The doctor did manage to find a brochure of some variety, but it mostly just confused him. There wasn't any kind of guide about how to go about life, it was mostly just medical diagrams of the changes that were possible. More useless still, there wasn't any mention of the sex change he had undergone. The most he'd ever known about such a thing was hearing some story about a GI becoming a gorgeous blonde in the papers, to which his father had remarked "now how 'bout that" and nothing more.
His mind led him to the library next as he started up his car's engine. He wasn't a regular patron, and if he did go there, it was mostly for the books about car repair. Nevertheless, he did somewhat enjoy the smell; old glue had something earthy to it that he could stand to indulge in for a while. He was browsing for some time before a mousy old lady with cat eye glasses walked up next to him.
"Young fella, can I help you with anything?" she asked.
"I'm uh, researchin', lycanthro-somethin-or-other," he murmured.
"What was that?" she asked.
Slightly louder, he replied, "lycanthro…something. Don't know the exact name."
"Ah right, them wolf people," she replied, "Not meanin' to sound ignorant of course, if you're becoming one. Happened to my niece and she's a mighty nice girl."
"No, just curious, I suppose," he found himself lying. "Where might that section be at?"
She ushered him to a few rows down, where at last he found some books with titles that were long enough that he figured it was probably what he was looking for, more or less. Some read like medical books, there were a few of what seemed to be histories. Eventually, he stumbled upon a small orange book with the title Werewolves and What They're Like. That seemed like as good a primer as any.
He thanked the woman and checked the book out. He figured he could always come back for the other copies later. On the drive home, he decided the radio would do him no good. He didn't want to think much about trivialities or the big picture stuff. As long as his number didn't come up in the draft he figured all would be well at least for the moment. The doctor had said on account of him turning just for the full moon night, he wouldn't be changing until the next month again, in all likelihood.
The whole circumstance was enough to give him a headache. He pulled into a local barbecue place and had himself some pork, which was enough to get his mind off it for a moment. That was, until he saw in the corner what looked like a married couple of wolves sharing a happy moment. It was touching to him and all, but as he averted his gaze, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of longing.
It wouldn't be him, he realized, who was holding his wife close and keeping her safe. He'd be the one being…kept safe? What was it that women did? He hadn't got a good reference point, that was for sure. Up in the country, people did what they pleased mostly, but women were known best for their caretaking of the house. That was exceptin' for people like Mother Jones, but she was a mean old thing.
Down here, women seemed to mostly lead quiet existences, content to be seen only in the background. It was then that he pondered he really didn't have any friends who were women. Not that he had anything against it, but he was suddenly very aware of that discrepancy between himself and the people around him. There were also so many conventions he knew they had to be aware of. He had a number of sisters and cousins and though he didn't want to admit it, he knew deep down the way their mothers scolded and treated them was far stricter than he'd ever have to concern himself with. Well, had ever had to concern himself with.
He sighed as he realized he probably should've picked up something on etiquette at the library as well. Being an animal didn't mean he had to act like an animal, far as he was concerned. As his food finally arrived, he thanked the waitress kindly. He noticed her dress, and as she walked away frowned about how impractical it must be. This kind of food wasn't cleanly, and what should happen if she were to spill or eat it herself? It simply didn't connect for him as he began to dig into the ribs he had ordered.
He paid his bill with a fiver and told the waitress to keep the change, which he saw her eagerly counting out at the register. It was good money for a tip, but he could hardly imagine himself getting excited to take home two quarters and a few pennies. It was then that it occurred to him, he'd seen people of all colors as waitresses, but he'd never seen a wolf as a waitress. So that returned him to the question he'd had the previous night, what would he do for a job if the doctor were right about this disease coming in stages?
He first brushed it off. It was always possible that the doctor was wrong. After all, Dave was the first time he'd talked to a wolf beyond a simple greeting probably ever. That did leave him in a dilemma, given that Dave was the only person he knew who could probably answer some further questions about what would happen to him. Was it even safe to share that he was changing with Dave? What if Dave judged him as unmanly for his wolf form, or worse, joined in the jeering bystanders from the last night?
He decided it was time to take a stroll. Perhaps clearing his head in the crisp mountain air would get his mind off of things. Walking around Missionary Ridge was always a way to clear his mind when he needed it. He considered buying a pack of smokes, but figured with the Surgeon General advising him against it, it'd be a poor idea. So instead, he simply sauntered around town until he came back to his car.
Getting in the car, and noticing that it was barely half past noon, he figured he might as well go home and do some of the reading. He rode home through the sparsely populated streets and made it back to his apartment. He put his new boots on the floor, stuffed his doctor's note in his overall pockets for when he went to work the next day, and sat down on the couch, opening the blinds slightly to let a little natural light in to read well by.
The introduction made it clear that this was a guide written by a 'lycanthrope' (a word which he resolved to commit particularly to memory given the incident at the library) for humans, but also for people like him. As he repeated the pronunciation of ly-can-thrope a few times and read through the rest of the introduction, he found himself relieved that few mental changes attended the transformation. He also learned that it wasn't contagious, sometimes people would become wolves with no wolves in sight around them for miles.
He did read about instincts growing stronger around the transformation, which explained his hankering for something meaty this morning at lunch. He glanced at the table of contents, which contained titles such as 'lycan history', 'what to do if you find yourself becoming a lycan', and 'ladies' guide to the lycanthropic palate and cooking'. It seemed a firmly grounded enough text and had none of that useless junk the brochure had.
He decided to skip ahead a little to the 'what to do' chapter. It explained a great deal about the changes he'd be undergoing, and most importantly to him, the timeline. They offered some advice for the apprehensive or those who'd be endangered financially by their condition, which consisted of, 'do not engage with the wolf-self, it is possible to mitigate your condition to one to three nights for several months, or even years'.
He wasn't quite sure what 'do not engage with the wolf-self' meant. Did that mean he'd just have to resign himself to going to sleep a little early those nights? Seemed easy enough if that was all it were. However, out of curiosity, he read about what would happen if he didn't commit to that strict line. The answer came as follows:
Your wolf-self and human-self will merge slowly but surely. The first month, it is almost always the case that lycanthropism lasts for one night, the night nearest the full moon, or in some cases where the moon hits at noontime, two nights bookending. The next month, you can expect it to last a few more days, and so on, with the fourth month usually bringing you a full week of changes, including during a full day around the full moon. By that time, you can expect to have some lycan characteristics, with the most common being a tail, increased height, canine ears, and sharper teeth. Within a year, you can expect to be mostly or fully lycanthropic all month.
He slumped back in his chair. Math was never his strong suit, but he knew the math on that meant that if he couldn't somehow figure out to 'not engage' with the wolf-self, he'd be out of a job in fourth months or less. He scratched his chin absentmindedly. It had still said nothing about sex changes. He flipped through the book to find a short section acknowledging that sometimes it did happen, but not giving much more advice.
Well, this simply would not do. He tried to page through the other chapters, but as panic welled up in his stomach, he felt more and more disinterested. He couldn't be alone, that much he was certain about given that the book had mentioned it, but it seemed either rare or taboo enough that no one cared to speak about it all that much. He thought back to his experience the previous night, would that be his new experience walking around town every night?
Thankfully, the book had provided a table of full moon dates and times up until the year 2000, and he noticed that given the moon had been full around six this morning, there wasn't much chance he'd be turning tonight. That meant, at least, he was safe for this month, but the fourth of the next month would bring similar trouble, or perhaps even the third if the timeline was to be believed. He grimaced as he clamped the book shut and decided to take a nap until the bars were open. He had to talk to Dave, but for now his mind was mired merely in the thoughts of what a pitiable and unknowable fate awaited him.
He awoke about an hour later, right about the time he figured he should start getting ready to head out. He combed down his hair, residual gel from his forgetting to shower the previous night having been enough to bring it back into a composed look. He stretched his back, which he noticed was no longer aching for the first time in months, and made his way out to his car. Whatever happened tonight, he was definitely not going to get nearly as drunk as he had last night.
As he made it to the bar, he looked nervously around, and disappointingly he didn't find Dave among the patrons. He decided it would be good enough to get a little whiskey in him before he headed home, and ordered one from the bartender. Soon enough, however, the burly wolf did show up. He tried to calm his anticipation, hoping that Dave would at least sit down near him. To his relief, Dave sat down next to him and was feeling particularly conversational.
"Hey bud, good to see ya," Dave said as he gave him a slap on the back. "Last night not enough for ya?"
"It was a little much for a weeknight," Jack admitted to a laugh from his drinking buddy.
"For a lightweight like you, maybe so," Dave teased as he ordered a shot himself. "Work alright today?"
"Decided to skip, actually," Jack replied. Now was as good a time as any to bring it up, he supposed. "Funny enough, I uh, and this is kind of strange."
"No, no, I get it," Dave replied, "the older you get the worse the hangovers are."
"Naw, actually," Jack said in something of a quieter tone, making sure the bartender wasn't in hearing range, "I actually found myself transforming into a ly-can-thrope myself last night."
Dave laughed, "that's a good one Jack."
"I'm entirely serious!" Jack responded with fervor, "lost my boots and all walkin home on account of my feet shrinkin' into paws."
"Well ain't that something," Dave replied as he eyed him somewhat more suspiciously, "you sure didn't get it from me if that's what you're askin'."
"No, uh, actually," Jack muttered, "I was hopin' to ask you for some advice and all, it's rather new to me. Been readin' up at the library about it but they don't got everything I need to know."
Dave's expression changed to a warm grin as he said, "Well sure, whatcha want to know in particular?"
"How long did it take you to change during the day? I mean, I read that on account of it being my first month, last night's the only night I'll change this month, but shoot, in a few months I'll be all furry during the day."
"That's true enough," Dave replied as he tapped the counter for the bartender to get him another shot, "was round about the fall that I changed first and I remember it was sometime about in spring that I was changed for a full day for the first time, 'course, I was changed in the morning before then, sometime just after Christmas I think."
"So I've got a few months to make some employment changes," Jack surmised.
Dave looked at him peculiarly and started to laugh. "Shoot, you think so? Your boss that big an asshole that he don't want extra muscle? I tell you what he'll be grateful for that when you're hauling some beef or cotton."
It was at this point that Jack realized that he was considering a point Dave wasn't even processing because of the particular realities of his situation. Still, he didn't really want to talk much about it. As a result, he decided to go for something more of a socially fit angle to inquire about what he needed to know about wolf women.
"Well that's fair enough," Jack said, "I'll have to keep that in mind when I talk to him next. But I've also been thinkin' about starting a family and I'm kind of curious what the ladies are like."
"Well, you can go for the human ladies if you so prefer still," Dave said, "but wolves tend to keep to ourselves in that court, easier 'n all with how people look at us different."
"How do they live, like, you know, in general?" Jack asked.
"Like any of the other ladies, just not in the corners you'd know I suppose," Dave replied as he scratched behind his ears. "They're not much interested in being belles if that's your type, they got muscle on them too an' all. Not to say you won't find a few, I know the daughters of the confederacy's got plenty of 'em hanging around."
Jack grimaced. He didn't have anything against the cause so to speak but they were awful political. Still, he kept it in his mind if he wanted to learn a few more graces from the finer ladies that he might consider reaching out. Still, he would need to support himself as an employed woman until…until what? He shoved that thought aside and continued questioning.
"So are any of 'em working, like, I mean, I don't see 'em around here much," he asked.
"Well, some businesses find them unsavory-looking, and so you won't find 'em in front-facing roles. Lot of the textile factories love their dexterity and speed, so to speak, so that's probably where they're all off at. Not that they couldn't be doing our line of work, just that it's unbecoming of a lady to do it.
Jack decided that was a good enough lead. It wasn't like he could work there until he had changed more often, of course, so he'd need to think hard about what to do in the intermediate time. Boy, that sounded awful rough. He just continued to drink with Dave until he'd decided he'd had enough, and got in his car to drive home. As he exited the bar's parking lot, he found his face was wet. As he raised his hand to his eye, he found that they were tears.
Why were there tears? He was a grown man, there wasn't any need to cry. Life was tough, but it was surely worth living. He said a little prayer to the almighty for help being strong like he knew he needed to be. Crying didn't solve any problems, it didn't change the future. That still didn't stop the tears from flowing, flowing harder than ever. He was glad no one in his complex's parking lot was around to see him when he got out of his car and ran into his apartment silently.