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Wolfing down your food.

You feel your muzzle push out a little bit more, the fur on your tail lengthens and becomes a more uniform gray, which flows over your whole body, your nose grows a bit, taking on more canine proportions, your teeth grow a bit larger, while your retractable claws push out into a fixed position at the end of each paw, which grow bigger and bulkier with the rest of your body as they take on the proportion of a wold rather then a cat, your clothing staining with the extra muscle. Your shirt rides up your stomach, revealing the food bulge from your recent bout of overeating.

Suddenly though, you don't feel quite as stuffed, in fact your starving, and you quickly grab the closest plate of pastries and begin wolfing them down with renewed vigor. The woman chuckles, returning to her seat and her book. You glimpse the title: Kitchen Witching: 1001 recipes for witches who want to spice up cooking victims with flavor and flare. You glup, swallowing your mouthful even as you reach for the next. The woman is a witch! And she's fattening you up to eat! You've got to stop and get out of here! Then again, those eclairs look so good and your SOOO hungry...

Written by an anonymous author

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