Of course, our love is forbidden… but whose is not? From the moment I first caught her scent in that crowded bar, I knew I had to have her. Her pheromones flirted in my nose, and my adrenal system pulsed into alertness. My lips curled back, my nostrils flared, and my hands tensed into claws.

The hunt was on.

I inhaled deeply, raising my head above the throng, and mentally catalogued and filed away each of the aromas present: tobacco smoke (Marlborough, More and Rothmans), alcohol, malt, various fruits (citrus mainly), human sweat and the heavy artificial scents of aftershave and deodorant. There were many threads of aroma to pull on, to fray from the weave.

Once I had identified each I could ignore it, and so, finally, I concentrated on the one that really mattered -- hers.

I knew she was kin; her sweat was musky with lupine undertones, and so I knew full well she was forbidden fruit. Nonetheless, I intended to pluck this particular apple from the branch. After all, this life is no Eden. Take pleasure where you find it.

I followed the trail through the huddled bodies as they drank and yelled and stank, until I found her. She was sitting by a window, nursing a wilting cocktail and being bored by some lout in the other seat. He was droning on about some career conquest. I can still visualise perfectly what happened next...

She turns as I approach.

"Hi!" Her smile is so warm that having it turned upon me feels like opening the door to a furnace. "I felt your approach," she adds, and then frowns, as if confused by her own words.

"Need rescuing?" I quip, and all the while, I'm examining her with eyes and nose. She's younger than I am. She looks too young for the pick-up bar we're in, but her world-weary expression probably helped her get through the bouncers.

She wears a cotton dress of light green with little shoulder straps. It falls over her rounded figure loosely, draping but not clinging. Her long, pale legs are bare except for white canvas sandals. She wears a single leather band around one wrist, and her hair, her glorious hair, is rich chestnut red, long and so sleek; it falls like a living cloak around her shoulders as she moves.

I look at her human would-be partner and growl, "Fuck off."

He's already affronted at the way I've been looking at his claim, and now he slams back his chair, spoiling for a fight. I look him in the eye and do the 'thing'. You know, the thing we do that freaks out humans so. Just for an instant, he sees the beast inside, and so, pale and shaking, he stumbles away. I sit in his chair and sip his drink.

She seems neither surprised nor upset at her partner's departure, but instead looks at me with her hooded green eyes and says, in a lazy drawl, "Now why did you go and do that? That one had money to burn..."

"And you're on fire!" I laugh; God knows why. She laughs too, and her hair ripples like otter fur. Her scent is rich, and I can't breathe in enough of it. Musk, spice and a certain sweetness; it just screams to senses, hardening my cock, prickling my hair follicles.

"So do you intend to pay his fare?" she asks, and I realise she's whoring in this bar. How unnecessary.

"Hey, beautiful. You don't need to do that no more; kin take care of kin."

"Kin?" she questions. Could she really not know?

"Kin." I gesture with my hands. "Me, you: kin."

"We're related?" She seems confused.

"Oh sister, how can you not know?" More of an exclamation than a question. Surely the change must have come upon her by now?

"It's true," she says cautiously, "that as you approached I felt I knew you... but I don't recall from where." She starts to bite her nails as she speaks, and I notice they're already well bitten. Her green eyes look nervous.

"How old are you?" I ask.

"21" I know she's lying; her whole body tells me she is. Maybe she's younger than I thought, or maybe the first change is late coming, but she's one of us, and she doesn't know it.

"Tell me," I say, surprised at having to play 'older brother' to her, "do you have tempers, sudden rages you can't control? Do you have nightmares full of blood and torment... and sex? Does the sight of the full moon make your skin crawl? Can you smell what I ate for breakfast fifteen hours ago? Does the touch of silver burn your skin? Does it, beautiful?"

She pushes away from the table, her face aghast with a look of 'how could he possibly know?', and she runs from me, her green dress flapping around her thighs. Using the speed and grace of our kind, I catch her by the wrist before she reaches the door, but then I guide her outside into the gentle night. She's crying, and I allow her to sob onto my chest as we walk slowly down the street.

"It's all right, beautiful. It really is all right now." I wonder when she'll tell me her name.

The feel of her so close does powerful things to me. I feel elated and strong, and oh so very masculine. Her female scent is a drug in my nostrils, and I'm confident she's reacting in turn to my pungent maleness. I decide we'll take a walk in the park.

"How... how did you know those things?" she asks tremulously as we enter the park gates.

"Because we're kin; I told you. We've all felt those things. We're wolves in human clothing, my beautiful." I throw back my head and howl into the night. A nearby couple look at me as if I'm a dangerous madman, and they're not wrong, not really. As a lunatic, it feels good to sing to the nearly full moon.

My new beloved flinched as my howl started, but as I fall quiet and look back down at her, I see she's now aflame with the excitement of the darkness. Her eyes glow, and she wears a fierce smile.

"Let me. Let me do that too," she says, and I grin -- all teeth of course, predator that I am.

"Just look at la luna and praise her good" I say, and my beautiful virgin does just that. Her head tips back, her mouth opens wide, and a scream of rage and joy fills the darkness. It is glorious. She is glorious.

Impulsively, I hug her to me. "You're incredible. I love you!"

She laughs. "You don't even know my name. I don't know yours either." She touches my face with one hot little hand, an expression of wonder upon her.

I breathe her in and say in a low voice, "We don't need names." We're just horny dog and bitch in heat, lone male and solitary female, pack leader and den mother. We're every mating pair that ever was, ever will be.

My excitement is growing as hers does. I know that I'm becoming bigger as my clothes, bought deliberately too loose, are tight around my muscles now. I have to keep myself in check; I must not change yet or it will frighten her. To distract us both, I gather her in my arms and kiss her. Her mouth tastes sweet, and I hunger for it. The kiss is not gentle.

Finally, she pulls away. "I... I don't do that... kissing... I don't kiss normally," she says, breathless. Her breasts rise and fall beneath her cotton dress, and I want to rip it from her.

"But I am different from your normal men, aren't I?"

She looks at me and nods, "Yeah. Yeah you are. What's happening?"

"To you? To us? To the night?" I question, although the answer to each is one and the same.

"To me, I guess, but it doesn't matter. Just kiss me again." She throws her arms around my neck and draws my head down. I howl hungrily inside as I bend to consume her lips.

By the time this kiss finishes I know I am changing, and there's little I can do to stop it. I can feel the fur growing and thickening in each of my pores. I can feel my jaw lengthen and my teeth sharpen. Most of all, I feel the animal in me rise, savage and unrelentingly demanding.

I lead my prize quickly to a secluded spot within some trees and turn her to look at the moon. "See her shine on us?" I say, and then, "Do you trust me, beautiful? Do you trust me?"

"I barely know you." she stammers, but she presses herself back into my arms and nuzzles her fleshy behind into my groin. I moan softly.

"You've got to trust me, my love. You have to know I won't hurt you." As I speak, I move my hands, now half paws, over her breasts and squeeze. My breath must be loud in her ears as I lick and nip at her neck. She leans further back upon me until I'm almost supporting her weight.

"I trust you," she whispers. That's all I need to hear. I grasp at the neckline of her dress with both paw-hands and, with one movement, rip it from her. She gasps. She wears nothing now but a pair of small white panties and her sandals.

She has the most beautiful back I've ever seen. Long and lithe, it glows almost silver in the moonlight. She tries to turn to face me, but I won't let her; I know I'm now more wolf than man.

"Keep looking at the moon," I growl with a throat that will soon no longer be able to form human speech. I struggle out of my trousers and throw them aside.

Running my claws through her hair, I lift hanks of it towards my muzzle. The scent is one of heaven; this is how wolf angels must smell. Whining a little, I begin to lick her back starting at the nape of her neck. My tongue is long now and rough, and she twitches at every touch.

I'm loosing the ability to stand upright, and I lean upon her. She falls onto all fours, her head still lifted to la luna. I fall upon her; my arms are now forelegs and covered in rich fur.

My tongue traces all the way down her spine, slobbering over every vertebra, until I reach the flesh of her delightful buttocks. I cannot resist a playful nip through the cotton, but then I'm overwhelmed by the musk of her sex, emanating up to my nose, now incredibly sensitive. I growl and grab her panties between my fangs, worrying at them for a few moments, dragging her hips backwards and forwards, and then the cloth is in shreds and falls from her.

The animal in me does not understand the value of taking things slowly, and I immediately thrust my head and muzzle into the space between her legs. She's wet and highly aroused. I push and roll my face into her, coating my fur with her moistness, bathing in her scent, marking myself as hers.

She whimpers like a dog and moves her hips around. I begin to lick.

With wet, rough, slurping licks, I wash her cunt again and again with my tongue, drinking her nectar; I'm ravenous for it. She moans and cries softly, opening her legs further apart. I oblige by hardening my tongue's muscle, poking it repeatedly within her until she shudders violently. I concentrate on her clit then, bathing it with hot undulating wolf tongue.

Now I begin to be aware of a change in her. Her skin is taking on a golden hue, and I realise a light coating of reddish fur is beginning to sprout upon her back. Still she stares fixedly up at the moon, but she pants rapidly, and I notice her hands tensing into clawed paws. The shape of her cunt is changing too.

I can't resist her any longer; I must experience her now. Moving into position behind my beautiful innocent, I mount her, curling my forelegs around her chest to crush her breasts. I move my cock until it twitches at the gates of her fleshy heaven, and with one sharp thrust, I enter her.

She cries out, and her cry is more animal than human. She is covered in rich red fur now, and pointed ears twitch upon her head, but she still has her hair, her glorious hair, falling like a mane beneath my muzzle.

She is hot and liquid. I move within her like lava. My tongue hangs from my muzzle as I pant loudly. I feel the knot growing larger at the base of my cock, and I know we are truly joined. Her haunches shudder and twitch.

Above us, la luna shines down upon the glade like a beneficent goddess. I raise my head and howl a song of gratitude to her, and my voice is joined by that of my divine bitch. Together we chorus our peon as we come and come, joined, inseparable, two wolves in harmony.

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