Larry's Little Secret

Larry’s Little Secret

Larry Fletcher wasn’t a very intimidating man. Hell, he was a complete wimp. He was well into his 30’s, and well over his 300’s in weight. He was already beginning to go bald, he sweat a lot, was barely over 5’8 and wore thick coke bottle glasses. Everyday he went to work in a tacky tight fitting suit and was pushed around by his boss. His only joy came from his lunch break and his T.V. at home. But, Larry was happy enough with his life, he was free of drugs, had steady (though limited income) and he had his privacy. That was enough for him.
But what he particularly liked was that no one ever bothered him. After all, he wasn’t that interesting, who would WANT to bother him; But beneath that boring and uninteresting façade, Larry, had a dark past, A past that although it haunted him from time to time, he was able to conceal.
Larry sat in his usual place on the couch after a long day at his cubicle (which was barely able to conceal his bloated form) and scratched his gut lazily. He flicked from channel to channel in an attempt to entertain himself but found nothing particularly interesting. He wanted to be thrilled by something, he wanted to go out and do something, but… he had work tomorrow and his damn Boss wouldn’t let him go with a moments rest. If there was anything he wished he could expel from his it was him. Mr. Finkle. Oh sure, there were ways, dirty, horrible ways. Then there were clean, precise and exacting ways. But no, he simply couldn’t…or could he? Larry pondered this for a moment and then put it out of his mind, it was a foolish thought. He went to bed immediately after this, and gave the subject no more thought.
But then, Mr. Finkle inspired him.
“GOD DAMN IT FLETCHER!” Larry’s boss shouted at him, startling his co-workers in the cubicles beside him.
“THIS IS THE THIRD GOD DAMN TIME YOU’VE BEEN LATE IN 2 YEARS! WE DO NOT PAY LOSERS LIKE YOU, TO BE LATE, AND SIT ON YOUR FAT ASS DOING NOTHING! IT’S BAD ENOUGH YOU DO NOTHING WITH THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, YOU COULD AT LEAST DO SOMETHING HERE!” he yelled, his finger digging into Larry’s chest, pushing him into the corner of his cubicle.
“B-b-but sir, I was only 2 minutes late? And it’s a Friday sir…” Larry said, trying his best to keep his composure, sweat pouring from his brow.
“OH! OH! So, it’s a Friday is it?! So THAT means that we can all slack off right Fletcher? Ok everyone; take the day off, cause Larry thinks that work doesn’t need to be done! I’ve had it up to hear with you Fletcher, you make me sick! As from this point onward, you sir are fired! Do you hear me? Now get the hell out of my building!” Mr. Finkle said, yelling with such ferocity that it almost flung off his toupee.
“Y-y-you cant do this! I have my rights and I will-“
“Is that so? Then how come I just did. Now you’ve had instruction to leave, but if you don’t want to listen to me, I’m sure Security can further persuade you.” Mr. Finkle said, turning his back on Larry and storming out of the sea of cubicles, slamming his office door behind him.
Larry was speechless; he simply stood in his box clenching his fists with anger. He turned a blood red color, as though he may burst any moment. But just as the rage had filled him, it quickly left and was replaced with a smile. A sinister smile, a smile that one gets when an idea has been confirmed. His co-workers simply turned back around and did their work as usual. He packed up his belongings and left quietly, that same smile plastered to his face.
On his way home, Larry made several stops at several stores; he was not depressed or angered on his visits. He was actually quite happy, like the happiness one feels once they have gotten over an illness. He got home and tossed his things aside and began to clean, still smiling. A few hours later he was done, his things neatly packed away and his decent sized apartment finally looked somewhat presentable. Cheerfully, he picked up the phone and began to dial the number of his previous employer.
“Yes what do you want?” Mr. Finkle answered in his usual cheery disposition.
“Hello, Mr. Finkle sir, this is Larry Fletcher, I believe you fired me today.” Larry said calmly.
“I fire a lot of people, but yes, I think I recall you. As you seem content to waste my time you must have something to say.”
“Oh nothing much, I would just like to thank you for the opportunity to free myself. And I’d like to do it, by inviting you for drinks at my place.” Larry said, playing to the fact that Mr. Finkle was quite the alcoholic.
“Well Fletcher, I think I will take you up on that offer, provided the drinks are free. And uh, I hope your place is in decent order for my arrival.” Mr. Finkle said with an air of arrogance. Larry simply smiled and replied.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way sir, I will be expecting you at 8, and I know you’re a punctual man so I will see you then. Thank you once again sir.” Larry said, and without giving Finkle a chance to change his mind he hung up. Things were finally beginning to look up.
Almost to the exact second, Mr. Finkle appeared at Larry’s door. He opened it to greet him, but he simply forced his way in and gave Larry his Jacket.
“Well Fletcher, not the best place, but at least the rats have a place to go in the winter.” Larry winced a little at this, but kept his composure and hung up the jacket.
“Well I try sir, now, what would u like to have first?”
“Hmmm, straight to the point huh? Well, I’ll have a long island iced tea for starters.” Mr. Finkle said, taking a seat on Larry’s couch.
“Sure thing sir.” Larry said and retreated to the kitchen. He returned several minutes later and handed his former employer his drink. Mr. Finkle took the glass and sniffed it a little.
“I hope this is clean Fletcher.” Mr. Finkle said inspecting the glass meticulously. Larry simply laughed and sipped his own.
“I assure you sir; the last thing you’ll have to worry about is a dirty glass. But please, let us drink to good health.” He said and raised his glass.
“Yeah whatever…” Mr. Finkle said and did the same, quickly downing his glass. Larry took another sip and placed his glass beside him and stood. He paced back and forth in front of Mr. Fletcher who was now, a bit tipsy.
“So, Mr. Finkle, any particular reason why you fired me?” Mr. Finkle held his head a bit and began to sweat.
“WH-what? Why do you ask?”
“Oh I just wanted to see your response, but we both know what it is, you need power. You crave it, you thrive on it. So you pick on little guys like me, and all your employees. But now,” Larry said removing his glasses. “You’re going to know what its like to be completely powerless, to watch an even unfold before your eyes without any way of stopping it…”
“What the hell are you talking about Fletcher?” Mr. Finkle said, now beginning to breathe heavily. Larry lowered his head a bit, then smiled…exposing gleaming white fangs.
“This…” With that his back began to crack in the most horrible of ways. He could hear his spine elongating and his ribs shifting in his chest, his face began to press outward into a muzzle and the fangs became rows of pointed teeth.
Mr. Fletcher watched on in horror and tried to spring to his feet as he saw this short chubby man slowly transform into some horrid beast, but he soon found that he could not, his legs gave beneath him like twigs and he collapsed onto the ground, trying to drag his weight.
The beast before him turned, looking less human and more animal by the second. His ears grew to points and sprouted a coarse thick black fur which continued down his face and neck. He had the head of a wolf already and had grown to at least 7 feet. His hands lurched forward and turned into a hybrid combination of man and wolf, giving him padded furry hands with claws. He had all but lost his gut and now, tight muscle replaced his once flabby form, his chest heaved up and down angrily and snorted a bit, a tail bursting forth from his tattered pants and swayed back and forth slowly. His legs became more canine, now that his body was covered in the same thick fur and what was left of his clothing fell to his ankles. Larry Fletcher was no longer the wimp in the cubicle. He was a force to reckoned with, a beast who knew the joy of hunt and the satisfaction of the kill. And Mr. Finkle suddenly became apologetic.
In a desperate and maddened attempt to crawl away Mr. Finkle dug his fingers into the ground.
“L-l-Larry! Come on, I didn’t mean all that I said. Y-y-you can have your job back, with a raise, just don’t do anything you’ll regret.” The werewolf laughed a sinister yet animalistic laugh as he heard this and yanked the quivering man up by his arm, holding him just inches away from his drooling, tooth filled muzzle. His hot breath stinging his nostrils.
“I already have…” Larry said in a low growl, “By working for you these long years and letting you live through it all, these things I regret.” He said and raised a claw to his chin, making Mr. Finkle look directly into his enraged green eyes. “But now, my only regret is that I didn’t do this sooner.” He snorted and began to open his muzzle wide.
Mr. Finkle screamed an almost inhuman scream as he saw the gleaming fangs approach his face, he hoped it would be quick and his own screams would soon be silenced. But then, the fangs did not puncture his flesh, his life did not end. It only then became apparent to him that Fletcher did not intend to rip his face off. No. he was going to swallow him whole.
Larry’s jaws opened wider and wider with a pop at each side of his jaws, his tongue slithered forward and coated his face in wolf saliva, and with that, his head just as quickly was engulfed by the pink interior of Larry’s muzzle. The remaining shrieks were muffled, now only the sickening gulps of Larry’s ravenous consumption could be heard. Loud and wet. He hoisted his former employer into his mouth effortlessly, his huge paws hoisting him into the moist darkness that would be his grave. Another loud GLURP and his boss’s shoulders were enveloped by his muzzle, his tongue lazily licking him over, savoring every second of this. His eyes closed and his ears folded back as he took another gulp, the nice sized lump traveling down his sleek form and into his once huge now muscular gut.
Mr. Finkle would’ve kicked furiously now, Larry almost expected it, then he chuckled to himself as he remembered the “special” long island iced tea that he gave Mr. Finkle. Another toss of his head and a loud gulp and his waist disappeared into Larry’s voracious maw. The limp legs in his muzzle reminded him of how many others had fallen this way and the familiar bulge in his gut made him feel alive again, with a few more quick gulps the mans legs disappeared into his muzzle. The light sealed off. The sounds of his body digesting him were the last thing he would ever hear.
Larry growled softly to himself and sat back on the couch right in his favorite spot and caressed the squirming bulge that was his gut. His belly was stretched out to capacity and the fur exposed some of the skin beneath but he didn’t care. He felt alive once more and he had his main problem eliminated. He fell asleep there, still as a wolf, stroking his belly and listening to the sounds of digestion. Before he went to sleep he buuuurrped loudly, chuckling to himself a bit.
Mr. Finkle didn’t return to work that day, yet oddly enough, he handed the company over to Larry. Larry had grown a deal bigger since then, but no one seemed to notice. Nor did they notice the occasional resignation of workers every few months. Larry’s little secret was safe…and that was enough for him.

THE END