Gluttony
A short werewolf transformation.
When a man can't control his gluttony, he loses himself to his inner beast: a werewolf.
Despite what you eat...
Despite how much you eat...
Despite controlling it with all your might...
You know the wolf buried inside you wants to get out.
You had a simple invitation with your friends at the new all-you-can-eat buffet. You tried to avoid these as much as you could due to your condition, but your friends pushed you over like they always do. You hadn't become chubby out of thin air after all: you had a bad habit of overeating... and getting carried away.
You decide to head on with them anyway. You meet them at the place down Main Street and the buffet owners assign you to one of those booths for four people. If it were not for hwo comfortable the seats were, you would have asked for another table since your round middle is almost poking against the table.
You get teased by your friends for being fat, but you tag along: there's nothing bad with being on the soft side. You love food and you love your body as it is... what you are fearing is what happens if you lose control. You practiced keeping it down for years now... perhaps there's nothing to be afraid of after all.
You and your friends go for a first round. You fill your plate with the good stuff: fries, onion rings, cheese bread, gravy, chicken wings... You pile it with enough food for the whole table before you head back to your seat. As expected, you are the last to come back. One of your friends make a joke about the place going bankrupt if you keep on and you threaten to eat him as a reply. How close would it be to the truth though...
After a good laugh, you start eating. The food tastes... pretty normal for a buffet, but you had no expectations anyway. You put food after food into your mouth. Chatting in the meantime with your friends about anything. One of them makes a joke about you having to hit the gym and you reply that you don't need abs to be strong as an ox: actually, you could lift your car with no problem.
One plate down the stomach and you are proud that you made it without making a scene. One of your friends is already satiated with his plate while the others consider going for another round. You go with them. Again, you take a plate and pile on the food: three types of pastas, more fries on the side and some gravy along to top it off.You thought it might not be that much of a good idea, but you couldn't help: you put some beef slices on your plate.
You head back with your friends, sitting next to that full friend of yours. You can feel the room filling in between your gut and the table, but you don't care: you're getting used to it anyway. One of your friends comment on your beard, only for you to stop eating mid-motion. You made sure to shave it that morning... so that meant...
You had to be careful. You thank him for the unexpected comment not to sound out of place. You proceed to eat with caution. You chop a piece of the beef and drown it in the gravy before pulling it to your mouth. Your eyes roll all the way back in ecstasy and you let out a small moan of bliss. The time comes to a freeze as the savours of the red meat tingles your senses. You feel a draft of air brushing up against the fuzz on your thick arms and you have to bite your tongue before this euphoria goes out of hand.
One of your friends shows concern toward you, but you play it cool. Perhaps eating beef was not such a good idea after all. You look down at it and judge it for making you almost lose it. You notice the hairs on your arms still stand, thrilled. They look a bit thicker and you lick your lips to taste what's left of the juicy meat.
You know you shouldn't, but you give in for a second bite anyway. Again, the heavenly tingle comes back full force and your hands clench tightly around the cutlery. You can feel them: your hands bulging and swelling. The size of your fists expands and you have to bite your tongue again to stop yourself... until a stinging sensation and the ferrous taste of blood invades your mouth. Already, your teeth were sharpening.
You try to stand, but you abruptly hit the table with your rotund sphere. Your friends are definitely concerned but you blurt out you're going to the bathroom. You discover it's a one-room bathroom, so you lock the door right as you enter. You glance at yourself in the mirror and gasp at the reflection.
A beard is an understatement now: you look like you have not shaved in a year! This cannot happen now! You look down at your hands, most likely mitten-sized right now. The hair density on your arms had increased to the point you look quite hirsute. Some chest hair is already peeking out from your shirt collar.
"C'mon... I'm hungry..." a sinister voice snickers from the back of your mind. You cannot let it win... Not right now... not in public... not in front of your friends... Yet the demanding growl of your stomach aches within you, almost dropping you to the floor in submission. Despite how much you ate already, you feel as ravenous as from the moment you entered the place.
You have to do something... you can't stay here... You hear someone knocking at the door, asking if it's still gonna take long. You flush the toilet for good sake and exit the room that you swear was growing smaller as you left it. You hurry back to the table to find your friends looking definitely concerned now. Your clothes look and feel tighter, that you can say... but it takes you a little while to notice is how high your view point looks from standing now.
You are about to blurt out that you are about to leave when one of your friends mentions he could not finish his plate and dropped off the rest of it in yours. You see more fries, pork chops and some more beef on top. Your forehead sweats. Your body trembles with forbidden desire. You can't give in... but if you keep away from the meat... probably you'll be good.
You sit down, finding it a bit harder than before to squeeze in the booth. You can tell your belly is firmer and rounder already. The slight itchiness you feel indicates that it's gotten hairier as well. You push aside the meat and prepare to eat the rest of the plate... but that nagging beast you try to bury in your mind keeps pushing and pushing... until you finally give in.
You take another bite of beef, then another. You go euphoric, not bothering to close your mouth when chewing anymore. Juices from the meat drips into your growing beard and your teeth sharpen more every time you chew and tear the meat tissues apart. Your friends look at you in fear as your swollen gut presses firmly against the creaking table, as your head inches taller, as you loom over the table and eat like an animal.
Cutlery is a thing of the past: you feed yourself with your hands (or rather paw-like-hands) now. Your nails grow dirty black and push into points. They change into powerful and dangerous claws, ready to tear the meat apart so you could eat. You can't really see it at first, but you feel your nose changing. It blackens, and starts pushing out, growing into a bestial muzzle.
Soon, your plate empties. You demand more meat. Your friends are frozen into place, scared for their lives. You threaten to eat them if they don't bring you more food. They activate to get you what you need. Except for the one stuck between you and the wall. You look down at him and lick your lips. Drool and meat juices drip from your dirty lips and fall on your worried friend's shirt. He begs you to spare him. You just want a taste though... You give his horrified face a long lick: tasty. Your humongous maw opens up and prepares to take a bite when your other friends come back with a plate full of meat like good servants.
You turn toward the plate on the table with a sinister grin. You shove piece after piece of meat into your eager maw, resuming the changes. Your knees hit the underside of the table and shake the contents on top of it. Even sitting, you are as tall as your friends standing next to the table. Your back flares in quick lurches. One side grow beyond the booth seat, the other is trapping your now much smaller friend against the wall.
Your clothes are history and so are your shoes. Mighty wolf paws burst out of the tattered footwear and press against the opposite booth. The booth is getting tight and small. You can hear the table bolts on the ground shaking, being forced out of the ground as your bottomless gut swells and pushes against the tabletop. You are awfully big yet that unending hunger of the wolf feels way under-satiated. Your plates are emptied yet again, but your friends are nowhere to be found, like they ditched you.
With a loud unretained belch, you try to move out of the booth and go for the buffets, but you realize that you are stuck. With your new strong bulk, you use both of your bear-paw-like-hands and pull the table off its hinges on the ground. Ceramics shatter and bolts fire in the air under your strength. As you stand up, way taller than you used to be, you make people from all over the place scream and run for their lives. So many preys out there...
The night is still young and you are so hungry. The beast has won once again. You turn around and notice your small friend crying for his sake. With your large threatening smile, you growl out to him: "Come to papa."