Tommy woke up in a moonbeam.
This, of course, being the most common way to turn into a wolfman.
As he prowled the streets at night, looking for soft pink monkeyflesh on which to feast, he paused because he smelled something more alluring, more enticing, than even the recent visitor to a buffet that he'd been following. Which was an enticing smell indeed, because his previous prey had spilled so much sauce down his front as to marinate himself.
Tommy, in other words, smelled a wolfwoman. As he spied her, snuffling through a pile of fast food wrappers, he saw her beautiful silver hair shining in the moonlight. She obviously wasn't a wolfwoman - she was a wolfLADY.
With a light step, Tommy approached her until he was very close, then made what he hoped was an alluring whine.
She started, turned, and tore out his throat with her powerful, crushing jaws, then went back to snuffling through the fast food containers, cursing the overwhelming scent of Tommy's blood that blocked out everything but the odor of the mustard and pickles.
The Moral: always order a hot dog with everything and leave it next to a dumpster during a full moon.