Once In a Blue Moon (Patreon)

This month, Aftertouch has brought us Wilford experiencing a hell of a lunar glow up- enjoy, and thank you for your support!
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Wilford B. Wolf fidgeted, adjusting his bowtie and large, binocular-like glasses before glancing down at the bouquet of roses he had for his date. With gangly limbs and an anemic, pear-shaped body, the wolf was the last person anyone would expect to see landing a prize girlfriend like Minerva Mink. To be clear, the sight of them together; a short, awkward nerd on the arm of a tall, vivacious mink; was not the only peculiar part of their relationship. Most of their dates were very late at night, and only once or twice a month, at most.

Some suspected Minerva was secretly embarrassed by her paramour, but, over time, when they were seen together during the day, Minerva doted on Wilford. Some assumed that she was attracted to his intellect, as Wilford was a very accomplished scholar, but when they were seen in public, she didn’t speak much about his mind, just calling him “my big bad wolf,” or “one fine hunk of a man.” At that point, many people assumed she was either insane or had gone irreparably blind. Others merely shrugged, assumed Minerva just had a kink for the Steve Urkel look, and wished the couple the best. Hardly anyone suspected the real reason the relationship had blossomed, or Wilford’s well-guarded secret.

Wilford spotted Minerva at one of their usual haunts; a quaint, white-washed bridge arching over a tranquil pond, reflecting the night sky. A heavy collection of clouds were stubbornly covering the moon, but the stars were out, at least. Minerva was wearing a red dress with a plunging neckline, hugging her well-formed figure and full chest. Her stark-white fur made a delightful contrast, a thick, fluffy tail swishing over shapely hips. She tossed her blonde hair back, looking over at Wilford and crooking her finger.

“Oh, g-golly, Minerva, you sure do look beautiful tonight,” Wilford said, handing her the bouquet of roses.

The mink paused to smell them. “Mm, thank you, Wilford…” she trailed off for a moment, glancing up at the sky and then the gangly wolf, looking expectantly. “It’s, ah, a cloudy night… I hope we don’t miss the moon, tonight’s supposed to be special.”

Wilford cocked his head to the side, but before he could question anything, a bright, single moonbeam poured down on him like a stagelight. The clouds still obscured most of the moon, but tonight, that single bit of lunar light was enough. Wilford inhaled sharply, fumbling with his glasses as he tried to quickly stow them away safely, checking his baggy pants- yes, size large, thirty four inch waist, thirty eight length. He was practically tripping over them, but he was about to really grow into them.

Minerva bit her lower lip softly as she backed away, giddy with anticipation; this part of the date was always like getting a present that unwrapped itself. Wilford arched his back, letting out a proper, lupine howl that carried across the pond. He curled his fingers, gripping the railing of the bridge, claws puncturing and splintering the wood. The wolf grit his teeth, and Minerva backed away to give him some space- and to get a better view. Wilford’s body was rapidly expanding, each wave rippling through him like storm-tossed waves. His shoulders broadened, his back flared out, and his arms surged with thick muscle. His mop-top of blue-grey hair turned into a rich mane, and his face shifted, jaw strengthening and his muzzle becoming more chiselled. His legs, now coiled with tensed, burgeoning quads and sculpted calves, lengthened, and he now loomed over the mink as he stood to his full height. Wilford was now easily twice the man he used to be; a handsome, chiselled face framed by flowing locks, and a body that looked like it was chiselled from marble.

Taking Minverva in his strong arms, Wilford dipped her back and kissed her, like the end of a fairy tale. “Minerva… have I ever told you how beautiful you look in the moonlight?” His voice had changed as well, now smooth as silk and rich as dark chocolate.

The mink batted her eyes coquettishly, a shiver running down her spine as he looked up at the werewolf, a tensed bicep big as a football pressed against the small of her back. “You have, but good for you, I never get tired of hearing it,” she purred, tapping a finger against his nose. “You know, it’s a special night…”

“Mhm,” Wilford rumbled, holding her close to his beefy chest as he straightened the mink. “I wouldn’t forget- it’s our anniversary, and I have something special for you later.”

Minerva sighed dreamily, leaning against him. “Oh, this night is going to be perfect… and to happen on a blue moon, too!”

Wilford’s eyes widened as he stood ramrod stiff, clenching Minerva tighter out of shock. “Wait- did you say a blue moon?”

“Oh- Wilford, you’re squeezing me- well, yes, of course- didn’t you know?” Minerva asked. “What’s the matter?”

“I- I don’t really know!” Wilford ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never changed under a blue moon before, and given their rareness and intensity, there’s a chance that if I’m under full exposure from it…” he trailed off as more and more moonlight fell on them, bathing the pond in pale luminescence.

“Wilford…? You’re shaking,” Minerva said softly, resting her hand on his tensed arm.

“M-minerva…” Wilford gulped, looking up as the clouds parted, revealing the most magnificent full moon either of them had seen in years. “You might want to back up!” he growled.

The mink retreated from the bridge, never taking her eyes off the wolf except to glance up at the moon, now fully free of the cloud cover. The way Wilford was hunched over, every muscle tightened, teeth clenched, and bathed in the most radiant moonlight, Minerva came to a shocking conclusion: he was going through a second transformation.

Minerva watched, thunderstruck and unable to move or take her eyes off of her boyfriend. The muscles under Wilford’s fur bulged and rippled; his arms swelled again, biceps inflating into globes laced with veins like rivers on a map. His triceps billowed out to meet them, making his arms thicker than Minerva’s waist, biceps alone bigger than her head. His chest filled out, a vast canyon the size of a car bumper, beefy pecs jutting past his muzzle. Every part of him was getting bigger- his face, once a chiselled vision, grew more brutish, the jaw thicker, broader, and tusk-like fangs poking out of his mouth.

The behemoth of a wolf had practically tripled in size, and his back alone was now wider than the foot bridge. His thickly roped arms hung over the sides, and then he looked to Minerva, his brutish jaw set as he growled softly. “Minerv-” the werewolf began, before the took one, lumbering step, and his tremendous weight could no longer be supported. The wood creaked and splintered, and Wilford fell into the water with a loud splash.

“Wilford!” the mink rushed to the water’s edge, straining her eyes as she tried to look into the inky water for any sign of the wolf. She didn’t have long to search before a thick, clawed hand clamped down on the ground, and Minerva fell over herself backing away as Wilford hoisted himself out of the water, casting her in his massive shadow. She couldn’t see much of his face past his chest, as rivulets of water dripped over the crest of his pecs and down the contours of his swollen, brick-sized abs. His legs were thick as tree trunks, inflated quads tearing his pants to shreds.

Minerva shivered as she looked up at her massive, bestial boyfriend. “Wilford…?”

There was a low growl, rumbling deep within the wolf’s chest. He crouched low, his massive legs coiled, biceps pressed up against his chest. He was bearing his fangs, eyes glowing in the moonlight. The mink scrambled backwards. “W-wilford, it’s me! Minerva!”

The hulking werewolf lunged, making Minerva’s heart leap into her throat- and then replaced by confusion as Wilford sailed over her. He landed with a thud, the sidewalk cracking beneath his mass as he barrelled through the park, uprooting a tree or two in his wake.

A tireless night passed by. Minerva had done everything she could think of; she tried running after Wilford for an hour, she had tried calling the police for a missing person’s report, and she had called Wilford’s friends, leaving a dozen messages and hundreds of frantic texts. She now sat at her valise, chin propped up by her fist, as she stared back at the reflection of a very tired mink- she couldn’t sleep, as she felt partially responsible for the whole mess. Wilford had moved like a force of nature, how was anyone supposed to find him now? Would she ever see him again?

She sighed heavily and began to nod off, until she was jolted awake by a heavy knock that sounded like it was about to punch right through the door. Clutching her bathrobe tightly, Minerva rushed to the door, only to be greeted by a solid wall of blue and steel-grey fur, back by hundreds of pounds of girthy muscle.

“Wilford!”

“Uh… hey, Minerva,” the hulking werewolf rumbled, ducking his head down to fit into the doorframe, his thick jaw wedged between his pecs. “Is… is it alright to come in?”
“You- you’re still a werewolf! But it’s daylight out!” Minerva gasped.

Wilford could only nervously shrug his mountainous shoulders- not that they fit in the mink’s doorway. “I think I’m, uh, stuck like this.” His ears folded. “I’ll… understand if it’s too much for you. I just thought I should say goodbye.”

Minerva bit her lip, looking over the absolute beast before her. She was thinking this over- especially as her eyes settled on the wolf’s massive chest, rhythmically puffing up with each breath. “You scared me half to death, you know.”

“Yeah… I know. I’m sorry, just- I was so hungry, I had to find something to eat- a lot of something.” He rubbed the back of his head, swollen bicep brushing up against his cheek. “I had to leave a note saying sorry on a hot dog cart.”

Minerva’s tail swished excitedly, watching that arm swell. Maybe this could still work… she stepped aside to let him in. “Come in- so long as you don’t maul my fridge.”

Wilford chuckled nervously- he had to come in the door sideways, and even then, the burgeoning swells of muscle forged on his back and the sheer cliff-face of his pecs gently brushed up against the sides of the door. Minerva’s eye lingered for a moment; she never really went for the overly masculine look, but seeing it all now, the sheer power that seemed to be coursing through Wilford’s body- it did send a shiver up her back. “Do you… feel alright?”

“Uh, I feel like everything around me is made out of cardboard and rice paper, but… otherwise, yeah.”

“So you’re stronger, then- this isn’t all just for show?” Minerva asked, her finger tracing along the swell of Wilford’s thigh, causing a tear-drop quad thick as her waist to tense and ripple.

“Oh, loads,” Wilford said, puffing up his chest until it mashed against his chin again.

“Mm… well. I think I might be able to forgive you, Wilford, if you do me one tiny little favor… remember that dead tree in my yard, that I’ve wanted to get rid of?”

The hulking wolf’s ears perked up a bit as he started to catch on. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Can you take care of that for me?”

Wilford rolled his shield-sized shoulders, grinning wide. Without another word, he squeezed himself out the back door, Minerva in his wake and ready for a show. The wolf stopped before a massive, gnarled tree, and wrapped his arms around it. From Minerva’s point of view, she got to see the sheer valley of rippling muscle that made up his back, and the firm, round glutes filling out the remnants of his pants. Every muscle surged as Wilford growled, his biceps and pecs powerful enough to splinter the bark of the tree as he tugged it free, the snapping of roots and the cracking of the ground accompanying a low, bestial growl from the wolf. He hefted the tree on his back, forming a mountain range from his arms and boulder-sized shoulders, peaking with traps so thick they swallowed his neck. With an almighty crash, he tossed the tree down, planting one foot on top of the trunk as he dug his claws into the bark. His arms swelled, his chest pushed forward like a wake, clashing with his biceps, until he split the trunk in two.

Minerva was left fanning herself, her heart fluttering by the display. Lumbering over, Wilford wrapped one massive arm around her, and pressed her up against his engorged lats, his scent an earthy musk that made the mink’s tail swish again.

“Is that all I can do for you?” Wilford rumbled softly. “Or… do you still want me to hold you in my arms, whispering sweet nothings in your ear?”

The mink, nearly overcome, swooned. She took a deep breath, still clinging to the wolf’s side. “Well that’s a start… but I’d love to see if everything about you has grown.”