One Crew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

by

Rodford Edmiston

The small, Asian woman was provocatively dressed, in heels, a slinky, low-cut dress and a modest amount of both jewelry and makeup. She sat at the bar, sipping a Scotch and soda which was mostly Scotch. Waiting.

"Evenin', ma'am," said Oliver, as he walked into the Frique family den.

The werewolf stepped behind the antique oak bar and pulled a bottled beer out of the refrigerator. He turned to the bar and used the opener mounted on one of the supports, below the counter. Which left him almost face-to-face with Daryl.

"Oliver, how long have I been her?" asked Daryl, blurting it out. She giggled, obviously more than a little tipsy. "I mean, 'here'? Talk about your Freudian slips..."

Daryl took an unusually large swallow of her drink.

"A little over three months, ma'am," the werewolf told her, setting his bottle on the bar across from her.

"With the time before I found this place, that makes about four months," said Daryl, nodding, as she took another - less generous -sip. She stared into her drink for a moment. "Each time I take this form, I'm feeling a little more feminine."

"Ah suspect this is leadin' up to somethin'," said Oliver.

"It sure is." Daryl looked him in the eye. "Would have sex with me?"

"Ma'am, yo're drunk," said Oliver, gently.

"No shit!" said Daryl, with a drunken giggle. "You think I could say something like that when I was sober?!"

"Well, come back and ask agin' when you are sober," said Oliver, still gently, but quite firmly. "Ah won't have it said I took advantage of a lady while she was in her cups."

"Hey, I decided this while I was not only sober, but male!" said Daryl, just as firmly. "When I'm a guy you don't do anything for me... well, you scare me sometimes. Uh... Oh, yeah: but when I'm a girl..."

She stopped, foundering. Oliver chuckled.

"Must be that old animal magnetism," he offered.

"No, I'm serious," said Daryl. "That's why I dressed up. The other night I started thinking about you. In... the Biblical sense, if you get what I mean. I realized you turn me on. Uh, the girl me."

"Ah'm flattered," said Oliver, sincerely, "and Ah admit you look particularly attractive tonight. Ah still won't bed a woman who's too drunk to appreciate my skills."

"Ooh, modest, too," said Daryl, grinning.

"If'n you approach me agin, tomorrow night, sober, it's a definite possibility Ah'll accept yore offer," said Oliver. "Afore you do that there's some things you need to know."

"Let me guess: you do it doggy style." Daryl laughed so hard at her own joke she almost fell off the stool.

"Ah can, but that's not mah favorite position," said Oliver, dryly. "Ah prefer to see my partner's face."

"Oh, sorry," said Daryl, shaking her head. "I think I drank a little too much courage."

"Ah've gotten in the habit of usin' the bed just for sleepin'," said Oliver.

"Uh?" said Daryl, who was easily confused due to her pickled thought processes.

"Wolves don't mate where they sleep; that's a human perversion. So if you don't mind the rug in front of the fireplace..." Oliver was gently stroking her forearm with his fingertips, an activity Daryl found strangely distracting.

"Uh, no," she said straightening, and shaking her head again. "That's fine. If you want to do it. On a rug, I mean. Wow."

She laughed. Then looked him in the eye.

"The way you do that, I think you do. And now I really do."

"Ah'll let you know tomorrow evening," said Oliver. He smiled, took a long swig from his bottle, and walked out with it.

* * *

"I think I abused your hospitality, last night," said Daryl, embarrassed. "I started drinking some of your Scotch and had trouble stopping."

"That's not a problem," said Dr. Frique, distractedly waving the matter away as he worked at his lab bench. "We keep the good stuff locked away for special occasions."

"Okay, if that's not the good stuff I need to learn more about Scotch," said Daryl. "Anyway, I finished with the MG. Runs like a fine watch, now. Carburetor just needed some cleaning and lubricating."

"Fine! I'll take it for a test drive this afternoon."

"Anything else you want me to do?" asked Daryl. "That's the last car which needed work, for the time being."

"Uhm, no, I can't think of anything," said Dr. Frique, finally looking up at him. "You might ask Winnie if she knows of anything. Or even Quatrus."

"I'll do that," said Daryl, nodding.

* * *

"Oh, dear, yes," said Winnie. "The lawn tractor hasn't worked in simply ages. We have to hire someone to come in and cut the lawn, and it's so hard to get them back after one or two times."

Daryl could understand why, but refrained from saying so.

"I'll get right on it," he promised.

"Excellent! I just love to ride that little tractor around our lawn. Not only does it let me cut the grass, and have a good look around in comfort, but it's the only driving I get to do since I lost my license."

Daryl thought about asking how she lost her license, but decided that, knowing her, the answer probably involved destruction of considerable amounts of private and public property, aggravated by local prejudice against the Friques. Instead, he nodded, smiled and headed for the garage.

* * *

The combustion occurring in the fireplace added the only noticeable sounds, and those were limited to the gentle ruffling of the flames punctuated by an occasional soft pop.

"I have to admit," sighed Daryl, speaking in almost a whisper, "this is the most romantic lovemaking I've ever experienced."

She looked Oliver in the eye for a moment, then kissed him on the lips. She was thoughtfully silent for a while, gazing into his eyes, before speaking again.

"Aren't you going to ask me how it was?"

"Ah kin tell you enjoyed it," he replied, gravelly voice grating softly. "Even in human form, my senses are keener than a human's. Besides, even a human can tell the diff'rence between a scream of pain and a scream of pleasure."

"Don't tell me I'm a screamer," groaned Daryl.

The big man just chuckled.

"You didn't seem to have any pain, either. From what Ah heard..."

"The followup exam showed that my hymen is pretty dilated, already, so I barely felt anything from that," said Daryl. She gave a tired laugh. "Wow, I've learned to be pretty clinical about some pretty intimate biology since I started living here."

Daryl sighed, and started to unwrap herself from her lover's hairy arms.

"Where y'goin'?"

"Back to my room," said Daryl.

"Y'kin spend the night, if'n ya want," murmured Oliver, his accent thickening as he approached sleep.

"Not unless you want to wake up with a man in your bed in the morning," said Daryl, with a nervous laugh.

"Nothin' wrong with that," Oliver observed, sitting up, a bit more awake now. "Wolves sleep together for companionship and warmth. There were plenty of times when I huddled with other men during the War. Sometimes, it was the only way to survive the night."

"World War Two?" asked Daryl, curious.

"One," said Oliver, with a smug grin. "Oh, don't look so surprised. Shapeshifters tend to live longer than humans. All that changin' and the extra healin' we have, y'know."

"So you haven't been into Dr. Frique's longevity potion."

"Probably wouldn't work on me," said Oliver, giving her a careless shrug.

Daryl sat silently for a moment, then calmly hugged the werewolf and gave him a long, passionate kiss.

"Tonight was wonderful. Thank you. However, I do want to get back to my room. I have a feeling when I wake up male in the morning I'm gonna want to be alone for a while. Then, after that, I'll likely want to do stuff to reassert my masculinity. I can tell you, though, that I would really enjoy doing this again, another time."

"Well, sure," chuckled Oliver, "my pleasure. Literally. Next time, if'n yore feelin' particular adventurous, I'll change some."

"Uh..." said Daryl, finding the offer strangely tempting. "I'll have to think about that."

* * *

"How did it do?" asked Daryl, grinning, as Winnie returned from mowing the large lawn the next afternoon.

"Oh, that was wonderful!" she gushed. "However, now that I've seen some areas for the first time in months I realize that they need work. Could you take the truck into town and get some supplies for me?"

"No problem," said Daryl. "Just give me a list and some money to buy the stuff."

* * *

"'Sure, I'll do it,'" muttered Daryl, as he lugged his fifth bag of grass seed to the Frique's farm truck. "'Just give me a list.' A list two pages long!"

When he'd seen the list, and the wad of money which went with it, he'd been rather startled. Winnie told him she thought that would be enough, and if there was any left over to buy himself a treat. Daryl had been careful to lock most of the cash in the glove box, only pocketing two of the hundreds.

The local co-op had most of what Winnie wanted, and people who helped load what Daryl bought. The particular variety of grass requested, though, was out of stock there. So, after making sure everything already loaded was secured, Daryl drove to a local landscaping store. They had the grass, but nobody to help load.

Finally finished, Daryl leaned against the edge of the truck bed and wiped a dirty, sweaty arm across his equally dirty, sweaty brow. He made a mental note to buy a sweatband with the extra money. And, while he was at it, more jeans and t-shirts. The pair of the former he wore had come through with no major problems, but he'd stained the old undershirt Winnie had given him with something he didn't think would wash out.

"Sorry I couldn't help you," said the young woman who had sold him the bags of seed, speaking quietly. "The boss won't let me lift anything heavy. Last time I did, he threatened to fire me."

She smiled, and took a quick look around.

"I don't think he wants to admit I can lift more than him," she continued, more quietly.

Daryl didn't doubt she could. She was obviously fit; not heavily muscled but enough to show. Daryl felt a bit envious. No matter how hard he exercised, he'd never be better built than he was now. Every morning, he reset to the way he'd been when the curse was placed. He was just glad that - doing the work he did - he'd already been reasonably fit himself.

"That's okay," he told her. "There wasn't that much of it. Say, can I get you something? There's an ice cream shop just over there, and we could both use a break."

"Sure!" she replied, beaming in a way which made Daryl feel very manly, indeed. "I'll just tell my boss. I'm Dorothy, by the way. People call me Dot."

She had a root beer float. He had a vanilla milkshake. They talked, casually. Dot lived in town, and was trying to save enough to buy a car.

"Don't know how I'm gonna get home this afternoon," she sighed. "Walk, I guess. I need a job to get a car, but you can't get a good job without a car to take you to it."

"I still have some shopping to do," Daryl volunteered. "What time do you get off work?"

* * *

Her apartment wasn't all that far from the landscaping store, just a few block. The place was nice, if low-income.

"You can see walking it isn't a big problem," Dot explained, as she opened the door. "Wait here a moment; I've gotta make sure the cat's locked in the bedroom. She doesn't like strangers."

Daryl watched her rear admiringly as she entered, feeling that he just might get lucky this afternoon. Only that reminded him of something else. What time was it, anyway? He didn't have a watch on, and the clock in the truck was broken. Glancing around, he saw red sunset light reflected off a nearby building, and started at the realization that more time had passed than he thought. Too much time. Before he could do more than realize that, there came the slight dizziness and disorientation preceding one of the sundown or sunup changes. Daryl groaned in frustration as breasts and hips pushed out, waist narrowed, hair lengthened, and an overall shrinking took place.

Daryl stared down at her stained undershirt, actually pulling the neck out to stare at her breasts, as if to make sure they were really there. She groaned again, then heard a gasp. She looked up to see Dot standing in the doorway, eyes and mouth making a triangle of circles.

"Ah," said Daryl, desperately, "I suppose you want an explanation. As soon as I think of a good one I'll it tell you."

End Part 4