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Haven't We Met?

There's a brief, spectacular display of special effects that would have had any hollywood blockbuster screaming and pounding the walls in a jealous rage. When the smoke clears, the werewolf is standing in front of the witch. In this small room, it looks a lot larger and more menacing than in the hall. The creature looks momentarily disorientated, then it sees you.

Settling into a kind of crouch on the edge of the pool, it snarls, baring its teeth, raising its hackles and flattening its ears. Its eyes haven't left you once, or blinked, and a mad fury blazes in them. Obviously it hasn't forgotten its previous humiliation at the hands of your stomach. The witch cackles gleefuly at this display of murderous ferocity.

"That's it!" she screams. "You know what to do to him!" Her words goad the wolf on, and he takes a maddened step towards your recumbant form.

Enough, you decide, is enough. It takes a bit of effort, and some careful coordination on your part, but you manage to lean forwards and haul yourself upright. The mud had settled around you, but as you rise the water churns back into a thick, sticky consistency, the level dropping like a stone. Despite the effort it takes, the bulk of a hippo definately helps make things more impressive. You rise up, and up, and up, coming out of the water like some ancient water-god. Mud coats the lower half of your body and most of your back, clinging to the huge ball of your belly. Very slowly, you fold your fat arms, up to your knees in squelchy mud, light gleaming off your vast, slicked body.

The wolf visibly quails at the awesome sight. His eyes go a lot wider. Obviously he's remembering just why you were able to humiliate him so easily before. He actually glances uncertainly at the witch, which seems to infuriate her to the point of complete insanity. She dances with rage!

"How DARE you show cowardice! He's nothing! A fat, helpless blob of prey! A feast! Do it! Or the punishment will be worse than you can imagine! DO IT!! NOW!!!"

Her voice cracks on the last word, and it seems to whip the flinching werewolf into action even more than her threats did. He turns back to you, throws back his head and howls. The deafening sound ricochets around the room. The witch is still shouting, goading the wolf on. He takes another glowering step towards you.

You resist the urge to let forth your own hippo bellow of defiance. Instead, you slowly uncross your arms. With great deliberation and in complete silence, you crouch over a little and give your enormous gut a resounding thump. Then you straighten up, hold your arms down at your sides, and brace yourself in a pose that could have come straight out of a pro wrestling magazine. All thats missing is the lycra.


Written by Lupine

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