He glanced up, seeing where Isaac’s eyes were, and he could /feel/ the bloodflow, could /feel/ himself hardening again. He bit his lip. “God, you weren’t kidding,” he said. After a moment of curiosity, he jerked his mind away from that thought and struggled to remember. “I wished I was a guy,” he said slowly, “and now I am.” After another moment in silent contemplation of that sentence, he sat up properly, and tried to cup his hands over his groin.
As a method of modesty, it was a complete failure. The flesh was /so/ sensitive, any little brush made it twitch in interest. “How do you even deal with this?”
“This must be what I look like to you…” he murmured thoughtfully, always wondering what she saw when she looked at him with wonder in their more intimate moments, and he found himself becoming even more aroused at the sight, his breath hitching. “Wait…” He stilled then, repeating Summer’s words in his head, before scrunching up his nose, “You wished you were a guy and you turned into one, just like that? That’s not even possible…is it?” he mused to himself, then a smirk tugged at his features. “Welcome to my world — it’s a nightmare, isn’t it?”
“It was like the world held its breath after I said it,” he said, then glared at Isaac. “It’s not funny! I can — I’m still an empath, you know, I can feel you being turned on.” Giving up on modesty, he pushed himself to his feet, rumpling his short hair. He couldn’t decide which was stranger — having a penis, an /aroused/ penis; or not having all her — his — hair.
“Uh. I guess — can I borrow some clothes?” He came over to Isaac, to lean his head against the werewolf’s shoulder, and jerked back up, startled again. “I’m /taller/!” They still weren’t the same height, but it was clear that a good six inches had been added to Summer’s height.