Wilford's Valentine Woes (Patreon)

This month, one of -the- furry icons of the 90's comes to the front with romantic issues of his own. Enjoy!

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Wilford Wolf and Minerva Mink were the definition of a power couple- at least, at night. Generally, Minverva could be found day or night, shopping, sunning herself by the pool, or socializing. Her studly werewolf boyfriend, however, was only ever seen with her at night. There were plenty of pictures and videos of them floating around online- she was a stunning beauty of a mink with long blonde hair, pure white fur, and a body of a supermodel. Her beau Wilford, however, was an absolute hunk of a werewolf- tall and athletic with an immaculate musculature and long, supernaturally white hair. The two of them turned heads wherever they went, but as time went on, both of them lost in each other's flawless looks, Wilford began to feel the first pangs of jealousy.

Minerva was always seen, day or night- Wilford was only ever seen at night, and there was a reason for that. Unlike other werewolves, Wilford loved changing; his were form was what people saw- tall, suave, buff, handsome- it was his daytime form, a short, nebbish, awkward nerd he wanted to hide away. However, it did mean that Wilford didn't get as much attention as Minverva; that part he didn't mind. He wasn't vain, or at least, didn't feel vain so long as Minerva loved him. Then, he found the Valentine card; a large, garish pink heart adorned with lace, and on the back, a short poem- "Roses are red, violets are divine- won't you leave that bushy-tailed Maybelline model and be mine?"

For the first time, the werewolf was seeing red. How dare someone send this to Minerva? He tore the valentine in half in frustration, after seeing it was anonymous. Part of him wanted to go after this secret admirer, and show him why he should be afraid of werewolves- but no, that wasn't right, and Minerva wouldn't like it. He was still a romantic, after all. He paced for a few moments, thinking to himself. What he needed was a preventative measure- something that made sure no one would go after Minerva, so long as they were dating. He couldn't tell Minerva to, what, stop going out, stop talking to friends? He may be a creature of the night, but he wasn't a monster- no, it had to be something on his end. He couldn't go threatening anyone that looked at Minerva, that was no good, either.

He snapped his fingers, a thought coming to him. "Speak softly, and carry a big stick…" The werewolf flexed his arm experimentally, his bicep tightening and filling out. It was impressive, sure, well-sculpted, but he had seen bigger. Maybe that was it, then. If he was bigger, and looked like he could crush anyone, Minerva's secret admirer would have to leave her alone- unless they were particularly stupid or creepy, in which case, Minerva would probably want Wilford to step in anyway. It was a bold plan, but Wilford was angry enough to give it a try.