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Ian was petrified, fascinated, watching this violence. All the cameras fed video to computers. Any sound startled the beast as his gory feast continued. It went on and on. Ian realized that the werewolf was gorging on everything, and began to wonder if the ram was enough. He adjusted a camera and saw the distention of the wolf’s gut. He heard a roar and cracking as the werewolf opened a leg bones for marrow. He moved, and the werewolf was suddenly at the bars roaring and threatening, trying to break through the bars. Ian panicked and shot the tranq. The werewolf yipped strangely and fell back, rapidly losing consciousness.
Ian raked the remains out and used a pressure washer to clean the cage. He watched and filmed the transformation into Declan with a whole ram in his belly.
After dawn, Declan woke: Oh, fuck! Did I eat the whole bloody sheep?
Ian: Yea, ya did.
Declan: I feel like I might explode.
Ian: You look like it, too. I thought your digestion would work on it faster.
Declan: I don’t think I had time to digest anything, now, did I?
Ian: I guess not. I made some noise, and you were throwing yourself against the bars. I guess I panicked. It was a big ram.
Declan: Yea, how much du’yu’ reckon it weighed?
Ian: Maybe 150 kilos. I was a big Oxford Down ram, and they’re a big breed.
Declan: And how much would be meat?
Ian: Hmm maybe 75 kilos max. Oh, and then the organs, too. You ate ‘em all, but not the fur or bones.
Declan: Well, from the shape of my gut, I’d say that I ate the whole thing, and it’s very heavy, maybe almost as heavy as the rest of me. I’m blown up like a balloon. At least, I didn’t pop when I changed back. I don’t understand how it could be, but I’m hungry. Would you get some breakfast? I need something big for this hunger.
Ian: Sure, want sweats now or later.
Declan: Oh, now, but I don’t think they’ll fit. It’s like I have another me added on here, a big spherical me that’s like a sodden weight.
Ian: Can you move? [throwing Declan a sweatshirt.]
Declan: Yea, but it’s hard [pulling the sweatshirt over this head and trying to cover his belly unsuccessfully].
Ian: That’s never going to cover your gut.
Declan: Naw, it isn’t, and I’m bettin’ that I’ll just be able to get the pants up under it. [Rolling from his side onto his belly.] Shit. My knees touch, but my hands hardly reach the ground. I’ll never get the pants on. What size are these?
Ian: I think they’re XL American. Need me to put the pants on your legs?
Declan: I think so. I’m not gonna reach round this. Let me scoot over to the bars and try to stand.
He grasped the bars and pulled, working his feet under his center of gravity and pushing his gut off the ground and away from the bars with his arms. He reached a squat, barely reaching the bars with his hands because of the huge sphere of his abdomen. He jerked, bounced, and slid until his belly bumped against the bars painfully and his feet were well positioned so his legs could take the weight. A vast round paunch sagged in front of him as he stumbled toward Ian. Declan was sweating and breathing fast.
Ian: That looked hard.
Declan: It was. I’m gonna have a hard time getting up and down until this swelling goes down.
Ian: You look like you’re pregnant a dozen times over.
Declan: I don’t know how long I can stand like this. Do you think I could have a chair? And where’s that breakfast?
Ian: Chair? Sure, just a second. Breakfast in a few minutes.
Ian grabbed the keys and the security card and scooted a substantial rolling computer chair to the cell door, unlocking it, pushed the chair in and closed the door quickly. He grabbed the chair through the bars and maneuvered it over to Declan, who lowered his normal-sized butt into it and let his vast gut swell down and out before him. Then Ian used cuffs and chains to fasten Declan to the chair and the chair to the cell bars.
Declan: Just in time! I thought my legs would collapse.
Ian: Rest! I’ll get breakfast.
Ian came back with a larger than usual mountain of breakfast. He opened the cell and brought in a rolling table, then he got the tray and put it on the table. Declan was massaging his huge belly, groaning. Ian rolled in another chair, and they feasted off the tray.
Ian: If you eat like that, it won’t shrink much.
Declan: And neither will yours.
Ian: Yea, you’re right about that. Do you think it will really stay that size?
Declan: I don’t know. I think being a werewolf takes huge mounts of energy, so if I’d run the whole night I would have digested it and burned most of it off.
Ian: But I interrupted that, so you’re studly with a huge pregnant gut.
Declan: Yea. It might just stay this way.
Ian: It turns me on, something fierce. Can we?
Declan: Why not!
So Ian fucked his bloated werewolf prisoner, and Declan enjoyed every minute in the chair and on the floor, finally kumming as Ian rubbed the werewolf’s cock against the bloated gut.
Ian: I’m gonna get a scale. I want to know how much you weigh.
The verdict was staggering. Declan weighed 183 kilos (403 lbs.) with probably 80 or so kilos in his gut.
Declan: No wonder I had a hard time standing. I don’t think I ever weighed over 90 kilos before this imprisonment.
Ian (wickedly): Get used to it. I want to see how much you can hold now. I’m gonna get you a barrel of beer and pour as much as you can hold down your throat.
Declan: You’ll need a hoist to get me up off the floor.
Ian: That can be arranged. But maybe, I’ll let you use a nice bed for a change, provided you keep your size.
Declan: I’d like to try that for a change. Wheel me over.
Ian unfastened the chair from the bars and wheeled Declan over to the big pedestal bed. They both grunted to lift Declan out of the chair, but basically they rolled together onto the bed.
Declan: It’s gonna take some time to get my muscles used to moving this bulk.
Ian: Yea, I figured. But I’m gonna chain you anyway to the chair and the bed while I go on a beer run.
Declan: I think I’ll just sleep here a while.
Ian: And we’ll have to plan for the next full moon. I want to see how much bigger you’ll get.
On the greensward of Dounne Castle, the sheep grazed down to the River Teith. The tourists milled about waiting for the start of their morning tour. Ian surveyed the flock of sheep, thinking about what to provide for Declan at the next full moon. Declan, his imprisoned werewolf lay snoring in Ian’s dungeon control center, chained to a rolling chair and the bed, his huge belly pinning him in place after consuming a barrel of beer. Four full moons had swollen Declan to immense size, and the fat was now well distributed all over his furry body, but the most immense feature was his belly that had passed two meters in circumference.
Ian had a small isolated walled courtyard that stood alone not too far from the castle, but well away from anything else. He was thinking of letting Declan and a dozen sheep loose there for the next full moon and see what happened. He fitted it with night cameras and double-checked all the possible entrances, exits, and alternative ways out.
The evening of the full moon came, and Ian released Declan into the courtyard and then climbed to a command position on the highest wall. Dart guns ready and night vision goggles on, Ian watched as Declan waddled around the courtyard, trying various gates, almost exactly the way Ian had earlier. The clearest exit was to climb the walls, but Ian was ready for that possibility. He’d discussed it with Declan.
Declan, shouting: I think as a wolf I could climb a wall, but I don’t know that I’ve tried or had too.
Ian: What about digging your way out?
Declan: I guess that’s a possibility, but I’m not sure it would occur to a wolf-mind. Since you’ve suggested it, I wonder if there’s any chance that my wolf-mind will think that way.
Ian: We’ll have to see.
The sheep wandered around the courtyard chewing on the grasses, not knowing what was coming until they got their first smell of Declan. They went crazy, running and bouncing into each other, knocking heads as they tried to get away, cowering in the farthest corner.
The gradual transformation was something that Ian had studied over the last few months. Declan ran around like a maniac, naked, hyperactive, growling, grunting as the first changes hit, twitching spasmodically. Before Ian had watched this change in a small cell, now it was happening in a much larger space. Declan’s posture seemed to change more gradually and smoothly. He growled and cramped as the canines popped out of a swelling muzzle. Fur, claws, and ears erupted as the transformation proceeded. The fat Declan-wolf howled at the moon. He went after the sheep, but they had more room to run, and they did, scattering all over the courtyard.
The Declan-wolf had to chase them for quite a while before he caught one, crushing its throat, sucking out its blood, and gorging on the meat. The blood, heart, liver, lungs, kidneys, stomach lining, big chunks of muscle and fat and meaty legs were ripped away and swallowed. The others tried to hide behind the wolf, but he soon finished at the hunt began again, to be repeated a third time.
As the Declan-wolf tore into the third sheep, he seemed to reach a panicked hyperactivity tearing ever faster at the flesh. But he didn’t have enough time, he whimpered and ran away from the remains before falling like dead on a patch of grass. The reverse transformation began, faster that ever before. Soon Declan lay twitching on the bare ground, considerably thinner than before. After watching another hour, Ian went into the courtyard and cuffed Declan before dragging him into the cage and driving the little way back to the castle.
Declan woke to the smell of a vast breakfast: Ohh, that smells wonderful, even with the hangover from last night. But how can I be so hungry, and I’m not bloated a bit.
Ian: Indeed, you’re more svelte that you’ve been in months. Evidently letting you have the complete process without interrupting it with tranquilizers does burn up all of the calories that the wolf consumes, and in this case, a little more. Of course, if you gorge like this regularly, you’ll pack it back on.
Declan: Well then, get me more to eat, I wouldn’t want your Little Ian disappointed in my girth.
Ian: Yeah, it’s gotten used to you as a big bellied guy. Finish my pile. I’ll get us another cart.
Ian fed Declan the last of the food, and he groaned in distended agony.
Ian: Serves you right for not keeping that werewolf belly distended.
Declan: You’re punishing me because I didn’t eat enough?
Ian: Yes, I want you back to the size you were before I let you run after those sheep last night.
Declan: I’ll get there, just keep me this full.
Ian stroked Declan’s bloated belly and then the erection that was its regular companion. Declan groaned in pleasure after only a few moments, but, after a brief sleep, the work began again, eating more and more.
Ian measured Declan’s belly and said: It must be bigger after every meal, or I will feed you more or give you an enema until you expand beyond your previous record.
Declan: A new record with every meal, impossible!
Ian: We’ll see.
For the next 27 days, Declan increased his girth at every feeding, but he hadn’t reached the size Ian wanted. With the full moon approaching, Ian loosed Declan in the courtyard and took up his watch position high above, but this time the courtyard was full of sheep.
Declan: What? How can this be?
Ian: I have permission to use this as my sheepfold, Declan.
Declan: What have you planned?
Ian only laughed and patted his tranquilizer gun happily.
The slaughter that night was eight big sheep, but at that point Ian shot the werewolf Declan and dragged him out, using a wheeled lift, his belly more massive than ever before – out of the sheepfold, into the truck, to the dungeon entrance, into the castle basement. Ian could barely roll the nude, immensely bellied Declan into the cell. He had to squeeze the belly through the cell door.
Then dawn came. Ian directed a stream of hot water onto the sleeping Declan, waking him.
Ian: Now that’s more what I was looking for.
Declan: I don’t believe it. I’m starving.
Ian: That’s why the low table is beside you and piled with more food than you’ve ever eaten.
Declan: But how do I get to it with this belly?
Ian: Hmmmm, that’s not a problem you can solve, is it?
Declan’s belly was a sphere that rolled on the ground between his legs further than his knees and swelled up to the height of his chin. His arms could not reach around it at its circumference. He could shake it but not move it. Ian moved the table within reach of Declan’s right hand and pushed it firmly into the vast belly, pushing it deeply into his right love handle, allowing a massive breast to hug the table’s surface, pushing aside a pile of pastries. Declan stuffed food into his maw for hours. Then Ian chained Declan’s left hand to a bar before pushing more food within reach.
Declan: I’m glad there’s more.
Ian: Well, fill up. Then we need to measure your new vastness.
Declan: It is immense, isn’t it.
When the glutton filled himself, Ian measured him at just over three meters. The scales were more difficult, but eventually the cattle scale revealed 413 kilograms.
Ian: We’ll have to work on your leg muscles until you can lift yourself.
Declan: Otherwise I’ll need a crane to lift and carry me.
Ian: Let’s get you into the bed for the third course.
Wheels protested Declan’s bulk. Ian used jacks and a short inclined plane to get Declan even with the bed and then rolled him onto the soft surface.
Declan, waving his arms feebly: I can’t reach.
Ian: But I can.
Ian stood on the bed and fucked Declan before collapsing across his wide back for a nap.
Ian: Now, how will we work with this new size.
Declan: Could you help me get over the edge and get my legs under me?
Ian: Yes, but I think we keep your belly supported by the bed and very gradually let your legs take some of the weight.
Declan: That’s a good idea.
After a struggle, Declan’s legs touched the cold stones of the floor. The belly flowed. The buttocks were too small to balance it. Declan and Ian rocked back and forth, sweat dripping off each of them, mingling.
Over the next six months, I kept Declan’s size increasing. He reached five meters in girth and pulleys, winches, jacks, and rolling platforms were necessary to get him around. During this time, his monthly werewolf body grew taller, sleeker, more thickly furred, massively muscled, thick-chested, but with a large paunch. Ian began to advertise discretely and a new type of tourist began to arrive at the castle around the period of each full moon. They paid premiums for the rooms, food, and a seat to watch Declan the Werewolf gorge. Money was good. Some tourists paid extra to come into the dungeons and feed Declan’s massive human form. Declan was stronger and happy to oblige, so long as food was involved and he didn’t have to move too much. What Ian didn’t realize was how strong the werewolf was becoming under all that fat.
Ian drove the flatbed with Declan to the little arena with its herd of sheep and three cows and left Declan there while Ian made preparations. Six tourists arrived with drinks and an evening picnic to watch; they’d paid for that and the best night vision goggles on the market. Ian locked everything down and sat at his perch waiting. The moon rose, and the transformation began this time with that massive flab that stuck out about two meters from Declan’s chest. It quivered and twitched, being absorbed somehow into the changing body. Declan’s arms and legs thickened and grew hugely muscular. He grew taller and wider. His muzzle and fangs grew out of his face and the fur thickened all over his naked body. As the vast sphere of belly contracted, his paws and claws erupted and grew so that they touched the ground in front of his body. Eventually, the belly shrank so that is no longer touched the ground and his four legs grew elephantine, with ropes of thick muscles under the sleek fur. He stood on all fours, and the belly swayed widely. Muscles in his ass and shoulders thickened. His fur looked softer and thicker, longer. His head seemed almost a meter wide with glowing eyes as he howled at the moon, a petrifying deep throatiness that was different. He snuffed and moved, muscles pumping thicker, belly still shrinking, grabbing a lamb and consuming it in two minutes. The Declan werewolf checked the strength of the enclosure, running, beating himself against it. He looked at Ian with slavering grin. Something was different, but Ian couldn’t place it.
The Declan werewolf took one of the cows, dragging it near Ian so everyone had a good view, and spent the time to gorge. Ian relaxed. The wolf howled and stretched. He sprang up, coming up the wall some towards Ian. Ian pissed himself because he wasn’t ready and the Declan wolf came so near. But he ran to the other side of the enclosure and howled. He jumped up, and Ian realized the difference. The Declan werewolf had a massive erection. There had to be a mate somewhere, and he could sense her. He climbed the walls, almost reaching the top, and then he dashed back at Ian. This time he reached his perch and batted Ian the top of his head. Ian missed any chance to shoot him, and the huge wolf scrabbled past, thick fur rubbing against me as Ian escaped the arena. He was bounding across the open field when Ian finally shot him with the tranquilizers. Three hit, but he was still going.
Ian told everyone to stay put and went for his motorcycle, planning to hunt him, in the dark, swearing about not having recalibrated the dose for the wolf’s new size, so he might not go to sleep for a while or at all. Declan howled and was answered. Ian headed in that direction, pausing to listen for him and the howls of the female. The noise of mating brought him closer. Ian watched the climax and shot both of them. The female faded into the bush, Declan dropped and slept, the mating frenzy spent. Gradually, he transformed back, but because he hadn’t eaten much and had expended a huge amount of energy he was smaller than he had been except for the first night of his capture. Ian looked for the female, but didn’t find her.
The guests at the arena were excited because the female had run past just before Ian got back. She seemed to be following a trail and had headed towards the castle. Ian had missed her. They came with him to gather Declan, noticing his decrease in size and wondering how often a she-werewolf came into heat. Ian wondered if there might be a cub. They had pictures; Ian had video. They wanted to come back the next month, but Ian was booked and worried. One werewolf was a problem; two could be a disaster that Ian couldn’t contain.
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