Tiburonito heard the door open. Excitedly, he put his magazine down and stared up, recognizing the cream and brown belly of his friend immediately. "Hey, Sarge! How did it go-ooohoooOOOHOOO!" Tiburonito jumped back, his eyes wide in shock. He could have sworn Sarge was in his mid twenties... not his mid fifties. "Sarge you... uh...." Tiburonito rubbed the back of his head. "Wow, you sure look different."

"Ya don't say?" The werewolf remarked in a gruff tone. "Was this tha surprise you wanted for me?" He poked his mustache, seeming to take interest in it. "I certainly feel... fluffier."

"Uh...." Tiburonito grabbed the pamphlet from his pocket. He read it to himself then looked at Sarge. Putting a hand on the werewolf's belly, he gave it a rub, feeling the fur was, indeed, very soft. "I... don't know? What happened?"

"I went in...." The werewolf scratched his ear, seeming to have trouble remembering what happened. "They sat me down on a chair and started massaging my belly, telling me how good I was gonna look."

Tiburonito noticed the werewolf's belly hair was more prominent than before. He felt his face contort into a frown.

"They then shoved somethin' into my mouth and told me to inhale. I thought it was like... an oxygen mask or somethin', but it turns out it was this here cigar." He lifted a pinky and flicked a bit of the ash off of his cigar. "I spat it out immediately, but they insisted I put it back in."

"So... you did?" Tiburonito rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't take you for a cigar type."

"Neither did I. Never had one in my life!" He took the cigar out and puffed a bit of smoke. "But I just had this... desire to keep it in after that one puff. Dunno what it did, but brown fur started growing on my face and a mustache appeared.... My voice also got deeper and... rougher?" The werewolf chomped on his cigar and squinted an eye shut, looking at Tiburonito. "All I can think 'bout now is how some o' my muscles ache from whatever they did! Massage was certainly nice... but exhausting."

"Uh....." Tiburonito looked at the pamphlet again. He thought he saw something similar to what Sarge described, but had to hazard a question first. "What did they... tell you as they massaged you?"

"Called me a dilf." Sarge snickered. "I knew people liked my belly, but I'm a bit young to be a dilf, dontcha think?"

"Uh...." Tiburonito sighed. "Oh no. I think I got you the 'Gruff Package' instead of the 'Fluff package' by mistake."

"A raspy voice package? That why I'm addicted to cigars now? Not sure I fancy that, but that still doesn't explain the cat-calling... or calling my a dilf."

"Mmmmmmm." Tiburonito bit his lip, pressing a finger into his friend's belly. "Well, the package had a second name, Sergeant Dilf....."

"Oh?" The werewolf cocked a brow.

"Now... you're probably old enough to be... my dad." Tiburonito gulped.

The werewolf's cigar dropped out of his mouth. He immediately caught it with a hand before putting it back in. "But... that'd mean I'm like... 55? Honestly, I don't feel much different! I feel yer pulling my leg."

"I wish I was." Tiburonito shook his head, walking to the front desk to have a conversation with the receptionist.

Sarge watched from a distance, not being able to pick up much with his old ears. But by the time Tiburonito turned around, he could tell the shark was distraught.

"So... good news and bad news." Tiburonito cleared his throat.

"yeah?"

"Bad news... it turns out there's no refund for rapidly aging someone thirty years and making them addicted to cigars." Tiburonito folded his arms. Sarge recognized his expression as one of guilt.

"What's the good news?" Sarge questioned.

"You're highly attractive to anyone interested in a grandpa-aged male with a beer gut and facial hair." Tiburonito patted Sarge's belly. His eyes were apologetic, but his mouth was bent in crooked smile. He had no idea what to make of this situation.

~~~~~

A little drawing I wanted to do for... no real reason.

~~~~~

Sergeant Wolf/Art (C)  pikminpedia Me

Tiburonito (C)  mil-the-windmill