Time passed over the evening as the restaurant workers slowly realized that their enthusiastic but seemingly normal customer was anything but. As time progressed, the courses he ordered were getting more and more copious, his appetite growing just like his stomach did. It seemed the suit that the wolf wore was merely a facade to hide the unabashed, shameless gluttony that he let himself in for the moment his unfortunate waiter asked "What'll it be sir?"

Torn between allowing the wolf to empty their kitchen stock and letting him pay that steadily increasing bill, staff could only look onwards into closing hours as they continued to give in to the wolf's seemingly endless appetite. First the table took a fall, rendering the staff unable to lay food anywhere, having to personally feed the wolf themselves. Soon enough that enormous backside of his had started to take over the bench around the booth itself as his rolls splayed forward like a mound of soft, grey wolf-dough. He just kept getting bigger, fatter and greedier with each moment with no end in sight.

Soon enough, he'd eaten so much that he was easily the fattest fur in the city, yet he wore this as a badge of pride, sitting back against his huge, pillowy butt, admiring the fact that he was struggling to see past his own mass. He was going to make everyone here rich, at the price of his body swelling to the point of filling, overflowing and perhaps even crushing the booth entirely. As the staff grew exhausted meeting the wolf's insatiable demands, he only wanted more and more, setting his sights on the other booths, wondering if this place had enough food to fatten him up to the point where you couldn't go anywhere in the room without having to press against those wolf-tons...

And still, Malex ate and ate and ate as they continued to enable him.