It was a dark and stormy night. I sat alone in my dressing room at the
Beacon Theater, waiting for the rest of the Tally Hall guys to finish
setting up their gear on stage for the big New Year's Eve show. Joe
Hawley burst in suddenly, his knapsack full of toys bouncing against
his back.
"Andrew, I just got the coolest new miniatures to add to my hobby
diorama!" Joe exclaimed excitedly. "Want to see?"
I sighed. "It's almost showtime, Joe. We need to get ready."
"Awww, c'mon Andrew! They're really trippy!" Joe persisted, dumping
the contents of his bag onto my lap. Tiny plastic soldiers, tanks, and
buildings scattered everywhere. As I brushed them aside impatiently,
Joe plopped down in a chair and began arranging his pieces.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. "Andrew? Joe? We're
gonna start any minute!" It was Rob Cantor's voice.
"Just a sec!" I called back. I turned to Joe. "Seriously dude, put that
stuff away and let's go."
Joe looked up at me with his big, puppy-dog eyes. "Five more
minutes? Please?"
I rolled my eyes but relented. "Fine. Pack it up quickly."
As Joe busied himself with his toys, I stood up to adjust my mirror. I
noticed my reflection looked a bit strange. My face seemed to be
covered in fine, downy hairs. I reached up to touch my cheek and
gasped. They were real! I was growing a beard, or rather, the
beginnings of one.
Joe glanced up and noticed my consternation. "Hey, looking good,
Andrew!"
  I shot him an evil look. "It's your fault, isn't it? What did you put in the
sandwiches you made for lunch?"
Joe had the decency to look sheepish. "I may have accidentally used
the special 'experimental' mustard I've been brewing in my bathtub. I
thought it made the ham taste kind of funny but I wasn't sure..."
I could feel the fur rapidly spreading across my face, down my neck,
and chest. "You idiot, Joe! I'm getting hairier by the second!"
Just then, Rob stuck his head in the door. "Are you guys coming or
what? The crowd is getting restless!"
I froze, suddenly realizing how exposed and vulnerable I felt in my
newly hirsute state. "I...I don't feel so good, Rob. You'll have to go on
without me."
Rob looked concerned. "You're not coming down with something, are
you? We can't do the show without you."
I shook my head, feeling the fur tickle my ears. "I'll be okay, just give
me a few minutes. Start without me and I'll join in as soon as I can."
Rob nodded. "Alright. Feel better, buddy." He ducked back out and
closed the door.
I turned to face Joe, who was still crouched on the floor amidst his
scattered miniatures. "This is all your fault, Hawley! I'm going to kill
you!"
I advanced on him, my fingers curling into claws. Joe scrambled to his
feet and backed away. "W-wait, Andrew! I'm sorry! I didn't mean for
this to happen!"
But I was beyond reason. A red haze of fury descended over my
vision. I lunged at Joe and tackled him to the ground. He let out a yelp
  of surprise as I straddled his chest and pinned his arms above his
head.
"Please Andrew!" Joe squeaked. "Don't!"
I couldn't explain the primal urge that surged through me. It was as if
my body had developed a new hunger, one that only Joe's flesh could
satisfy. I bent my head down and opened my mouth as wide as it
would go. Then I engulfed Joe's head, my lips stretching obscenely to
accommodate his skull.
I could feel Joe's legs kick and his hands beat against my chest as I
gulped him down, but he was powerless to resist my strange new
physiology. I swallowed convulsively, feeling him slide down my gullet
and settle heavily in my stomach.
It was surprisingly painless, at least for me. I could only imagine that
being swallowed alive was deeply unpleasant, but that was Joe's
problem, not mine. He was the one who served me
hairy-growth-inducing bathtubbard mustard!
I stood up, running my hands over my newly distended middle. I could
feel Joe squirming around in there, his struggles growing weaker by
the second as my stomach acids went to work. A deep, rumbling belch
escaped my lips.
The door cracked open and Rob poked his head in. "Andrew, are you
okay? I heard a funny noise."
I quickly turned away to hide my tremendously engorged belly. "I'm
fine, Rob, really. I just...ate something that didn't agree with me."
Rob looked dubious. "Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?"
I shook my head violently, sending the new hair swishing. "No, I just
need to...to digest for a bit. I'll be right out, I promise."
  Rob shrugged. "If you're sure. We'll start the encore then."
He shut the door again and I let out a sigh. I crossed to the mirror and
examined my expanded middle. I looked like I was in the late stages
of pregnancy. As I watched, my stomach undulated and churned,
working to break down its unwilling occupant.
I could only dimly hear Joe's fading screams, muffled by the thick
layers of muscle and digestive juices. Soon there would be nothing left
of him but a few stray hairs and a pile of smelly gases. It was a fitting
end for such a clumsy fool.
I smiled to myself as I imagined how confused and frightened Joe
must feel, trapped in the hot, dark prison of my gut. I almost felt bad
for him. Almost.
But I pushed the thought aside. I had a show to finish, after all. I just
hoped I wouldn't start burping up bits of digested Joe in the middle of
our set. That would probably freak out the audience.
I took a deep breath and headed for the door, my stomach sloshing
and gurgling with every step. I wasn't sure how I was going to explain
my new look to the guys, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.
For now, the show must go on.