"...Honey?... Honey, it's me... It's John..."

John's words were hardly more than whisper, shuddering as he stepped tentatively towards your heaving bulk. He reached out tenderly, holding desperately to the faintest hope that somewhere inside your beastial mind you could remember who he was, holding his hand dangerously close to your drooling maw that you might recognize his scent

"...It's... It's okay, Honey... It's okay... I'm sorry... It's all my fault... You're okay..." John spoke as softly as he could, his frail body quivering as he stood resolute to not flinch or draw back from every movement you made

Falling in love with a werewolf had been the worst, and best, mistake of his short life. What began as a casual night out had blossomed into a wonderfully romantic relationship over the course of a few blissful years, and John considered your condition a small price to pay for all that happiness. The chore of chaining you up every full moon had become almost mundane, the nights spent in absolute terror that you might escape an easily mitigated inconvenience...

He had told himself that the chains needn't be so tight that night, that you shouldn't have to suffer as badly as you insisted... And now here he was trembling, the scent of his fright tendered flesh tickling your taste buds as he tried to pet you like a common house pet.

"Easy, Honey... It's okay... I... I love you..."