Wilford's Valentine Woes- Part 3 (Patreon)

Wilford still hasn't quite solved his valentine problem, but now, he's got bigger issues on his mind! Enjoy, and thank you all for the support.

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"To my Valentine, your chest is the best and leaves my eyes blessed- won't you say yes to my request?"

Now these valentines were just getting indecent. No one should be talking about Minerva's chest like that! And why did they keep showing up in his gym bag? Wilford snorted angrily, pushing through his last set on the bench press- the werewolf, in his crusade to be as big and imposing as possible to stave off Minerva's relentless would-be suitors, had built up such massive strength, he was now regularly lifting the weight equivalent of a pick-up trick. The bar groaned and bent under so much weight, but the wolf showed no signs of stopping. Working out and being Minverva's faithful boyfriend had been a full-time occupation, and Wilford had to admit, he was growing to love the feeling of raw strength he carried- he curled one arm, and he felt like the powerful, swollen, stone-like bicep that rose up to meet him, dense as a cannonball and large as a melon, could bend steel. If he could just catch one of these uncouth suitors, he'd love to test that theory out…

Wait, wait. Something was wrong. He set the barbell down and looked around. Why was his vision so blurry all of a sudden? Everything was harder to see, he could barely make anything out that wasn't right in front of him. Then, his heart leapt into his chest. What time was it? The wolf fumbled for his gym bag- he had packed away his glasses just in case he was ever caught out after daybreak, when his were-side would fade away. Slipping them on, he glanced in the full mirror next to the weights, and breathed a sigh of relief. The same titan-sized physique he had spent so many nights on greeted him, the same long, wavy hair, and the same chiseled looks. But… wait, that didn't make any sense. Why would he need his glasses if he hadn't changed back? The wolf glanced at the clock, and then outside- it was sunrise.

Slowly, Wilford stood up, adjusting his glasses as he looked his body over- not an inch, not a single pound of muscle had been erased with the morning sun. His chest was like a canyon, jutting out past his muzzle and close to swallowing up his chin and chiseled jaw. His arms were still enormous pieces of heavy artillery, held up by a sprawling mountain range of broad shoulder muscles. His abdomen was dense and diamond-cut, and his pillar-like legs rippled with the slightest flex, thick, sculpted, round glutes filling his shorts. So what did this mean? Was he no longer a werewolf? Or, had his wereform become his only form? The ramifications about this would be something he would have to consider… but maybe he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Tossing back his flowing hair, Wilford reached for his phone.

"Hi Minerva…" he paused, clearing his throat- his old voice snuck out, there. He tried again, deep and smooth. "Minerva, I think we should discuss a few things over a nice breakfast… and maybe then, we could do a day at the beach. No, no- I mean during the day." He smirked at his reflection, bouncing his heaving pecs, swells of muscle rolling like the tide coming in. "I have a surprise for you, you could say." Maybe a bit more of a display in the sunlight, some shock and awe, would finally scare away these valentine suitors.