformed, and hairier than usual) in his own and held it tight.
	"I'm embarrassed."  The vomit no longer existed; neither did the yellow eyes or bulging tummy.  It was just Josh the kid, the scared little kid.  
	"Don't be.  Give us a break, Sport.  We'll talk about it in the morning."
	A couple of tears of not knowing and fear and panic, streamed down over Josh's alabaster cheeks, pausing near the strong straight jaw his father had given him.  "Okay, fine."  Janine nodded to her husband and, as a team, they rid the boy of the last of his decency.  After they tossed the pants to the side, he kneeled, covering his groin as a young boy is wont to do in front of an audience, but still looking close to vomiting again.  Thankfully, nothing was left to vomit.  
	"Alright, Josh.  Can you relax for me?"  Chuck was holding Janine around the waist as they watched their naked boy's body slowly moving about and rearranging itself.  "I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to get on all fours.  Hands and knees, okay?  You'll be more comfortable."
	"Mom?" Josh looked toward her as if she might be of a different mind.  
	"Obey your father, Josh.  Believe me, it'll feel better."
	"Oh my God, this is stupid, just so stupid.  Don't I need an ambulance?"  Though he was reluctant about it, Josh maneuvered himself around to the position required of him, taking special care not to reveal his sex to his parents.  At thirteen (he had come of age about forty minutes ago), it was a deathly embarrassment to him.  Janine was sure he had forgotten, only seven years ago, how hard it had been to keep clothes on him at all.  
	"No ambulance, Josh.  Just time to adjust.  You'll see in a few minutes," said Chuck, trying to keep the whole thing as medically sterile as possible.  Janine knew that if her husband started to think about the enormity of it all, he might likely have a nervous breakdown.  She herself was beyond that point; adrenaline was the only thing keeping her focused at the moment.  "Now doesn't it feel better?  More natural?"
	"Well, I'm not uncomfortable anymore.  Maybe it's gone."  And with that, Josh's back snapped up around the middle of the spine, making a tent out of skin but not breaking through.  Chuck suppressed a sickened sob, Janine suppressed a scream, and Josh suppressed what sounded like the beginning of a moan of ecstasy.  This was the point at which things were supposed to start feeling good, just like the doctors had said.  Maybe for the kid; the parents were another thing entirely.  
	A long, clear string of thick drool made its way from Josh's purplish, extended lips to the plastic-coated floor beneath him.  No one in the room noticed the acrid odor rising from below.  The boy's parents had done all they could.  This was the point past which they could only watch and ensure Josh didn't hurt himself or them until he was done.  For some parents, they had been told, this was the hardest part:  the watching.  Janine, however, heaved a tremendous sigh and collapsed into Chuck's side.  She hadn't been this exhausted since her mother died..  
	Josh was much too focused on his changing body to pay any attention to remaining decent.  As his spine curved and collapsed in places, he had to forego his modesty for comfort and spread his legs open.  As soon as his penis was free, it began to harden and rise toward his stomach.  Halfway to full erection, the boy uttered a high-pitched bark through his new long, swollen gullet.  He moaned low, and a stream of urine flowed forth to puddle on the Visqueen between his arms.  The stream rose and changed angles as Josh continued to grow, until it sprayed into his navel and dripped off of his chest.  It was his body's rejection of its human fluids despite his arousal’s natural tendency to cut off urine flow.  Josh turned to look at his parents with one last, plaintive I-don't-know-what's-going-on look before he thrust forward and grimaced, expelling the contents of his bowels to mix with the rest of his fluids.  Despite his blushing and tear-soaked face, he clearly was receiving pleasure from the movement.  It sprayed forcefully out from his loins, emptying them quickly and efficiently.
	Thusly cleaned out, the changes began to accelerate.  Josh's entire body seemed to darken in color, when in fact it was sprouting millions of tiny grey-black hairs everywhere, from his nose to his fingertips.  In a matter of minutes it would be grown in fully, just in time for the rest of his body to catch up.  His ears were already pointy, flicking back and forth while migrating to the top of his head.  The sounds coming out of his mouth/muzzle were no longer human, nor adolescent.  In fact, Josh was making decidedly canine sounds, but it was clear he was trying to form his long, black lips into English words.  His pink, floppy tongue struggled, but after biting through it a few times with newly-sharp teeth, he gave up.  
	"Josh, just let it come, okay?" begged Chuck, who looked like he just could not justify what he was seeing as actuality.  "You're still fighting.  Fuck, oh fuck, what am I saying?  Lay down!"  Josh complied, his four paw-like appendages pedaling at the air, and once freed of their contact with the ground they rapidly shrank and withdrew, retracting the long nails and sprouting thick black pads where the boy's fingerprints used to be.  That was particularly hard for Janine to watch, her son losing such a personal identifying feature.  But they were gone, Josh's legs had broken and twisted around, and everything had slimmed down to a much smaller body.  A small line of fluff appeared from behind one leg, poofing out into a tail like a flower opening in a time-lapse video.  
	Suddenly, with a throaty half-howl and a wide-eyed glance to Mom and Dad, the Josh-thing tried to stand up on two legs, only to stumble and fall to three.  He coughed (as only a dog can) and, rather garishly, showed his crotch.  His erection, only three inches before, had lengthened up his belly and now stood at a good seven inches, the first three covered by an advancing sheath of skin and fur, shorter than that covering the rest of him.  Janine, though she didn't want to look but knew she had to for Josh's safety, saw her son's pained look and shouted to Chuck, "The thing!  The...the thing!"
	"What?"
	"The sheath!" she shouted, pointing at the offending organ, "You need to pull his sheath down before he...you know..."  Her wrists flicked around limply, letting Chuck figure it out for himself.
	"You can't be serious."
	"I can't do it; I'm his mother!"
	"So, because I'm his father, it makes it all better?  You're fucking crazy!" 
	"Chuck, I will divorce you right here and now--"
	"Okay, fine.  God, just help me please..." Chuck murmured as he leaned forward, extending his hand.  Josh the wolf-thing lifted a forepaw as much as he could and practically tried to mount his father's forearm.  Fighting the urge to command Josh, “Down!“, Chuck grasped the forming knot behind the rest of Josh's transformed maleness.  In one fluid motion, he pulled the sheath back and over it, exposing its red girth and causing Josh to emit a sound that could not be misconstrued as purely thankful and aroused.  
	Chuck pulled his hand back as the boy-wolf hunched against the air, the moist flesh of his spike bouncing and firming with the motion.  His body almost fully formed, the doctors said this was the last stage before everything was complete.  Josh's body couldn't finish the initial change until he had expelled everything, including sperm.  It only took a few thrusts against his fuzzy belly before he dropped to all fours, stood and squatted.  And Josh smiled, wide and decidedly lupine, showing a full complement of teeth and drooling profusely while his lower half sprayed thick, opaque globs of human semen onto the rest of the waste below.  The long member pulsated and dripped until the fluid came out thin.
	"I don't know about you, but I never want to go through this again," said Janine, while watching her thirteen-year-old wolf-son ejaculating all over his mess of a bedroom floor less than three feet away from her.  He was mostly done now, and as Janine looked for anything they had missed, she got her first look at his completely formed new body.
	"Me neither, and if we do it will be too soon," Chuck agreed.  "He should have the ability to control it after tonight, shouldn't he?"
	"Supposed to, after tonight."
	"Thank God."
	"Yeah."
	Josh cleared his lips of drool and jumped onto the bed (taking his emissions with him) to clean himself.  Only a few licks and he was all sheathed and hidden again.  Janine held onto her husband's left arm.  The grey-black wolf on Josh's bed, now clean, stood and looked at his parents, head cocked inquisitively.  Even now, he wouldn't be sure of what had just occurred in the past ten minutes, or why.  But right now, it seemed his curiosity for exploring outside might be better fulfilled than denied. 
	"I think he wants us to let him out," said Chuck.
	"Um, okay.  You sure he'll come back?"
	"He’s got a lot of pent-up energy.  We’re supposed to let him run.  Besides, he cn find his way back.  Lord knows he rides his bike around enough.  Don't you want to get back to sleep?"  Janine looked at him, and it was all the answer he needed to see.
	They led the wolf to the front door and opened it.  Josh trotted out to the middle of the yard and stopped, sitting on his haunches and waiting for...neither Janine nor Chuck really knew.   
	"Go on, Josh...can he understand English still?"
	"I think so," said Chuck.  "I never asked that question."
	Janine flicked her wrist at her wolf-son.  "Honey, go out and explore, or run, or...something.  We'll talk about it in the morning, after you come back and sleep nice and long.  Don't get into trouble, and stay away from cars."  As Josh finally turned and ran, full-speed, down the street, Janine murmured, "I can’t believe I just told my son not to chase cars.  Did I do okay?"
	Chuck held her tight.  "You did wonderful.  I think we handled that as well as any parents can be expected to handle it."
	"Good.  Now we get to clean up the mess in the room."
	"Oh, it's just a matter of wrapping it up and tossing the plastic in the dumpster down the street.  Remember the horror stories the other families told of their first nights?"
	"I know.  I love you, Chuck.  You know that?  I think we did all right."  Janine held her husband tight as they shut the door and walked back to Josh's room, the smell of it wafting down the hallway and reminding them of how intense it had been--for all of them.
	"Love ya back, honey," Chuck said.  "Education is the key, remember.  I think he'll be okay after this.  We have to let go sometime."
	"But what happens next month, with the full moon?  Are we going to have to plan around this all the time?  What about when he goes to college?"  Janine went silent as Chuck placed a finger to her lips.  
	"Shh.  We can worry about that in five years, when he's old enough.  Maybe we can tackle the driving thing first?"
	"Oh, God.  Now that scares me.  Josh behind the wheel?  That worries me more than the wolf thing."
	"Nah, he's a good kid.  He'll be okay," Chuck assured her as he split off to the garage to grab some towels and Lysol.  "Hey, honey?"
	"Yeah?" 
	"Happy Birthday."
	Janine smiled.  Josh was going to be okay, after all.  

										FIN
										8/12/07