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[b][u][center]Every Day’s a Tuesday

For Rayoelgatubelo

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

“And now, for your viewing delight, we have a special treat for you today. All the way from the heights of Manhattan, give it up for Bathory!”

It wasn’t her real name, but nobody used their real name on-stage. Not down here, at least, not when there was every reason to keep an alibi going. Even if you trusted everyone in the audience not to be a royal fuck-up - which she didn’t - it was better for weres to not have their faces attached to their real names, particularly pre-transformation. She knew how quickly that could go wrong.

She strutted out from behind the stage, grinning as she put her hands on her hips. She tossed her head back, dyed-black hair running down her back, a spiked dog-collar wrapped around her neck. Taking a moment to give the crowd of were-cats and werewolves and more a sneer, she pounded the catwalk, stepping forward, letting them all get a look at the short skirt that hid almost nothing, letting them stare up her legs, pale as the moon in the sky and deliberately so, just to get that much more exotic against some of the competition that’d come on stage later.

‘Bathory’ turned on the spot when she hit the end of the stage, her high-heeled boots clutching at her calves, her toes pointed as she spun in place. The thud of the music beat through her soles, rising out of the stage from the speakers on either side. She swayed her hips, arms over her head as the music got louder and louder, the obligatory saxophone mixing with electronica that buzzed and blared over everything around her. She tossed her head to it, hair going wild as the bars for her act started lowering from the ceiling. Not silver, but painted so, and that was enough.

As they clicked into place, she brought her hands down her sides, resting them just over her skirt as she looked out at the crowd. Most of them were grinning, knowing what came next. They were the old hands, the ones that had come to her first shows. The others were new, looking at her with curiosity and not a small amount of lust. The number of hands that were busy under the tables would have had her giggling if it wasn’t for the fact that she had to keep a serious face for the act.

She flicked a button at the side of her skirt, and the whole thing fell just as the bass did. The thump of the leather hitting the stage was enough to set the crowd to whooping again, and she turned slowly, rolling her hands up her sides again, catching the bottom of her shirt. It was so small that it was barely worth wearing, but that was what made it so fun to take off. The hint of white flesh that was barely hidden was somehow made that much more desirable for being so close to being exposed in the first place. Up, up, up it went, until her breasts fell out of her shirt and fell against her chest, a wet ‘smack’ from sweaty flesh on flesh riling up the crowd of monsters more.

“Yeah, that’s it, bitches…show me you love me,” she called out, and they cheered, some throwing cash on the stage for her.

‘Bathory’ chuckled, standing there in nothing more than panties and boots. She put her hands back on her hips, strutting right to the end of the stage this time, walking right up to one of the werewolves that stood there, waiting. He grinned as she pressed her boot to his face, pushing him back by the forehead, and rested her heel right on his muzzle. He groaned, huffing against it.

“Take it off, boy.”

He did what he was told, and happily. Clawed fingers pulled at her laces, and in seconds, the boot went flying. She wasn’t getting that back before the night was over, and she wouldn’t be surprised to find some pervert had jacked off in ‘em. It didn’t matter, really. It was part of the risks of the business. She’d get replacements out of it by the end of the night, considering how much people paid for this shit.

She turned, shoving him back with her bare foot, wiggling her toes to the crowd. The old hands knew what was coming, while the others were probably thinking she was some foot freak with the way that she was showing those off. Oh, if only they knew. If only they knew what kind of freak she really was. ‘Bathory’ licked her lips, pushing her other boot at a nearby jaguar, who did the same for it as the werewolf had done with the first boot.

Down to her panties, she leaped up, grabbing the bars overhead, swinging from them as she let everyone get a good look at her. Every eye, every gaze in the room was on her. Whether it was a cat, a dog, a reptilian shifter, or something else entirely, it didn’t matter. As long as they were looking at her, it made her feel amazing, and it went right down to her pussy, leaving her clenching, dripping between her legs. Her panties clung to her, and as she hung, she reached down with one hand and rubbed them that much closer, grinding the silk cloth right into her pussy.

“Yeah…you love it, bitches.”

They howled for her, and some of the more aggressive males tried to leap up. She laughed, swinging herself upward, kicking her feet up between the bars and hanging from her knees. The strain was nothing new, and she changed position for a slightly different effect, hanging from one leg and pulling her panties down the other.

That got everyone’s attention. Every were that was anywhere near her moved to lean under her, some of them sticking their tongues out as if to catch her juices as she hung above them. With a smirk that would have put old Bast in her place, ‘Bathory’ pulled her leg free, letting her panties hang from her other leg. Her pussy dripped, alright, and she reached up and slapped it, letting everyone see and hear how wet she was getting under their gaze.

If this was some wild place, they would have been on her. As it was, the bouncers were ready, waiting for anyone to cross the line. ‘Bathory’ knew that, and she didn’t care. Hell, if one of the audience did get through, the show would be that much hotter, but if they didn’t, then she’d just tease the living shit out of them until something happened. She laughed, running her fingers along the spiked collar around her neck, tossing her head back as she shifted position again. One leg hooked over the bars, the other pushing straight and running her toes along the sides of the metal tube.

“DO IT! DO IT!”

“CHANGE!”

“SHIFT!”

“DO IT, BATHORY!”

They were shouting for her, hungry for her, thirsty for her. How could she disappoint her fans?

The short answer was, she couldn’t. She grinned and let herself all but fall, her black hair almost tickling the noses of her audience as she began to change.

The black-brown fur started at her face, running over her cheeks and down along her jawline. The little crick-cracks of her bones shifting could be heard as the sound systems finally got turned down to let everyone get into it. As her nose flattened, as her mouth and nose pushed out into the start of a muzzle, she slowly opened her mouth and showed off the other changes: the fangs and the tongue.

“Oooooh yeah…”

“Bite me, girl, bite me!”

“Let’s put that mouth to use, what do you say?”

She barely bit off a laugh at the offer, helped by the fact that her tongue really was making it a bit hard to talk. It wasn’t so long as some of the other bat-weres, but it was long enough to spill from her mouth, falling out past her lips by a matter of more than eight inches. It was framed on either side by the growing fangs that were inherent to all vampire bats, and made all the more sensual for the fact that she was thrusting her tongue between them in imitation of what the males wanted to do with other parts of their anatomy. She let out a very real moan as the transformation continued, running up along the sides of her face to her ears and down her back and chest.

Her breasts had already been quite well-ogled, but as the fur cupped them, they flattened ever so slightly. Not from losing size, but from the extra support of all the muscle just under them. Her abs, toned but not particularly visible before, grew thicker and stronger, more obvious and more powerful. She smirked as some of the werewolves looked at her more nervously, deliberately flexing to tease them as she pulled an upside-down sit-up.

As she came back down, her ears rolled up the sides of her head, growing into curled points. The sounds of the room came to her in all their fury, ranging from the fap-fap going on just out of sight to the whispers of lust that some didn’t think she could hear, from the crackle-hiss-pop of cans opening at the bar to the teasing whispers that the old hands gave her from across the room. Bats heard everything, and she was no exception to the rule. Hell, she [i]made[/i] that rule.

The transformation continued down her arms and along her sides, a thin membrane starting at her armpits and slowly creeping out along her arms and sides. The further it went, the thinner and more ‘spooky’ it became, showing veins and more as it connected her arms and torso together. She flapped them as the membrane reached her wrists and her waist, and the puff of air shocked those that were standing too close, buffeting them away as she nearly ‘fell’ to the stage below.

Not quite. All part of the act, but it was part of the fun.

She dangled from one leg again, playing up how ‘helpless’ she was as a tiny little tail grew out just over her spine. It was little more than a triangular tuft of fur and muscle right over her ass, but it was still a tail, still sensitive. Some of the were-cats below leaped for her, and their slicing claws almost caught her ass. She laughed again, snapping at them with her fangs in return.

And as the fur crept down her legs, it did the thing that some of them were all waiting for. Not only did it make her legs stronger, thicker, but it reached her feet, turning them from pale white to something so dark a brown that it was almost black. Her toes lengthened, reaching out further than even a were-raccoon’s might have done, and curled with greater dexterity. ‘Bathory’ let herself ‘fall’ -

And then caught herself with her newly transformed foot, toes curling tightly around the metal bar, supporting her weight with nothing more than the digits themselves. The crowd cheered for her, some of them laughing, some of them groaning, and she could hear the splut-splut sounds of someone or other cumming in their pants.

‘Bathory’ laughed, hanging from one foot and flexing her other leg to bring the other transforming extremity almost into reach, dangling it down by her head. She flexed her elongating toes at them, winking.

“If you want another dance, guys, toss some money. I don’t do this shit for free.”

And so they did, dollars falling on the stage as she swung herself back up. God, she loved transformation days. Should have been a Tuesday, but when you were a were, every day was TF Tuesday.

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A young woman going by the pseudonym ‘Bathory’ puts on a transformative strip tease.

Tags: F/solo, M/solo, Human, Werewolf, Various Species, Bat, Were-Bat, Transformation, Foot Fetish, Dance, Strip, Exhibitionism, Showing off, Wet,