Dark Hunger- Part 1 (Patreon)

Jon Talbain finally looks to sate his wolfish hunger, but can he bear the weight of the consequences? Enjoy, everyone, and thank you for your continued support!

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Jon Talbain had been haunting the dark streets of London for years. In the daylight, he was just another bloke, trying to make his way, but at night, he was the most fearsome beast in the city's dark underbelly- a terror to many, a hero to others, he had lived as a werewolf for as long as he could remember. The wolf delivered him strength, durability, speed, and agility greater than any beast or man- but it also brought with it an unrelenting hunger. Always, he had to keep his impulses in check, always, he had to stay disciplined- one slip up, and he would become the monster so many feared him to be. He had kept this balancing act for years, but it would take only one bad day..

"So why don't ye just go out and get sumthin' to eat?" Morrigan asked. Jon had met the Gaelic Succubus after feeling sorry for himself a little too long- as another Darkstalker, he hoped she might understand his plight.

"That's what I'm trying to avoid!" Jon growled. "I can't just pick someone to eat- it… it wouldn't stop at just one!"

"I said sumthin', not someone, ye great oaf," Morrigan said, rolling her eyes. An extravagant beauty with porcelain skin, flowing, bright hair, and a voluptuous body, she made odd company for the large, beastly werewolf. "I mean. Do ye have to eat people?"

"I need meat. Prey," he growled.

"Oh! Is that all the problem is?" Morrigan laughed. "I can help with that. Ye're in London- city of millions. People got t'eat too, dun they? Let's scope out a butcher's shop, then, or a slaughterhouse- I'll keep whoever's keepin' watch distracted, and ye can gorge yerself until ye're full."

"But that's… that's stealing."

"Oi! Hark at this one," Morrigan laughed. "We've both committed crimes just for breathin', Jon. Come on. If it finally keeps yer hunger at bay and means yer safe around people, ain't it worth it?"

Jon grumbled for a moment, the werewolf thinking. He cast a suspicious eye in Morrigan's direction. "Why are you doing this? Helping me, I mean."

"I'm bored," the succubus shrugged as she slid off her perch on the rooftop where they had been talking. "Besides, it's better than listenin' to yer bellyachin'. So, waddya say? Do we have a dinner date?"

Jon chewed on it for a moment. "It's worth a shot, I suppose."

The two made their way down the backstreets and shadowy, dark places of London- Jon prowling like the king of beasts he was, Morrigan flying through the night when the moon was shrouded by clouds. They finally came to one of the larger butcher shops in London, employees getting ready to close for the night. Morrigan glanced to Jon, adjusting her tight-fitting top that hugged her well-developed form. "Give me ten seconds, then you can sneak around back to the meat locker, and chow down."

"You only need ten seconds?" Jon arched his brow.

"Five, really," Morrigan giggled. "But I'd like t'give ye a bit of wiggle room."

Jon watched Morrigan enter the butcher's shop. As she said, within five seconds, all the men inside were entranced. Jon braced himself, and rushed for the back entrance. It was simple work to dig his claws into the heavy door and pry it loose from its hinges- he was met with a blast of cold air, and then a delectable scent. Meat. Mountains of it- pork and heavily marbled beef, flanks of veal and mutton, whole chickens and turkeys, linked ropes of sausage- his nose was going wild, his stomach growled, and the wolf saw its evening meal. The werewolf lunged for a flank of beef nearly as big as him, and ate with reckless abandon. The wolf glutted itself on anything its claws and fangs could reach, and Jon was lost to his hunger.

He picked bones clean and sucked their marrow, he lapped up every last drop of juices and oils, and savored every succulent morsel. He was in ecstasy- perhaps it wasn't the thrill of the hunt, but oh, it was a meal he would remember forever. He only slowed down when he noticed himself bumping into the walls and tables, the pathways through the meat locker seeming to grow more and more narrow. Finally, he tore himself away from his gorging long enough to see what the issue was- it was him. There was simply more of the werewolf- a lot more. In gorging himself, he had packed away mountains of food- hundreds of pounds of meat, and his werewolf physiology had responded. As quick as if it were knitting over a wound, that same healing factor that kept Jon in fights for as long as he lasted turned to his digestion and metabolism. His belly bulged out, inch by inch, lapping further at the bounds of his waistline like the tide slowly coming in. But there wasn't enough room- the calories had been broken down already to make more room, into large, overfull deposits of fat that now encased his once lean and muscular body. Every part of the werewolf was growing- his legs were now ringed with heavy swathes of fat, chunky thighs rubbing against each other and forcing him into a waddle, his hips and rear rounder and rounder, until his ass cheeks were spilling out of his pants. Back fat was caked on, love-handles billowing out, his arms wobbling with reams of blubber as he snatched for more and more morsels. Multiple chins slapped against a pillowy inflated chest, and round cheeks jiggled with each bite.

Huffing as he carried the extra weight, and his gait slowing, Jon reached out for one last drumstick… and he withdrew his hand. He leaned back, holding up his massive, roiling gut, and it dawned on him- he was full. He didn't feel hungry anymore. He would have leapt with joy, if indeed, he could still jump. A surge of emotions was welling up inside Jon- relief that he may have finally found at least one solution to curbing his hunger, shock at the titanic weight he was now carrying on his doughy frame, and then a sudden burst of panic- how long had he been gorging himself? The night would only last so long. Once again huffing as he dragged along the floor, holding up his engorged gut so it wouldn't press along the floor, he waddled for the exit. Jon pressed himself through the door- his belly preceding the rest of him by a few good seconds. He squeezed his arms through, and then, he came to a sudden halt. His feet clawed at the floor, scraping against it- he was stuck. His immense rear and round hips were wedged into the door. Claws scrambled to get a grip on the door frame, and Jon looked to the sky- the moon was dipping beneath the roofline of the buildings around him. Dawn was coming, and then he would be completely helpless. His ears flattened as he heard the door creak open on the other side, and the overstuffed werewolf braced for the butcher's screams…