This story actually takes place toward the end of my third Hawksaw novella but obviously this silly kink scenario doesn't happen in such detail. Spoilers for Hawksaw 3 but honestly it's such a WIP that honestly it shouldn't matter. You don't need to know much about my characters to enjoy it.
Surrounded by a bunch of giant doting werewolf grandmas was not how JW expected to end his night, but that sure was how it ended. After misdirecting the would-be hunter and ensuring the safety of Shirley and her friends for another full moon, the whole pack had decided to thank him in the customary grandma way--feeding him!
“Ahh-aha, please. You’re too kind,” JW insisted, raising a hand to gently refuse his third helping of peach cobbler that Starr was offering him. The old white wolf just smiled and spooned some ice cream onto his plate to go with it.
“Land sakes, Starr, you’re gonna rot the boy’s teeth out of his head,” Delilah butted in, shouldering the other wolf aside and producing a heaping plate of ribs. “What he needs is meat to put meat on those bones!”
“My bones are--meaty enough, I promise!” JW swallowed and looked between the two werewolves. It wouldn’t do to be rude to werewolves, but he was getting full.
“Oh, hush now and eat up,” insisted Delilah. She turned her long snout down and smiled at him. Something prehistoric in the back of JW’s brain wouldn’t let him read it as a smile though. There were far too many teeth.
“Uh--mhm,” he nodded and picked up his fork. While Starr and Delilah quietly fussed over him, JW leaned back and peered through the modest crowd of towering furry bodies in search of the werewolf he actually showed up with.
He finally spotted her on the sofa by the door. When all the women were changed this way it was hard to tell one wolf from another, but James would know that satisfied grin anywhere. It also helped that Shirley was still wearing her glasses--though now they were far too small for her so they sat perched up between her tufted ears. She raised a clawed hand and wiggled her fingers at him in a taunting wave. JW frowned deeply. If the whole werewolves-being-real thing hadn’t been such a secret and the hunter tracking Starr and her friends down over the years hadn’t been such a pressing and surprising issue, he would have thought Shirley planned this.
She was always on him about how skinny he was.
He had to admit that the food was to die for. The meat was fall-off-the-bone tender and the cornbread was soft and sweet and even the vegetables were overflowing with brothy flavor. No one cooked like a grandmother, wolf or not.
Starr and Delilah had finally gotten distracted over some grandpup pictures one or the other had pulled out of her bag, so JW did his best to buckle down and quietly clear his plate. Maybe they would forget he was there. He had to pause every few bites to lick his lips. It had been so long since he’d had real home-cooked food and so much of it at that. The man in the cap seemed to know what was good for him and remained silent. Refusal and making a scene over some self-imposed punishment wouldn’t fly here and if JW was being honest with himself, the ordeal was slowly turning into a different kind of punishment. His stomach was feeling tighter and tighter.
Just as he plucked the last strands of sweet pork off the bone a shadow fell over him. It was Ruthy. She was a big gray wolf with one bent ear and she smiled kindly down at him. “Getting enough to eat, hon? Only the best for our hero!”
“Yes ma’am! Mhm! Stuffed, actually!” JW shifted in his seat and leaned back to give his stomach a showy pat. A modest little hill was forming just under his ribs. Ruthy squinted down at him through her cataracts.
“Oh, I think you can eat a little more. Here,” she insisted. Ruthy leaned across the table and presented him with a heaping plate of mashed potatoes. James groaned inwardly as she spooned it onto his plate. “There, now, you just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do,” said JW. He looked down at his plate and felt just a little ill. Could he eat it? Oh, probably. He’d been a shameless glutton in his youth. But should he? That was another matter. What if that hunter doubled back and he needed to act quickly?
JW sighed. He could make excuses to himself all night, but not to the eager faces of his hosts. After all, even though he’d protected them, he owed these fine ladies an apology for judging them so quickly in the first place. And as much as he disliked dogs, their puppy dog eyes had an effect on him.
He had almost finished up the potatoes when here came Maurine with her green bean casserole that he simply had to try because the recipe had been in her family for generations and certainly wasn’t just the recipe off the back of the box of french dried onions. Then Starr remembered he existed and insisted she try just the corner of her chocolate cake. Delilah wasn’t having that and demanded he try her ambrosia salad. JW wasn’t sure when she’d done it, but Shirley herself had managed to slip a few slices of baked ham onto his plate. He ate and ate and ate.
“Oooooh,” JW moaned, leaning back in his chair. The savory taste of salisbury steak and onions lingered on his lips but his tongue didn’t dare pass over them least something else be placed upon it. James’s poor belly, which was flat on a good day and sunken in most others, had grown so round that it peeked out from under his shirt. It hurt to breathe and he prayed to God that he didn’t start hiccupping before he could get home and die quietly on the couch.
There was no way he was climbing the stairs to his room tonight.
“I’d better get this pumpkin on home,” he dimly heard Shirley saying. There were roughly two dozen goodbyes and a lot of whining and growling. He didn’t remember how he got from the chair to the passenger’s seat of Shirley’s little rattletrap car but he swiftly came-to when they rolled over a bump.
“Ooouuh,” he moaned again as he stared at the ceiling.
“Bless your heart,” said Shirley from the driver’s seat. She had returned to her human shape and was ducking her head with what looked like a guilty expression behind her glasses. “I didn’t think they’d get so carried away.”
“Am I going to die?” JW asked weakly. He clutched his swollen belly and winced as a stitch of pain shot from his ribs to his navel. James had never been so full in all his life. He shifted a hand under his shirt and gingerly felt around for any part of him that still had any give. There wasn’t any.
“Well, I can’t say for certain, but I think you’ll live.” Shirley replied. She snuck a glance at him and couldn’t help feeling just a little smug. Surely some of that would stick to his ribs.
When they pulled up to the wooden two-story house, Shirely thought better of letting him wander up the hill on his own. If he fell he would roll all the way back to the road. With a quick look around to make sure the lights in the neighboring houses’ windows were out, she changed back into the large two-legged beast JW now knew she was and carried him to his own door. She let herself in and deposited the young man on his sofa where he lay in a daze. Her ears flattened out to the sides as she crouched down to sit with her elbows on her knees. He’d had one hell of a night.
“Thank you,” said JW suddenly. Shirley’s ears stood up in surprise. She had been certain that he’d passed out long before they made it back to Hawksaw.
“Don’t think nothin’ of it...thank you for not turning your back on us.”
“Wouldn’t never...not for bein’ a werewolf anyways.” JW said. “Maybe for...maybe for letting your friends do this to me.” He passed his hands over his stomach again and let out the most pathetic sounding belch Shirley had ever heard. She wrinkled up her long snout up and laughed--a deep sound that filled the whole living room.
“If you’d just eat more, I wouldn’t have to sicc my girls on you now would I?” Shirley reached out a paw that was larger than JW’s whole head and gently patted his belly. “Lord, boy, you fit to bust!”
“Ooooh, don’t do that.” JW whined and grabbed a single finger on her giant paw. He was still for a moment and then, instead of shoving her away, pulled the pad of her hand onto the tightest part of his stomach and left it there. Her warmth caused the painful stitch that had set up shop nearly an hour ago to start fading. Once Shirley caught on to what he was doing, she smirked, showing long white teeth.
“Oh, now you want a belly rub after fussin’ at me all the way home?”
“Mhm,” JW nodded without shame. “You owe me. Ooogh.”
“Suppose so,” Shirely said and shook her head. She massaged her young friend’s achy belly until he started to snore. “You won’t do, Walter. You just won’t do at all.”
