Chapter 2

“So, for the record, you’re ... Adam ... Topper. A helluva name! I kinda like it! Francesca ... Topper! It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Well, Adam Topper, trust me when I tell you, and I haven’t lied to you yet, have I, but being my moon-mate was a VERY smart decision ... very wise! And if I dare to flatter myself, turning you was a very good choice on my part, wasn’t it?” Frankie licked her lips before kissing me hard on the mouth yet again.

“I’ll make damn sure that you think so ... forever,” I assured my new lover, “wow ... I’m really ... a werewolf ... Wow! Thank you for that! I won’t forget your gift to me. Ever.”

“Well, it’s not all moonlight and orgies, there are some ... growing pains and trade-offs, but on balance, yes, being a demon wolf, which is what we prefer to be called, it’s ... the best life of all. Talk about apex predators? That’s us, babe. It really is! We’re the top of the food chain. We are, not those full-blooded simians called humans.

“No more veggie life for anyone who’s turned, if they ever lived it. They’re descended, ultimately, from herbivorous apes. They had to work to become omnivores. We’re a lot more carnivorous by nature. It’s just ... who and what we are,” Frankie informed me as we stepped out of the shower and I began drying off her lovely skin.

“Oh, my ... my lusty young lover really is the attentive type! Or you just like excuses to touch me. No harm in that, if that’s how you feel. On the contrary, I rather enjoy that quality in a man ... or woman. Hey, whatcha got that’s good to eat?” Frankie asked me while she took her turn at drying me.

“Well, let’s see. I really should use up some of this stuff before I move in, right ... no sense wasting it. Though some of this will have to be tossed. It’s the food that time forgot, much of it Carlita’s that she was loathe to take back or home. She didn’t want her family knowing that she was so fond of Chinese takeout, greasy pizza, and In-and-Out Burger. Like they’d ever disown anyone as cute as a button ... though what’s particularly cute about a button, I have no clue.

“Anyway, it started to stink, so I dumped some of it the other day. That barely put a dent in my surplus. Yeah, we’ll have to dump a lot of it,” I warned Frankie, who threw back her head with laughter.

“Wow, she was halfway moved in, wasn’t she? Sneaky bitch! I like that, mostly because it meant that she felt safe around you ... safer than she did at home. Safer to be her true self, at least on one level. You were her escape, hon. Wow ... you weren’t kidding! She was very fond of Peking Duck! Sad that it’s gone rancid.

“Yeah, definitely toss that. I knew that there was a bad odor here, but I also knew that it wasn’t your fault and that you were just now realizing how much it stunk. Thanks to me biting you, dear, your sharpened sense of smell has allowed you to detect spoiled meat and other rotten food faster. See what I mean? The demon wolf has a lot of advantages over mere mortals.

“Here, let’s get this stuff all tossed, clean up the fridge a bit, and then eat, so we don’t lose our breakfast puking it up,” Frankie proposed now.

We got busy in a hurry, Frankie guiding me a bit due to her vast experience, including in all things culinary. A good eighty percent of the food ended up in the trash as useless, still leaving more than I could keep or eat, even with her help. I got an instant inspiration and quickly put on some clothes before leading Frankie to my neighbor’s door. I tapped three times on Mrs. Lindstorm’s door, to be exact.

“Who is this?” Frankie asked me, just being curious.

“Hannelore Lindstrom. Swedish lady. About sixty years of age. Widow for the past ten years or so. Lives on a fixed income, for the most part. She could definitely use a bit of food, I think,” I explained to Frankie, who smiled as Mrs. Lindstrom opened the door.

“Adam, what’s the matter? Who is this?” Mrs. Lindstrom echoed Frankie’s words about her.

“This is my fiancee, Francesca Van De Boer. Just call her ‘Frankie,’ though. That’s what she likes to be called,” I introduced them, “Frankie, dear, this is Mrs. Hannelore Lindstrom.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie. I’ve never heard of you before, but you seem nice ... for a nudist,” Mrs. Lindstrom pointed out that Frankie neglected to put on some clothes herself.

“Sorry, I left in a rush ... he and I were ... rather ... well, you know. We’re all adults here. Anyway, he decided to save some food that could be saved before he moves out, so here it is,” Frankie explained with a bit of red on her face as she blushed now.

“Yes, well, we are all adults here ... and you’re his intended, so it’s rather charming that you are that comfortable naked around him. You trust him, as you should. He’s a good man. Young, but good. I must say that I’m pleased that you’re not ... shaved down there. It’s seldom that you hear of a proper bush on a woman anymore. One would think that all women shaved it off. You can’t tell if the carpet matches the drapes as easily that way.

“He’s a horndog, this one, I see, judging from what I’ve seen of him, but the key to dealing with them is simple. Look the other way. And get some strange of your own. It’s how Gustaf and I made it work so many years, trust me. Of course, it was easier for us, because my tastes often ran to girls, though it was far from exclusive. But you never heard that from me. He’s still a good man. Plenty of pussy hounds are still good men,” Mrs. Lindstrom was a bit more candid than expected now.

“Thank you for that wise counsel, Mrs. Lindstrom. Duly noted. Anyway, here’s the food. Please enjoy,” Frankie smiled and winked at me as Mrs. Lindstrom hugged and even groped her a little.

“Bless you, my dears ... both of you. And if you should ever ... happen back in town ... Well, let’s just say that I am a very ... experienced lover, if you understand me. I wouldn’t mind two sweet pieces of ass like you!” Mrs. Lindstrom invited us, even as she opened her robe a bit and showed us some full frontal nudity.

It was all a blur, but the next thing that I knew, I was inside Mrs. Lindstrom from behind ... and Frankie bit her ... right on the derriere. She drew blood, just before licking up her own mess, and then winked at me. She mouthed, “rejuvenation.” I caught her drift. Mrs. Lindstrom was about to age in reverse until she reached some kind of equilibrium. In two weeks, she would be a woman easily in her prime again, of good, child-bearing years. Even on a bad day, she’d look forty at most.

She would also be a demon wolf, but at least she’d be able to take care of herself for good this time. Hannelore Lindstrom didn’t even pay attention. She just focused on taking me deep inside her ginger bush. She bucked her hips with enthusiasm and pushed back at me doggy-style, welcoming me far inside her dripping wet snatch. I slapped and even scratched her buttocks a little, not that she minded in the least.

I took that redheaded Swedish widow right there in her apartment, with the front door still open and the entire building able to hear her moans of pleasure. Her eyes glazed a bit as I rammed her harder, roughly slamming into her until she cussed loudly in Swedish and creamed herself on my cock. The fact that Frankie’s tongue kept gliding along her butt-crack didn’t hurt, either.

“Do it ... do it now, please ... cum inside her!” Frankie stopped rimming Mrs. Lindstrom long enough to whisper in my ear, “just do it, please!”

I erupted inside Mrs. Hannelore Lindstrom, originally of Uppsala, Sweden, unaware that I had just triggered a second change within her body. Between the reversal of menopause and the transfiguration of her spirit into that of a werewolf, the widow of an infertile man who wished that she had been a mother would get her heart’s desire at last. She was about to conceive my firstborn child ... my first ever wolf cub.