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Stan kept his face in the pillow. He watched the doorway with one eye as Kyle stepped into the room, turning the chair to face him and sitting down. "How are you feeling?" Kyle asked. "Shit," Stan mumbled through the pillow. "My body hurts."
"Yeah? Is that the old age or the lycanthropy?" Kyle snickered. "Oh, don't start that, you're as old as me," Stan smirked but he quickly dropped the smile as he felt himself slowly begin to tense up and turned over on his back. "How much time do you think you have left?" Kyle asked. "A few minutes, maybe. The moon's being a bitch tonight." Stan answered with a pained groan. "She hasn't even come out yet," Kyle replied.
"She must be good at ruining my life." Stan retorted.
"She isn't that mean. Not her fault the disease uses her anyway."
"She should understand why I'm upset, though."
"Fair point."
The two stayed quiet for a minute more before Stan suddenly sat up and squeezed his head in pain. "Fuck!" He shouted. Kyle quickly came to Stan's side and put his arm around Stan's shoulder. "Calm down, calm down. Deep breaths, Stan." His friend attempted to calm himself, but his face still contorted in pain. Kyle pried Stan's hands away from his head and held them down. "Squeezing your head will make it worse." Stan sucked his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.
That familiar sound of knuckles popping out of place and bones quickly developing new tissue and growing rapidly went through Stan's head. Kyle didn't take his arm off Stan's shoulder. Despite him not going through the transformation or having lycanthropy himself, he was more used to and desensitized to the sounds. Stan pulled off his socks quickly in preparation for what was to come. He put his arms around Kyle as his legs began to reshape themselves and slowly sprout black and gray fur. Kyle didn't speak as Stan whimpered in pain. "Fuck... fuck..."
When Stan had his first transformation back in college, Kyle had no idea what he was supposed to do. Up until that point, he always saw werewolves as myth or some weird porn book genre for people who had the untouched urge to commit bestiality. But sitting there on the floor, across the room, wide-eyed, shaking as he watched Stan turned into something of 1980s horror.
But that was the norm for him now. If it was a proper job handle, he'd be able to become a werewolf handler. For three nights in a row, every month, he relived that moment in the college dorm room at 8:04 PM. The only difference was that he was older - and so was Stan - and he didn't have that impending doom looming over him. Although, he was very close to death in that dorm room as the Stan-wolf was very, very, claustrophobic.
Stan was just about finished with the transformation as he was hunched over on the bed, some snarls escaping his throat. He was finished transforming finally, his wet black nose twitching as he lifted his head. Gray and white trickled around his black fur. He licked his paw hands that had white claws and black pads on his fingertips and palms. Then he began to twist his head around to the red shirt that packed his fur. "Here, let me help you, buddy," Kyle said softly as he placed himself in front of Stan and reached his arms around to the bottom of Stan's shirt. He pulled it up over his head and yanked it off his arms. He threw the shirt onto the floor and stroked Stan's head which still had the little black scruff on top of it. Stan shook his body, causing little hairs to fly across the room. "Jesus, Stan!" Kyle exclaimed as he shielded his face. Stan only huffed and licked the fur on his forearm.
"Mean bastard." Kyle joked. Stan stopped licking his forearm and grumbled at the comment. "I'm kidding," Kyle said, scratching the back of Stan's head. Stan growled and turned his back to Kyle. Kyle pouted his lip and laid behind Stan, pressing his body into his fur. Stan licked his nose and closed his eyes. Kyle ran his hand along Stan's ribcage which was visible under his skin. Stan had very short, gray, peach fuzz fur on his front and face. He curled up more, leaving his tail to hang off the edge of the bed.
"Is there anything you want to do, Stan?" He asked. Stan's eyes shifted to look at Kyle.
"No idea, huh?" Stan sucked in a large breath of air and sighed, relaxing his eyes again. He lifted his back leg to his head and itched behind his ear a few times. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes again. Kyle put his hand on the pudgy stomach and laid his head on the furry chest. Stan's heartbeat was slow and calm, comforting. Kyle closed his eyes as well and let himself get more comfortable as he lay against his friend.