Living Even Larger

You think you're beginning to see a pattern in all this.

First, you had the run-in with the witch, who turned you into a bull and fattened you up. Then the werewolf bit you and that fattened you up more. Then the werewolf tribe fattened you up yet again, and now the dragoness has been stuffing you silly for a week straight, almost nonstop, explicitly to fatten you up. Either this is quite the coincidence or this forest (or the universe, or the powers that be) is going out of its way to make sure that no matter what happens you keep getting fatter.

You decided a few days ago that, given your current state, you're going to stop worrying about it and just enjoy the ride.

It's been roughly a week since the dragoness took you in, and in that time the constant stream of food shoveled into your waiting mouth has roughly doubled your weight from dawn to sundown each day. You have no idea just how much you weigh, exactly, but you estimate you're about the size of six or seven blue whales put together. That's what it looks like, certainly: your stomach, your butt, even the rolling expanse of chins that splay out in front of your face are all starting to look more like unusually smooth, furred geological features than any animal. You're having a hard time simply comprehending how large you are.

It's... pleasant in a way you hadn't expected. You wonder idly whether there was something in the potion to make you receptive to this, or if being a werewolf really just made you that gluttonous. Either way, you think as the dragoness brings you yet another small mountain of food, you're enjoying the sensation of just getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger...

Suddenly, you snap out of your introspection as the dragon drops the platter, clutching her distended stomach. "Oh... it's time!" she grunts through obvious pain. "I need to go sit in my laying nest," she grunts again, "right now. Follow me."

Wait, follow her? How, exactly?

Written by an anonymous author

"I can't even move!"

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