The Beast Within

"Everything always looks simpler in the movies." This single thought ran through Larry's head as he studied the calendar, counting off the days until the next full moon.

He hadn't wanted to live life as a werewolf, but apparently fate had other plans for him. He didn't know why he had been stricken with this terrible malady, or how. He only knew that when the moon rose full in the evening sky, he underwent a horrible transformation. He spent these nights prowling the county side, satiating his thirst for blood by feasting on anyone who was foolish enough to stroll through the woods unescorted at night.

Roaming through the forest was fine while he was in lupine form. However, it played hell on his human shell. Every morning he examined his flesh carefully, searching for any ticks that may have attached themselves the night before. It was bad enough to be a werewolf; he didn't want a case of Lyme disease to boot.

The grooming ritual came next. He combed his pubic hair for burrs and other objects that may have become tangled in his bush. Removing them was a painful ordeal, but it was paradise compared to the constant barrage of flea dips he was forced to administer to himself. He developed an intense dislike to showering, choosing instead to clean himself with his tongue. He even took yoga classes so that he would be able to reach the more difficult areas.

All things considered, Larry thought that he had adapted remarkably well to the situation. The changes that his skeletal structure went through as he changed from human to wolf and back again left him in pain, and he worried about the damage being done to his bones. He worried that the constant stretching was having a detrimental effect on them, but once he began to take calcium supplements, his mind eased.

As the curse went on, his animal side exerted more and more dominance over his human nature. He began growling at the mailman, and on more than one occasion he found himself chasing trucks as they drove through his subdivision. His neighbors were understandably curious about this, but he simply told them he was taking up jogging in order to combat middle-age spread.

One evening as he enjoyed a Colombian Narino Supremo at his local Starbucks, he was struck by the sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He tried to put her out his mind. He had vowed not to become romantically involved once he had realized the nature of his curse, but he could not help thinking about being with this woman.

His thoughts were interrupted by the woman's voice. "Can I help you? she asked pleasantly. Larry realized with sudden horror that he had leaned over without thinking and had been enthusiastically been sniffing her rump. He pulled back in embarrassment, and stammered an apology.

To his surprise, the lady laughed pleasantly. "I must say you're direct," she chuckled. "I like a man who embraces his animal instincts." Larry couldn't help but laugh. The girl continued. "Most men just ask me my name when they want to meet me. It's Katrina, by the way." She took a seat beside Larry, and just like that, their relationship had begun.

He fell hard for Katrina, and she fell hard for him. He knew he was playing a very risky game, as legend dictated that lycanthropes were compelled to kill the ones they loved. But he was helpless to do anything but love her, and he made certain to take all the steps he could to protect her.

The couple always met in public, and he took care never to see her during the full moon. He explained away his absences by telling her that he had to travel regularly as a part of his business. He hated to lie to her, but what choice did he have? Better a small deceit than a gaping wound, he reasoned.

For her part, Katrina did not seem to mind the small restrictions he placed on their relationship. When she asked him about how each trip went, he mumbled a vague response about the difficulty of cultivating client relationships. Katrina obviously knew that he was hiding something, but she did not press the issue. Larry suspected that in her mind the tiny lies somehow gave the relationship an air of mystery and danger.

As their love for each other grew, Larry's mind was filled with more and more disturbing images. They haunted him with their savagery. He saw his lupine form hunched over Katrina's mutilated body, steam rising from her warm insides, his muzzle buried deep within the open cavity. He knew that time was running out, and he would be hunting her soon.

The next night, when the transformation began, he knew with despair that she would be his victim. He was glad that he had never allowed her to tell him where she lived. He prayed that this would make it more difficult to find her. But he had not counted on his heightened sense of smell. When he dashed off into the night air, his nostrils were filled with her scent, and he made a beeline for her home.

When he arrived, her found her sitting in her living room, a magazine spread out on her lap. The door to her patio was open, and he leapt into the room, his muzzle dripping with foam. She looked up and met his gaze as he slowly crossed the room towards her. "Hello, Larry," she said.

Larry did not pause for even an instant. He dug his hind legs into the thick carpet and prepared to spring for her throat. Calmly, she took the magazine, leaned forward, and hit him sharply on the snout. "Down!" she commanded, and the beast, stunned into submission, complied meekly. "Good boy," she said, and smiled warmly.

The evening proved extremely uneventful. Katrina trained the monster with a firm hand, and though he balked at first, as time went on he became more docile, finally curling up near her feet and panting happily as she scratched him behind the ears. When the sun came up and he resumed his human form, he looked up at her with wonder and amazement. "How did you know?" he asked.

"It wasn't hard," she said. "The newspapers have been filled with stories of a rampaging animal that's been terrorizing the city. All of the attacks occurred while you were "out of town". And I happen to have a healthy dose of Romanian blood in my veins, so it wasn't a big leap for me to accept the notion of a werewolf."

Larry stared in amazement at the ease with which she accepted the situation. "Weren't you scared?" he asked. "I mean, if you knew I was a werewolf, you knew I'd come for you. Why did you leave the door open? Why weren't you afraid of what I would do to you?"

Katrina laughed. "You know, Larry, you never once asked me what I did for a living." She handed him a business card. Larry studied it and immediately began to giggle uncontrollably. Printed in a delicate font was the simple legend: "Katrina Tartovski - Dog Trainer."

"I figure a werewolf is just a big dog," she said softly, running her hands through his hair. "So I trained you. And now we can be together, can't we?"

"Yes," said Larry, and he took her in his arms and kissed her. After a moment she broke the kiss and looked deep into his eyes.

"By the way," she said, her voice low and husky. "You can still be an animal in the bedroom. But no biting, okay?"

Larry grinned broadly and kissed her again. "It's a deal," he said.