Jon's Inner Animal- Part 2 (Patreon)

Jon discovers his true self, and his true self is SWOLE. Thanks again everyone for your support on our first multi-parter stories! Read up on the first half of the story here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/jons-inner-part-40859831

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Jon was on the hunt, prowling the dark underbelly of London to find his quarry. He remembered the scent of the weedy merchant that had tricked him; he had been wearing an offensively large amount of sweet-smelling perfume that was popular amongst fae and other like-minded spirits and darkstalkers. It practically painted a path right to the conman for him, and the hulking werewolf was looking to collect that swindling merchant for a hunting trophy.

The moonstone belt girded to his waist was stubborn, fastened like a giant manacle. It had been influencing him, making him stronger and bigger, more beastly, but it had not robbed him of his senses- not yet, anyways.

“No!” Jon snarled, slamming his fist against a brick wall, leaving a crater. “I won’t let my dark half take control, it’s not going to happen! Simple as.”

The night was still young, and he knew how to navigate London unseen, even at this size. It took him through the Underground and the worst parts of the city, but the scent was still strong and his path was still clear. He was about to leap to another rooftop when he spotted something. Two people in ski masks and armed with guns were trying to force the door open of a corner store, one he knew. It was owned by a sweet old lady that had been in the city for ages. 

Jon bit his lip. He could keep going… he wasn’t a bobby, after all. This was Scotland Yard’s job, and they weren’t ever friends of his. But the shopkeeper wouldn’t know what hit her.

Growling softly, he threw up his hands. “Damn it all!” he snarled, before leaping from his perch. He hit the ground hard, cracking the stone pavement beneath his feet. “Evenin’, gents!” he shouted to the two would-be burglars. “How’s about you step away from the locked door, and I don’t tear out your gizzards?” The werewolf cracked his knuckles meaningfully, tensing his thickly roped arms as he did.

The two burglars gasped, pulling a gun and shooting at Jon, but the werewolf’s hard training had made him frighteningly fast and dextrous, even at his augmented size. The bullet missed, and he charged forward, sending one of the burglars flying with one well-aimed punch. With a single burst of exertion, the moonstone on his belt shimmered, and his arms tensed, his heavily roped muscles bulging. Jon felt lightheaded; dispatching the second burglar would have been troublesome if he weren’t already fleeing the scene of the crime from the growing, hulking werewolf. When the moonstone stopped shimmering, Jon’s senses returned. He rubbed his forehead until the feeling passed, and grunted as he looked over his swollen form. There was a rush of adrenaline as he climbed back to the rooftops, able to hoist himself up with ease. The feeling of power that pulsed in his veins and rippling limbs was close to intoxicating. It was tempting- but Jon had trained himself hard for years to avoid giving in. Right now, he had to stay focused. Smelling the air, his pointed ears twitching, he picked up the trail again to hunt the merchant down. 

He realized, by picking up the scent of other animals and catching the notes of bird songs, this merchant was leading him into Hyde Park. 

“Interesting venue… is he hoping I’d get distracted by other quarry?” he muttered, but before Jon could leap in after the fae merchant, he sensed something far darker. Glancing just to his left, he spotted a shadowy creature creeping its way onto the balcony of a townhouse facing the park. Jon’s nose wrinkled at the stench of corruption and decay coming off of the creature; it was a vampire.

“Bollocks!” the werewolf growled. “What the hell is with tonight?” he cursed under his breath, reaching the vampire in two powerful strides of his thickly coiled legs. Upon seeing the werewolf, the vampire’s withered face contorted in rage, pale skin shifting like parchment paper in the pale evening light. Its fangs flashed as it lunged for Jon, nails that looked more like a raptor’s talons raking at the wolfman.

The blow would have caught most off guard, as the undead’s supernatural speed made it all but a blur. But Jon’s heightened senses aided him well; with a snarl the werewolf managed to slam one ham-sized forearm against the vampire, knocking it from the air and onto the ground. There wasn’t a moment to spare as the parasitic fiend was back on its feet and rushing forward again.

“You interrupt my meal, you mangy cur! I’ll spill your blood as well,” the voice coming from the vampire was a raspy whisper, almost like a breeze rustling autumn leaves, just tainted by sheer malice. It swept its claws over and over at Jon, trying to slice through his flesh, but rebuffed by his leathery hide, and the rock hard muscles underneath.

Jon was managing to keep pace, if only due to his own unnatural capabilities. The moonstone belt continued to glow as he brushed off attack after attack, his biceps beginning to brush against his chest each time his arms moved. Each heavy breath caused his pecs to rise and heave, pushing against his muzzle as he growled deeply. He snatched for the vampire, his hand enveloping the vampire’s arm and squeezing. The bloodsucking creature let out a shriek of agony that was joined by the sound of crunching bone.

“You stupid mutt, release me! I’ll leave your corpse shrive-”, the tirade was cut out as Jon’s free arm slammed into the vampire with force relative to an oncoming train. The vampire went flying, one arm still in Jon’s grip as it slammed into a brick wall. It was dazed, pain wracking its body, even dulled by undeath it was still excruciating to have an arm torn off by sheer force of impact. Blurred vision cleared as Jon stomped closer.

The glow of the moonstone belt only helped accentuate the deep cut of the wolfman’s Adonis belt, lines framing his lowest abs. Each step was punctuated by the ripping of fabric, those enormous thighs rolling around each other while his pants quickly lost the fight against them. His rippling quadriceps forced their way into the night air while Jon stalked closer to the vampire. One arm lifted up, a bicep the size of a carriage wheel mashing against his deltoid and forearm before he slammed his fist into the brickwork right above the vampire’s head, leaving a hole the size of a melon, making the vampire tremble.
“Listen, leech! I ever see you in my town again, I’ll beat ya with yer own severed arm, ye get me?” Jon snarled. “Now get out of my sight before I stop feelin’ so bleedin’ charitable!”

The vampire squeaked, turning into a bat to escape the hulking wolf. Leaping from the window, the wraith forgot it was short one wing, and plummeted to the ground, hitting the pavement below with a soft plop.

The werewolf leaned over, shaking his head. “Damn blood-sucking fools…” he muttered. His sharp nose sniffed the air, and he found his scent again. No more distractions- he was going to end this, now. 

He bounded through Hyde Park, earthshaking legs tearing up the ground beneath him, swiping away trees like they were troublesome gnats, uprooting them with a swing of his massive arms. He followed the trail to its end, the merchant’s perfume so powerful a scent it made his eyes water. Beating his canyon of a chest once, Jon snarled, looking all around.
“Come out, you blighter! I know you tricked me!” Jon snarled. 

“Ah, but, why do you assume it is a trick, sir?” the merchant’s voice asked, a hint of desperation in his voice as he stepped out from the cover of a tree- the thin, fae like trader had managed to hide behind a trunk, and was now utterly dwarfed by the furious, mammoth werewolf towering above him.

“Look at me!” the werewolf demanded, gesturing to his massive frame. “I’m as big as a bleedin’ bus thanks to you!”

“Ah! That. You’re welcome,” the merchant said with some relief, bowing his head.

“What do you mean ‘you’re welcome,’ you little smart ass?” Jon demanded. He pulled the merchant up with one arm, leaving him dangling by the lapels of his shirt. “You’ve driven me to the point of madness! How long before the inner beast gets a hold of me, eh?”

“What- inner beast?” the merchant sputtered. “No, no! Mr. Talbain, I- I brought out your inner self! Your heroic nature!”
Jon, staring blankly, lowered him, if only slightly. “What.”

“Your true self is that of a hero- a very large, sometimes brutal hero, but a hero nonetheless! You’re one of the most noble of the Darkstalkers, and this massive mountain of muscle is a testament to that. Tell me- have you felt at all tempted to, I don’t know, eat any of your victims, or lash out at whoever is nearby?”

Jon narrowed his eyes, scratching his chin before it collided with his pecs. “I suppose not… but why the deception, then?”

“What deception? The belt brought out your true self! You’re a heroic werewolf. And think about all the good you can do now, with all this strength!”

Finally, the merchant was let go as Jon looked over his impressive form, leaning forward so he could even see the belt beyond his looming pecs. “...Fine. Fair enough.” He flexed one arm, grinning toothily as he watched that muscle swell up without fear of being driven to his inner beast. “But I’m bleedin’ watching you.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation,” the merchant cleared his throat, eyeing that bulging mountain of muscle as the werewolf flexed. “I’ll be watching you, too.”