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In the weeks since her release from the hospital after the encounter with a wolf infected by the lycanthropy virus, Sherri had lived a self-selected life of seclusion. While the doctors who had treated her had not barred her from going out, she just felt no desire to do so. When invited out by concerned friends, she insisted the issue was fearing for their safety--or hers. Though she had been assured her treatment would keep her disease in check, she had always struggled with anxiety and her developing lupine instincts to expend no more effort than absolutely necessary only encouraged her self-imposed exile.
She was on two sets of pills, one each in the morning and at night. One was supposedly to keep the werewolf disease from advancing and the other was to treat the swelling she was still experiencing in her abdomen and between her legs. Sheeri could not be entirely sure, but it certainly seemed like one one them had an aphrodisiac side effect that had only gotten stronger after her first full moon which had not turned her, but had seemingly lit a fire within her. She was constantly aroused now and her fingers were hardly ever far from her pale skin. At this point, wearing clothes only flooded her mind with pleasure so she was pretty much always naked in her apartment.
On top of that, her wolf-infused metabolism had kicked into high gear after that night and even low-impact workouts had started to have near-immediate effects on her once-mousey frame. She looked like an olympic-level volleyball player now and it had only taken a couple weeks to get there--even with her competing with how her body shed mass like it was water running over her. Somehow also taller, she easily hovered around one-eighty-five because of how she put on weight like crazy with each massive meal, filling out her silhouette with considerable additional curve.
So long as she ate regularly, everything was great. However, if she skipped a meal or two those curves melted like butter, quickly leaving her looking like a competition bodybuilder instead. She had struck a delicate balance which she fostered by having food delivered to her door on a regular basis. Between Amazon and Grub Hub she was a mostly satisfied, buxom apex predator that wanted to fuck like crazy.
Her sex drive was so intense now, that aside from working out and eating, her days were spent on the couch or in bed otherwise occupied as she toyed with herself. With her fingers buried in her snatch, she tore through her backlog of novels and ordered more. Through orgasm after clit swelling orgasm, she caught up on all the TV she had missed out on due to being out in the sticks for months at a time. Once all of that distraction was exhausted, she turned to masturbating on camera while wearing a lupine masquerade mask. It paid the bills when her disability ran out, then it paid more than she ever made a ranger.
(To be concluded!)