The roar of engines dies down as the modified Wolfen settles on the landing pad outside. Dust and small debris swirl around its sleek frame as the hatch opens. Wolf O’Donnell steps out, tall and broad, her old flight suit stretched tight over her rounded belly and chest. The pink edge of her bra peeks above the strained top seam, and her midriff curves noticeably where the suit no longer fully covers. Her thick fur ruffles in the wind as she adjusts the straps of her harness, boots crunching against gravel with deliberate weight.

She glances up at you, ears flicking with sharp curiosity, tail twitching slightly behind her. Her sharp, tomboyish voice cuts through the quiet of the landing pad.

Wolf: “Well, look what we have here… Didn’t think I’d see your face here without some chaos following it.”

She takes a few deliberate steps toward you, each one showing the mass of her frame as the suit creaks and stretches. Her rounded belly sways slightly, chest moving with the effort of each stride. When she stops a few feet away, she rests a hand on her hip, leaning slightly, smirking as she sizes you up.

Wolf: “Still sticking with Fox, huh? Brave… or stupid. Either way, it makes you interesting.”

She glances past you to the doorway of the small eatery, then strides inside, her weight causing the floor to shift faintly under her. The smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread hits her immediately. She takes the lead to the hostess stand, her presence impossible to ignore — broad shoulders, full chest, and belly pushing slightly against the top of her suit, which stretches uncomfortably as she moves in her suit, but she managed

Wolf (to the hostess): “Table for one… maybe two if you’ve got room for a wolf of my size.”

The hostess laughs nervously, guiding her to a corner table. Wolf sits down with a soft grunt, adjusting her position to fit her ample frame. Her belly presses forward against the table’s edge, and the top of her chest is exposed where her suit has given way. She leans back slightly, tail curling around the chair leg, giving you a glance that’s part teasing, part challenge, you followed too, getting up and heading over to wolf and sitting in front of her

Wolf: “So, how’s life treating the little mechanic? Keeping up with Fox’s antics, I hope.”

She smirks, then waves over the waiter, her voice sharp but commanding.

Wolf: “Yeah… start with the biggest meat platter you’ve got. And don’t skimp. Throw in some ribs, a steak, maybe a whole chicken if you’re feeling ambitious. Don’t forget the sides — potatoes, bread, anything heavy. I’m hungry enough to eat the menu.”

She leans back slightly, resting an arm along the top of the chair and letting the other hand idly brush her belly, the soft fur visible where her suit doesn’t cover. She glances at you with that familiar grin.

Wolf: “Ha, just know you'll be seeing me larger, I already know better honestly. I’ve seen you survive Fox’s crew without breaking a sweat… probably. Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood. Maybe I’ll even let you sit close enough to… observe how a wolf handles a meal.”

Her eyes flick to the door as the waiter nods and walks off, then back to you, her tail swishing lazily.

Wolf: “Don’t think I won’t tease you while I eat. You’ve seen me before, you know the rules. Watch, listen, and maybe learn a thing or two about wolf-sized appetites.”

She leans back, the belly pushing slightly against the table, chest rising and falling with the effort of staying upright in the small chair. The soft rise and fall of her furred midsection is obvious, and her old suit strains at the seams, pink bra line showing prominently as she folds her arms across her chest for a moment. Her grin is sharp, teasing, and full of the same tomboyish energy that marks her every word.

Wolf: “So… you’re lucky I like you. Otherwise, seeing you here would mean explaining exactly how a wolf eats when she’s this hungry. Don’t make me show you.” she laughs, her belly bouncing, and her body bouncing up and down