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We sit on opposite sides of the table, both shovelling mounds of food into our mouths. Dad's slowly savouring his food, but I'm scoffing the lot, and the only sounds I make at Dad are the slurping and chomping noises as I quickly devour my meal. I've never felt so hungry in my life! Does it have something to do with-- "Slow down, Maccon. Jesus, I've never seen you eat so quickly." After swallowing the last forkful, I belch loudly, much to the disapproval of Dad. "...Excuse you," he sighs as he politely eats the last few bites of his dinner, but then an even louder burp leaves his mouth as he picks up his plate. "Um... excuse me." He says quietly, and I sneer at him as I make my way over to the sink to dump my plate.

"Maccon!" He says sternly, and I turn around annoyed. "Yes, Connor?" Dad makes his way angrily over to me. "Oi! How many times have I told you not to call me that?" I put my finger to my lips as if I'm genuinely thinking about it. "Um... ah, I'm not sure... Counting this instance, you mean?" I watch him tense his hands out of anger. "No-one likes a smart-arse, Maccon." He then points to the sink and I moan loudly, provoking a sigh from Dad. "Come on, you don't do much about the house anyways. All I'm asking is that you do the dishes." I slump over, letting out a low, drawn-out moan to show that I can't be bothered, and I hear another sigh.

"Do I have to?" I moan irritatingly, and Dad walks over to the sink, defeated. "...Never mind. I'll do it. Go do what you want." I had planned to rub my inevitable victory in his face, but instead, feeling sorry for him, I stand next to him and roll my sleeves up. "...I'll put the dishes away. It'll get done faster." Dad looks at me and smiles. "Thank you, Maccon." Although he and I aren't as close as we probably should be, I still feel really happy choosing to help him. I love spending time with Dad. 'That'll stop soon though, won't it?' As this horrible thought crosses my mind, I start putting the dishes away slower, and Dad turns to me and tells me to 'get a move on' jokingly.

I was bitten yesterday. I don't know what by, but as soon as I felt its sharp teeth sink into the flesh of my neck, I knew something would... happen to me. I thought I could stop it but... it's starting already. I know I don't have long. ...I'm going to talk to Dad. I was going to just leave quietly, save him any trouble. But I think it'd be better to just get everything out in the open before it happens. Tell him I'm sorry for always being so spoilt and acting like a kid even though I'm in my mid-20s. Tell him things about myself I should've done a long time ago. Tell him I love him... potentially for the last time. He's done everything for me... it's the least he deserves.

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I hear someone gently knock at my bedroom door. "Maccon? What is it?" My son slowly enters the room, his head bowed down. He seems really upset about something as I hear him sniffing loudly. I instinctively get up off of my bed and go to hug him. "Maccon? Why you crying? What's wrong?" He sniffs and whispers urgently: "Please... d-don't come any closer. I don't... I don't think I have a lot of time left." My jaw hangs open in confusion as tears begin to fill my eyes. "What d'you mean? Son, please, you're scaring me..." A faint smile grows on Maccon's face. He sniffs again. "I'm... I'm going to change. Tonight, I think, and... I just wanted to say... I love y-- AHH!" He groans loudly as he doubles over, clutching his stomach in pain.

"Maccon..!" I make an attempt to go over to help him, but then a deep, booming voice comes out of my son: "STAY AWAY!" It genuinely scared me; Maccon sounds like a monster. I can do nothing but watch as my son continue to groan and growl as he begins to grow taller just a few feet in front of me. His clothes eventually tear off of his ever-growing body, and I stare in horror as his bare chest. What was previously a slim, toned body was now beginning to ripple with patches of fat and the black hair of an animal, his stomach expanding outwards all the time as several hairs grow out of it right in front of my eyes. I can't look anymore. I turn away from my son, sobbing quietly with the knowledge that he is still changing behind my back.

As Maccon's growling begins to cease, I slowly turn back around, and as I catch sight of Maccon, I begin to physically shake in fear. A fat, towering... naked werewolf is kneeling on the floor with his eyes closed. Maccon's face is now a wolf's. His arms are a strange mixture of fat and muscle. His stomach is massive, hanging with fat. I glimpse down at his cock for a second, and it seems considerably bigger in all aspects (I'm assuming). I stare at him awhile shaking, unable to move, but then I suddenly rush towards him and throw my arms around his chubby neck. "Maccon? Are you okay? Please, say something!" I hear my son gently stir with a low growl, his head over my shoulder. I look behind me and watch as he shows himself his furry arms, followed by a high-pitched whine.

I speak softly in order to comfort him: "Shh... it's okay, it's alright, Maccon, you're okay. Try to calm down. Can you do that for me?" After a while, I feel his grizzly chin hit my shoulder as he nods. At least he understands me, I tell myself. I pull away from the hug in order to look at him, and he lowers his head so that his yellow eyes meet my gaze. I hear him snort in deep breaths, and I stroke his back. "Well done, son. Y-You're not hurting at all, are you?" As he shakes his head, I smile weakly at him. "Good... Listen, let's see if we can move you into the basement. You'll have more room." I grunt as I lift myself up, still shaking a bit. Maccon slowly does the same, and as I lift his muscular arm over my head in order to support him, he hits his head on the ceiling and yelps in pain.

We walk slowly out of the room and down the stairs. I occasionally say 'watch your step' and 'mind your head' as we make our way through the corridor to the basement. I feel Maccon sway groggily away from me as if he's going to fall over, and I grab at his arm that's around me with both of my hands, using all of my strength to keep him upright. I feel shocked as his chubby body hits me, bewildered by the fact that, despite his size, I kept him from falling. He whines again and, taking it like a 'sorry', I turn to him and smile again as I whisper: "Don't be sorry. ...We're almost there." As we make our way into the basement, I sit him down at the far end of the room, and find a spare blanket and place it on his lap to keep him warm (and partly to cover up his large member). "Right, try to get some sleep. You'll be back to normal again in the morning." As I make my way back up the stairs, I hear Maccon whine again.

I turn to him. "What is it?" He pats the space next to him with his large hand, and I smile. "You want me to sleep down here with you tonight?" I laugh slightly as he hastily nods. I find another blanket, walk back over to him and lay down next to him. After I get myself relatively comfortable, Maccon turns on his side and puts his head on my lap, his fat stomach pressing into my leg. I lay there in silence for a while, but after I think that Maccon has fallen asleep, I start talking softly to myself. "Why did this have to happen to you, son? You're only 25; you have your whole life ahead of you." I laugh sorrowfully as I rub down my son's back. "I won't be able to tell you to act your age again. I'll miss that." Tears form in my eyes again. "I'll look after you, Maccon. Even if you... turn... every night, I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you." I slowly stroke my son's head as I close my eyes and fall asleep.

I awake the next morning with a loud crash coming from upstairs, like metal smashing against the floor. "Maccon?!" I shout as I throw the blanket off of me and run up the stairs and into the kitchen (where I presume the noise came from). I peer around the corner of the doorway, praying that, not only that Maccon isn't hurt, but he's also back to normal. Only one of these are true. Well, at least Maccon doesn't seem to be hurt. I stare at my son, who is still in his beastly form (and, luckily, still with his blanket around his waist). Is this going to be... permanent? I look down at the floor at the mess that he made; he was trying to get the pans out of the top cupboard to cook himself breakfast. He looks at me and whimpers in apology, and I put on a brave face as I smile at him. "Sit on the couch in the other room. I'll make us both some breakfast."

He slowly does as he's told, but shortly after he leaves the room, he comes back and hugs me from the back, lifting me off of my feet with his powerful arms, and I practically sit on top of his fat belly. I press my head against his shoulder and he lays his head on top of mine, purring. "I love you too, Maccon." I say softly, and he gently puts me back down and leaves the room once more. He seems to be... coping, at least, I think to myself as I pick up some of the pans and place them on the hob. I cook us up a full English breakfast: eggs, bacon, beans; the lot. I carry our plates through to the living room and I hear Maccon sniff the air loudly. I barely place his meal on his lap before he tucks in, using his hands instead of his cutlery to messily lift the food up to his mouth.

He chomps away at his food while I just about get started eating mine, and within about a minute, his plate is bare, and I watch Maccon hastily lick his hands clean. As I start on the second half of my meal, I feel my son's tongue lick the side of my face in appreciation, and I chuckle a "You're welcome". After I finish my food, I get up and I go to grab Maccon's plate, but before I can do so, he takes my plate from me and walks into the kitchen. Pride builds within me as I follow him into the kitchen and see him trying to wash the dishes. I laugh again. "I-I better do that. I appreciate it though, son, thank you." As Maccon walks out of the room, I shout after him: "Oh, by the way, I'm gonna try and give you a bath with the hose outside after I'm done with the dishes."

Not too long after, he walks back into the room and snarls in protest, but I'm persistent: "No, don't give me that, you need to keep your... fur clean." In answer, Maccon holds his hand up and open and close it whilst sticking his tongue out as if to mock me, and I shake my head and turn away from him. "Oh, act your age, Maccon." A couple of seconds pass, and I realise what I just said. I turn to my son, a huge toothy grin now across his muzzle. He did it on purpose, I tell myself. He heard me last night, and he wound me up on purpose so I'd tell him-- I suddenly run at Maccon and hug him. He hugs back, once again lifting me off of my feet. "I am so proud of you, son. Thank you." He purrs an answer as I rub his back. Then, I feel something hard touch my ass. It's Maccon's cock. I lean back and look down at his erect length, which has caused the blanket to fall to the floor.

"...Maccon?" He lets out a low whine in embarrassment as he lifts me away from him and sets me down on the floor before turning away from me uneasily. As he tries to leave the room, I shout calmly after him: "Come back here." He steps slowly towards me, and I place a firm hand on his arm. "Follow me." I lead him back down into the basement, once again making him take a seat at the back of the room. I sit myself in front of him and take his length in my hand. "I'm gonna... take care of this, okay? Just this once though... for being so good." He slowly nods, and I look down at his large cock as I begin to stroke it. Maccon sticks his tongue out of his mouth and begins to pant in pleasure, and I watch his chubby stomach quickly move up and down. I hear his tail wag, it sweeping swiftly back and forth across the floor as I handle his dick faster.

Eventually, I toss his large dick off as fast as I can and several pants and low growls leave his muzzle. Without thinking, I start to take his large length in my mouth, bobbing my head on his thick 9" member. I take him deeper in until I feel it hit the back of my throat, and he lets out a loud howl as he suddenly cums, and I pull my head back and swallow his load. His seed tastes... odd. We both sit there staring at each other, both panting for breath. "I... I think... we'll both be... needing that hose..." I escort him to the back door and, after making sure that nobody was looking, drag Maccon outside and begin to give Maccon a thorough hose-down. I give myself a brief spray, then return to pointing the hose at my son's fat, furry body.

The next week or so passes by extremely quickly. Every day I feed Maccon three full meals a day, his plate (and his belly) getting slightly bigger every meal. Every other day, I give him a hose bath, much to his displeasure, but it has to be done, I tell him. Every day, we spend most of the day together, and I love every second of it, even if he doesn't talk back. And every time I see that Maccon has an erection, I give him a handjob or a blowjob in the basement to get rid of it. As the week goes on, though, I notice that my son's 'urges' lead to me tossing and sucking him off more times with each passing day. For some reason, however, I never find myself complaining or saying 'no'. I mean, it's not like Maccon can help it, after all. But one day, while I'm washing my son, I feel an immense pain in my head, and I manage to hear Maccon's worried whimper as I black out.

I wake up lying in the basement. The blanket is over me and I look up to see a relieved smile on Maccon's face. Then I hear what I've been wanting to hear for the last week: my son's voice. "Are you okay, Dad?" I slowly lean up towards him, my head still pounding. "Son? You're... you're talking! I can understand you!" Maccon's smile is now gone. "Uh... don't freak out, but... that's becau--" I throw my arms around him, my eyes closed due to my headache. "Why would I freak out?! You're talking to me! I--" As I open my eyes, I see a pair of fat, black-haired arms are around my son. I glance down at the rest of my beastly body and I begin to shake. "H-How..?" Tears form in his eyes as he hugs me tightly and whispers: "I-I'm so sorry, Dad... This is all my fault... I'll never forgive myself... Wh... what are you doing?"

For some reason, I'm licking the side of Maccon's face. After a bit though, snapping out of it, I pull my head back and say quietly: "S-Sorry, son, I... don't know what came over me." "Keep going." I pause for a second, shocked by my son's reply, but then my tongue meets his face again. I work my way around his body; his chubby neck, his fat stomach and, as my son turns around and presents them to me, his huge ass cheeks. I hear my son exhaling loudly in pleasure as I soon pry them apart and tease his opening with my tongue. His legs buckle sightly as I penetrate his ass whilst still rubbing his cheeks with my large hands. Suddenly, I let out a muffled moan as Maccon bends over and begins to suck my cock, his ass pressing harder against my muzzle.

Eventually, I give my son's ass a final lick, and then I grab him by the thighs and pull him towards me slightly, and I feel his cock hit my face. As I begin to take him in my mouth, he quickly deepthroats me, and I pull my head back and moan. "Heh... two can play at that game..." While Maccon holds his head in place, I place his cock in my mouth again and slowly move my head upwards, letting his length slide slowly in, until my nose touches his fat belly, and I make quick bobbing motions on the end of his dick. Maccon pulls his head back and lets out a loud roar. He handles my cock for a bit while I continue to deepthroat him, but then he whispers. "Dad, please fuck me." In answer, I roll over, lift him up with my chubby arms and set him down at the edge of the room, and Maccon instinctively bends over, resting his hands against the wall.

I grip the base of my dick and pull one of Maccon's cheeks to the side. As I slowly enter him, I watch as his fat legs wobble a bit, and I hear several grunts escape my son's muzzle. After my stomach hits his ass, I start slowly thrusting into him, and I watch as Maccon starts to masturbate his large dick. I continue to fuck him slowly, but it's not long before they become faster and more... animalistic. "You're doing great, son..." Maccon turns to me and smiles as he says between moans: "You're doing me great, Dad." I let out a short laugh, but then I grit my teeth and thrust into him hard and fast. I hear a loud howl come from Maccon, and I watch as he cums, his jizz falling to the floor. Not too long after, I thrust into my son as fast as I can and I grunt loudly as my seed shoots up into his chubby ass. I pull out, and Maccon turns around to meet my gaze. We stand there for a long time, but he soon breaks the silence. "Should I... get the hose?"

We decided to leave the house that night. We knew it wasn't safe to stay there now that we were both werewolves. So we wandered around, looking for somewhere to call our new home, letting our insticts guide us. And by God did we find the perfect place. Now we live in a den, along with a pack of several other werewolves who needed to get away. They allowed us in straight away, and now Maccon and I live our lives together as werewolves. Though it's a bit overwhelming, I don't regret this happening to us. Because now, I'm closer to Maccon than I ever was before. Whether we're scoffing a meal together, or just talking to each other, we spend all of our time together, and we love every second we spend in each others' company. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him.

Because I love my son.