Cake Under the Mistletoe

hat funny fifteen years ago. But, on the internet, nobody knows y

s born on that day, and the relative scarcity of lycanthropes in the population. But at the stroke of midnight between C

her mother's eggnog turned out to be labor. I understand she spent much of it cursing my fathe

voice. The next, a full-fledged loup-garou in the dining room. Thoroughly modern suburbanites do not take well to a werewolf in the family. My fath

n repeat a time or two, nobody noticed. Dad called it my hebephrenia and consulted experts about

e, and a place off-campus with a sturdy basement. College expanded my mind, enhanced my self-perception and

o have a healthy fear of changing in mid-sex, and waking up to newspape

all the next day either. It was so nice to

into domesticity. My lycanthropy left me with a keen interest in folklore and the occ

e personae. If I didn't post during the full moon, well, it was taken as a quirk akin to VanHel's referring to stake sharpening or

I'd reinforced the door and added several locks. I had a big

ifth anniversary. As listdad, I offered to host the party at my place. It

evening. It was still early, so I got my shoes on to go out for dinner at the local al

list. He wanted to come for the party but needed a

He was younger than I was, very smart and funny, and a complete sweetheart on-line. One of the list members had tried to bait him int

other message from Furball informing me of his arrival time and asking for a chat ses

hen to drink water and go back to sleep. At sunrise, I climbed the stairs, grabbed a bagel on the way to the shower

A smaller male wolf hunted with me. I wrote it to wishful thinking and checked my e-mail. Then I puttered. I chatt

e point, I closed my jaws on the smaller wolf's ruff. He rolled over and showed me belly. When he rolled back over, I mounted him to show domin

with Furball, more weekend puttering,