The smell of the bitch was too much for Jim.
"I can't go back" Jim said to Lycanthria, rather forlornly,
"You don't want to go back" she told him. "You belong to me. What a wolf you are! A man with your hair and muscle, shaving and wearing clothes. What a waste. You can be with me!"
With that, Lycanthria tore off Jim's torn flannel shirt, giving full relief to his new-grown fur and sinew.
With Jim's heart racing away looking at the naked Lycanthria, and with Jim briefly taking in his own inhuman appearance, Jim finally gave up for good. Nothing but some wavy hair atop his head and a pair of jeans suggested he was ever a man.
Jim nuzzled Lycanthria's neck.
"As a man, my name was Jim Terrie. Just call me Terrier" said Jim, that is to say, Terrier. "I always had a dog's last name, and now I'm as good a canine."
"A wolf, not a dog" said Lycanthria, licking Terrier on the neck, and giving him an electric thrill. "As masculine a wolf as I could ever find. By the way, Lycanthria's what I'm called."
Lycanthria gave a quick glance at Smokey. The meaning was obvious. Get lost!
"Lycanthria? As hot a bitch as I ever wanted" said Terrier, sporting his fangs in a smile at the double-meaning that was unkown to his mate.
Terrier bore down on his mate on the ground.
"Those jeans" said Lycanthria, "Get them off, I want us fur to fur complete."
Terrier obeyed, tossing his last token of human identity. Literally. They still held the money, keys, phone and I.D. of James (Jim) Terrier, age 20, black hair, blue eyes, college student, summertime lumberjack.
Terrier didn't give it a moments thought and went to work.