A familiar voice pops into your head, it smells of trash and old food. “I see you’ve found me another customer.” All of a sudden both of you are dragged back to the were-kitchen, a place you swore that you would never return to. Henrietta reaches down to grab her underwear and pull them back up, seeing as having a couple of skid marks is better than being completely naked from the waist down where there is no bathroom in a public place. You try to grab her before she walks in, but you push the doors open to find yourself in front of nothing, like the building didn’t even exist to begin with. You slide yourself further as you take your clawed hand and start to masturbate furiously, not caring what the public around you thought. Henrietta, on the other hand, had a bit of an interesting experience of her own to deal with.
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With the doors locked behind her, Henrietta had no choice but to continue forward. She had to hold her nose to keep from gagging at the sight of the filth around her. Old food, overflowing trash, and thick grease covered every corner of the place. Suddenly, a voice got her attention from a speaker in the ceiling, “Welcome to the Were-Kitchen. I am the chef of this fine establishment. And unlike the last customer, allow me to show you our special for today.” A barstool appeared behind her and pulled her along an invisible conveyor belt through the kitchen until it reached what looked like a diner’s bar table. A silver platter appeared in front of her, an unsettling, green fume threatening to escape the lid. She pulls the lid off and tries to run as the putrid fog fills the room. It looks like chicken nuggets cut to look like two curled fingers tied together, but it’s so acrid that she swears the meat was rotten before it was fried. The chair wouldn’t let her go, there didn’t seem to be anyone else around, and all that was there were the horrid things she wouldn’t dare call food. Considering she already had an episode a few minutes earlier (which she was still feeling thanks to her not being able to wipe), she really didn’t want to eat it, but there seemed to be no other choice. She reluctantly picked up the bites and bit down on the end carefully. Despite the poor state of the dining area and the disgusting smell, the fried part of whatever this was was seasoned well and tasted pretty good. The next bite, however, ruined the experience immediately as a bitter acid coated the inside of her mouth and the back of her throat. She tried to vomit it out, but it was as if it was already digested, only the other immediate taste and aftertaste left in her mouth. The chair still wouldn’t let her go, but she felt like she couldn’t stomach another bite. She sat in that chair for 10 minutes before begrudgingly picking up the other fried filth. She tried to just swallow it, hoping that she could swallow it without tasting it. It was rough, considering it was larger than most pills she took, and she just about had it, until her throat closed and caused more bitter acid to fill her mouth. She coughed and gagged, seeing the same green fog come from her mouth that was surrounding the fried “food”. Her eyes watered as she rubbed her arms, feeling disgusting after eating something like that. The intercom chimed in again, “Thank you for enjoying our special, ‘Fried Skunk Glands’. You may now leave.” She wanted to hurl, but there was nothing there, as if she never even ate anything. The doors automatically opened as the chair disappeared, leaving her standing in a dark, dirty kitchen. She walked through the door as she ended up back where she left off, in the bathroom of the drugstore. She started to walk out when the intercom chimed in again, “Thank you for visiting our Were-Kitchen. Please return to us whenever you're hungry.” She moved quickly to leave the bathroom as she felt disgusting. What she didn’t know was that you had taken a more feral form and followed her, wanting to see what happens to her yourself.