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transform anyway. Fur grew between the
corset laces. Charlotte clawed at it with a gasping cry.
     
    Bernard hooked his claws through her corset
and ripped downward, peeling it from her like the skin off a
banana. Charlotte fell to the floor as her body transformed, but
she drew great breaths and her ribcage heaved. Her fur was creamy
white.
     
    Bernard's pain increased and his vision
blurred. He tore at his restrictive clothing, desperate for air.
His shirt ripped and buttons pinged across the room. His trousers
came off anyhow.
     
    The pain drove him to the floor, a burning,
crushing pain in every bone and fiber. He groaned and it wasn't his
voice anymore--it was a bestial sound. His limbs spasmed and he
clutched his head. Anger and hunger rose up inside his mind and
clamored for rule. No! He'd taken the elixir! He'd keep his
humanity, no matter what happened to his body!
     
    The pain faded. Panting, Bernard lifted his
head. The room snapped into focus with amazing clarity. His nose
identified Charlotte nearby, heaving deep groaning breaths. At
least she was still alive. He rose to his feet and looked down at
himself.
     
    His fur was deep gray marked with brown, and
the transformation made him huge. He stood on two legs, and touched
the nine-foot ceiling with one paw. For the first time in his life,
he was tall. His tongue felt enormous and floppy, and his teeth
were a series of jagged spikes. Standing on two legs was tricky
because his legs bent backward. He switched between four legs and
two until he could walk a few paces without staggering.
     
    Charlotte huddled on the floor, ears
flattened, peering up at him. "Bernard," she whimpered. Her voice
had deepened and become harsh. "You're a monster."
     
    He dropped to all fours and bent over her,
and she cringed away. "Don't hurt me!"
     
    "Charlotte," he said softly, "it's all right.
Remember the elixir we drank? It let us retain our human
minds."
     
    And their ability to speak. The mages had
debated whether a werewolf could speak since the first wolf
appeared. The human larynx remained intact, but the wolves only
vocalized in barks and howls. There had been much debate about
whether this was the result of a physical change or a mental one.
Apparently the latter.
     
    Charlotte pushed herself up on all fours and
her ears sprang forward. "Will it let us regain our human bodies?"
She looked over her shoulder at her fur-covered shoulders, then
sank to her haunches and looked at her furry arms in dismay. "Oh!
I'm a monster now!"
     
    Guilt pained Bernard. He hadn't turned her
into a monster. But he'd let her retain her mind, and perhaps that
was worse--being aware of the condition and unable to alter it.
Apologetically he said, "I was trying to preserve the mind. The
body would have been the next stage had I ..." He looked down at
himself. "Had this not happened."
     
    He walked to his full length mirror and stood
in front of it, examining himself. Slabs of muscle, keen yellow
eyes. Thick fur that still smelled of cologne. There was no sign of
the bite wounds that had inflicted the curse. But his hands were
stiff, with none of the delicate motor skills of human fingers. He
could never brew more elixir in this state.
     
    After a moment, Charlotte rose and stood
beside him. Her body was slim-waisted and feminine, but her claws
and teeth were no less sharp. Her white fur was far more beautiful
than his own gray coat. "Oh," she whispered. "I'm horrible!"
     
    "You liked the way you looked." Bernard
examined his teeth in the mirror, and then flexed his muscles,
turning to look at his back. "I never did."
     
    Charlotte stepped away, glaring in scorn.
"You're such a boy, Bernard! Look at you, preening!" She turned her
back and sat down on her haunches. "You don't have to like it so
much."
     
    Remorse struck Bernard. She was right--they
were monsters now, even if his new body was more powerful than his
old one. He sat down beside his wife in silence.
     
    "What do we do now?"