Yesterday, I wrote a short story called The Wolf’s Mate, a werewolf tale that’s actually a romance. Gwen is married to Larry and is pregnant. Larry is also a werewolf who even recognizes his “mate’s” scent while he is the wolf.

I started thinking of different ways to spin the story, and the night Gwen Talbot becomes pregnant sprang to life. I want to warn you right now this story contains some significantly “adult” content, so if you aren’t okay with that, stop reading now.

I’m also considering writing a story about their romance, how they met, fell in love, his proposal of marriage, and upon Gwen’s acceptance, Larry’s revealing his secret to her and how, amazingly, that resulted in them getting married, even in the face of the curse of the wolf.

I just wanted to let you know what you were in for.

I remember the night I became pregnant, both the ecstasy of it and the horror.

The story of my courtship with Larry, how deeply we fell in love with each other, his proposal and my joyous acceptance, and then the terror of the revelation of the wolf is for another time.

I did marry him, knowing exactly who he is, what he is, the curse he carries within him, and what it means for our children, especially any sons.

I gave up my apartment in Berkeley to move into his flat in the city when we married, not that I wasn’t spending most of my nights there anyway.

Were we ready to start a family after eight months of marriage? Were we being reckless and careless? I don’t doubt it. I was so tired of living under the shadow of the wolf, exhausted weighing each decision about our future based on those two or three nights per month when Larry would leave our home and the wolf would run free.

We’d both gotten home from work that evening. He wanted to try a new recipe for Schezwan chicken. We drank as much wine while cooking as over dinner. We collapsed on the sofa in giggling flirtation. Then we crossed the threshold into serious passion.

I was in our bed. He had gently disrobed me. Removing each piece of my clothing, my blouse, my skirt, my bra, my panties, was an act of seduction, even before he touched my flesh.

I was underneath him. I gasped as he entered me. I wrapped myself around him and surrendered to him as he surrendered to me.

I don’t know why it happened, why we lost track of time.

Was the first full moon this month tomorrow on the 13th or tonight, the 12th? We both must have thought the former, but of all people, why would Larry have forgotten?

I could feel him driving himself deeper inside of me. I knew he would finish soon. I was so very close to finishing, too. Just a little longer, darling. Just a few more seconds.

Then something happened. His voice was changing. Moans and grunts of passion became growls and snarls. It was as if he were growing again inside me. His penis viciously smashed against my cervix. His skin, its texture was becoming rough and coarse. No, not his skin…it was his fur.

“Oh my God, Larry! No!”

His face. His snout was beginning to gradually form. The metamorphosis was happening slower than the last time I saw it, but it was happening.

He didn’t stop! He took me, both the man and the beast, took me as his mate. My desire turned to revulsion and terror. When would it end? What would he do?

He cried out! His climax. I was terrified and astonished to find how aroused I was. It was the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had. I was sobbing and trembling as I pushed against his chest, trying to get him, this man, this creature I’d married, off of me and out of our bed.

There he was, standing before me, still mostly human. He had enough of a face left for me to see he was just as startled, just as horrified as I was.

He turned, and I heard him half run, half stumble down the stairs. Somehow, I managed the strength to get out of bed, grab a robe, and follow him.

I started for the back door, which I’d heard open and shut seconds ago, but then a commotion out front got my attention. Making sure my robe was closed, I pushed aside the curtains to the living room window facing 6th Avenue.

A car had screeched to a halt. There was a full-grown grey wolf transfixed in its headlights. People on the sidewalk were backing away from the creature, hoping it wouldn’t lunge at them. The wolf suddenly turned north and began running away at astonishing speed.

I fell into a cushioned chair and started crying. What had he done to me?

I felt horrified that I’d been violated by an animal when I was making love with my husband, but the animal did something to me. I didn’t want it to happen, but I was still passionately, uncontrollably aroused. I should have been disgusted, but I couldn’t keep my hands off of myself as I envisioned the man-wolf still inside me, still slaking an animal’s primal lust within my body.

I came three more times before I exhausted myself. What has become of me? What will he say to me when he returns home as a man tomorrow? What will I say to him? I’m no longer just Larry Talbot’s wife. Tonight, I became the werewolf’s mate.

One more comment. I read an article a few years back about how semen is supposed to be good at helping women fight depression. I don’t know how accurate that is, but I started to wonder what Larry’s semen would do to Gwen as he was undergoing the transformation. That may account for Gwen’s response after the wolf leaves their home.

Oh, I know that men write about women’s passion differently than women do, so hopefully, I haven’t completely messed up Gwen’s experiences.