John groaned as he woke up, looking around the room he was in a couple times as his vision began to clear; it flickered once or twice before doing that. He blinked a few times, moving up a hand to rub the grogginess from his turquoise eyes slightly as he tried to survey his surroundings. The last thing he remembered was walking through downtown, on his way home from a night at the pub with his friends. He was here now though, and he knew he hadn’t drank enough to pass out in some gutter or to go home with a strange person. Something had happened to him, and sure enough as he began to take in his surroundings and feel the floor below him, he could tell something was up. He moved to stand, and as he did so he got a look up above him, and could really see something was wrong. He went pale at that sight, and began to look around more frantically. Sure enough, it was just what he thought it to be, and that sent new twinges of fear down his spine.
He was trapped in a cage.
This was no ordinary cage, for it was far larger than one Johnathan had seen to be used indoors. It looked to be nearly the size of a jail cell, and yet try as he might he saw no door in or out of it. It was against a wall, and with a light push against said wall he felt that it was made of concrete. The floor below was the same, and the only reason John wasn’t stiffer from waking up was thanks to the few blankets which appeared to have been laid out for him. The hybrid human just looked around again though, hoping that he had missed something, anything that would help him get out and to his freedom. He didn’t see anything though, as there wasn’t much to see outside of the cage either. A mostly sparse room with a grand kitchen on the other side of it, and a table between himself and that kitchen. Nothing else there, no windows or doors that he could see from his vantage point. He was trapped, no way in or out, and he had to wonder now just what he was going to do.
As John slumped down to the floor in defeat, he moved towards the rails and placed his hands on them. He then put his head against them, letting his deep brown fox ears brush the metal as well as he rested there. He needed to think, but right as he tried to he felt something push against his lips. Startled, he pushed back instinctively, and felt cream get onto his face. He had to lick it off as he pulled back, startled and unsure of what it was but unable to stop himself. It was sweet, almost too sweet, and he was shocked. He hadn’t heard anyone come up, and he was almost afraid to look up as he licked the food from his lips. The treat got pushed against them though, this time a little more forcefully, and he had to eat it that time or risk making a mess of himself. He took it into his mouth, and as he did so he felt two fingers push against his lips very gently to get the whole thing in. This made him look up, and he went pale yet again as he saw just who his captor was. His vision flickered.
Looking back at him was another human hybrid; a brown, busty, scantily-clad one. Her white hair was pulled back into a bun behind her hear, and her matching, pointed ears twitched slightly as her gaze met his. She didn’t say a word, just smiling at him seductively as he looked up at her. His eyes were immediately drawn to the large amount of cleavage on display for him, the form-fitting black dress she was in showing off every single curve of her plus-sized frame. Her breasts and hips were easily the most obvious part of her built, and even black did little to hide them. John had trouble not staring, for she was well past attractive in his eyes. He let his impromptu meal sit in his mouth while he looked her up and down, drinking the sight in as he saw a tail flick out from behind her thick rear for but an instant, confirming that she was indeed a hybrid like him, though what species he was unsure of. He didn’t much care though, as he was too busy drinking her in and wondering just why she had taken him.
Chewing up his food and swallowing it after a few awkward seconds of staring, John opened his mouth to start talking to his captor. This action was met with more food though, this time some sort of other pastry that seemed just as creamy and rich as the last. He had to eat it too, though begrudgingly as he felt the cream push onto his cheeks and even dribble slightly down onto his clean, white shirt. He hoped his vest didn’t get any of the cream on it, but he didn’t really have a chance to care as he just looked up at the woman again with questioning eyes. He still chewed up her offering though, and instead of opening to speak this time he just waited for the next treat. Something about them was as addicting as looking at her was, and it had taken just two of them to get him hooked. He didn’t know what it was, or why he wanted more, but it felt as though some innate part of him needed more of them. Something in his brain had been tripped, and John wasn’t fully aware of what it was.
“I’m Sandra, it’s nice to meet you John. Before you ask… You were the easiest one to take, so that is why you are here. That, and I want to take you and fatten you up, plain and simple. You are going to eat whatever I give you, however I give it to you, and you are going to like it. It’s a pretty simple life, and I can promise that it will all be worth your while to do what I say…” As the female said that, she leaned down a little more towards John to show off even more of her cleavage, even going so far as to shake herself side to side just to further tease the caged hybrid. John nearly choked on the pastry he was eating. “So, this is going to be your life for now. I hope you understand dear…”
It had been what felt like months since that exchange. Without windows to let John gauge time, nor a real sleep schedule as Sandra barely gave him time to recover from one feast before starting on another, the hybrid sank into a spiral of just eating and sleeping. This had done wonders for his waistline, and not the kind of wonders which he was initially fond of. He was being reconditioned by Sandra though, constantly encouraging him to eat just a little more and rewarding him with more aggressive, and sensual, touches to his body. He would often be hard as a rock by the time he was done engorging himself on his latest feast, and as such was beginning to associate food with sexual pleasure. This was not to say that he was fully there, not that thoughts of escape didn’t fill his head nearly every waking moment, but those thoughts were getting quieter as time went on. Time that he wanted to judge, but wasn’t going to be allowed to.
Waking up slowly, the human-fox mix gave a deep yawn, followed by a belch which made his throat hurt with the sheer power of it. Giving a bit of a whimper at that, he rolled over on the uncomfortable floor which he had slept on all this time to face the kitchen, his one view. In it, as always whenever he woke up, was Sandra with a cart of food. Another flicker. The hybrid groaned and forced his hands straight to his stomach, feeling them stop even shorter than they had the previous day. How much he had grown was beyond him, and how he could even judge it without a mirror was something he was trying less and less to think about. John knew he had grown fat, and there was no denying it. The way his arms would shake themselves just a bit with every movement he made. The way his thighs would brush against one another when he took each uncertain step towards his food, and Sandra. The way his stomach now sagged over his undone pants and hung towards the floor more than it ever had. It was all making itself apparent to him more and more every day, and part of him hated it.
“Awake again, are you darling? You have breakfast waiting for you.” The sing-songy voice of Sandra broke John’s thoughts, and he was so trained to respond to her that he just rolled over once to get closer to the bars without thinking. He did notice how his stomach and rear acted like stops for his rolling frame, taking effort to get past their gravid mass in order to do that, but he didn’t think much of it; what could he do about it at that point other than give in and get fatter? Once to the bars of the cage, he dragged himself up to a sitting position using the wrought iron bars as support, feeling parts of his body which he hadn’t had until his captivity settle and slosh about with newly-made blubber. It was enough to make his cheeks turn bright red, and not just from the embarrassment of it; he was having trouble moving around now that he had let his muscles deteriorate from lack of use.
“Good boy, now open wide,” Sandra cooed, holding out a large, unwrapped muffin for John. Mechanically he opened wide, every part of him trying to resist but his brain and his programming overriding all of it. He was still full from dinner the previous night, a meal which had bloated him out so large that his shirt had torn down the front from being so stretched. His other clothes were already in tatters from being so strained with so much hybrid fat, and John knew it could only get worse. He didn’t mind being naked persay, and knew that he was getting large enough that his own body would keep him decent, it was just the principle of it all. He had once been a fit, attractive man, and now this witch had taken that from him and reduced him to a weak, fat glutton that did nothing but eat. His logical mind hated her for it, but as he ate the first of what looked to be two dozen pancakes, a small part of him loved this existence. No bills, no work, nothing but gorging and relaxing, and sometimes sexual pleasure. It was heaven for some, and yet the cost of it was negligible; just his build and his dignity. Had it been months prior, he would have resisted. Now though, that thought was just strong enough to join forces with his programming and make sure that he was complacent for Sandra.
Not needing to feed himself meant that John’s arms were free to do as they pleased, and they went to rubbing his swollen stomach almost immediately. They cradled the mass of it, rubbing the swollen, barely-covered sides in slow arcs. His fingers brushed over many-a-stretchmark, feeling the angry red lines which adorned his flabby surface and blushing again at how many there were. He was littered with them, but that was to be expected when he gained as fast as he did. It was another blemish to his frame, and yet one that he didn’t care about. The weight, sure, but the marks… They were a product of the weight, and nearly a badge of honor in some twisted way. He continued to run over them with his fingers, and could nearly feel them growing as he was forced to consume more and more food. It was as though he had something on his body to constantly remind him what was happening to him, and that was enough to make him groan just a bit with remorse, and the faintest hint of arousal.
Food spilled from his lips as he did that, and for the first time since he had been brought into captivity, John didn’t wipe it up. Sandra beamed at that, though this was unbeknownst to John as his eyes had slid shut and he just kept on chewing, swallowing, and repeating like the machine he had become. The witch began to pick up her pace now that she saw her magic was working even better, and faster, than she anticipated. Bagels, eggs, bacon, sausage… It all came at a breakneck pace, so much so that much more of it spilled down onto John. The food was going into him just as much as it was falling out of his overstuffed mouth and swollen cheeks down onto his shirt and the floor below. Having been stained with sweat and musk for months of being unable to wash with little more than a rag, the once-white material began to look more akin to something a true glutton would wear, rather than the once-lithe hybrid’s attire. John did nothing to resist this change though, as part of him had finally cracked. Neither he nor Sandra was sure just what had broken in his mind just then, it was as if a switch had been flipped for him to stop trying to resist. To stop trying to remember what it would be like to escape or to get himself out of the cage. He was ready to truly grow, and Sandra was ready for him to do that too.
All too soon her hand scraped an empty plate, and then another, and another after that. Groaning softly to herself, she stopped her flurry of feeding and stood up to admire her handiwork. Laying flat on his back on the floor was John, having toppled over now that he got a break from gorging. Food spilled out of his mouth and onto the floor, a half-eaten pancake resting beside his face. His eyes were shut in tortured agony from the amount he had just been forced to eat, and yet giving him a quick look showed that his pride was sticking straight up into the underside of his bloated stomach. That ball of food attached to his abdomen, which his hands brushed over gently in a vain attempt to soothe the pain inside of it. He was stuffed to the point that his belly-button was a shallow divot, the rolls of fat that normally adorned the sides of his fat stomach were stretched tight, his paunch was round rather than plush, and his breathing was shallow to try and put no pressure on his stomach. It was a sight to see, and Sandra couldn’t help but lick her lips as she drank it all in.
Unable to stop herself, the witch reached through the bars and clasped a sole hand around the length of the fox-human mix. This granted a deep, guttural groan from the stuffed hybrid, and made his panting go even faster. Her grip loosening slightly, Sandra began to slowly stroke the hard cock in her hand. Using just her fingertips to tease the head of the length, she worked up and down that shaft in short, slow strokes to edge John up. It worked wonders too, for it only took three strokes for the hybrid to move closer to the bars so that the witch could get a better grasp on the length. Having apparently become too fat to pleasure himself thanks to the sheer amount of weight which had found his arms and midsection, this practice was becoming increasingly common for the pair. Sandra didn’t mind the arrangement in the least though, as rewarding her captive made him even more complacent, and therefore more willing to engorge himself to the point where he was.
John didn’t mind it either, as he got to have his arousal taken care of; akin to a dog doing a trick for a treat. The faster Sandra stroked, the more the treat aspect filled John’s mind, his cracked brain taking what had been a subtle association between food and sex and turning it into something far more now that he was coated in the stuff, stuffed to the point of pain, and yet being pleasured by a hand which worked more magic than his own could ever dream of. His breaths got shorter, his cock stiffened nearly to the point of pain, and his stomach jostled slightly from the bucking of his own hips and Sandra’s hand bumping it on every stroke. It was an experience John had never truly had, and one which he relished now that he had completely given in. He wasn’t going to turn back from that, and as he began to leak pre onto the hand of the witch, he knew there was no way for him to do that.
A deep, roaring belch came from the confines of the cage. Creaking metal met that belch with a noise of its own, though that groan of stressed material was met with one of tortured John right back. Sitting, or rather laying, on his stomach in the middle of the cage, the hybrid had become massive. In the time since he had succumb to the feeding of the witch, his weight had utterly skyrocketed. Gone were his inhibitions, his fears of becoming too large, his worries of the mess he made, his self-consciousness about his looks and smells… He was an utter glutton now, and Sandra was beside herself with glee. She spent nearly every minute in the kitchen now, just watching her captive swell and bloat with more lard than most would ever see in their lives. His limbs were bordering on useless, and thanks to the confines of the cage he was in, he couldn’t adjust himself if he wanted to. He was stuck on his stomach, laying spread-eagle on the gravid mass that had become his torso. He was also rancid thanks to being coated in his own seed, gas, and food from the constant feedings that he now had. He hadn’t stopped eating in what felt like ages, for even when he wasn’t eating food from Sandra, she put a hose into his mouth so that he could eat while he was sleeping.
John couldn’t have been more content with his existence now that he had been dumbed down to a consuming simpleton. The barrage of food and sex which came daily broke him, his brain never thinking of escape or how he looked, just food now. It was a thing to watch, and it was something which he didn’t even begin to understand, but how could he? His last coherent thought had been one of lust for Sandra, and even that had been far behind his need for more food. The witch had him right where she wanted him, and as she stood in front of the cage with his third dinner, she had to smile to herself. What she had done few could manage, and John had been the perfect captive for her. It was as if he was bred to gain weight and be submissive, and yet she knew that was all thanks to her magic. Nothing more.
John’s eyes fluttered open, barely, as the fat of his cheeks made it hard for him to see over them. Flicker. He belched again, louder than before, and gave a weak smile as he opened his mouth for what he knew would be another meal. He never was awoken for anything else anymore, nor did he want to be since being awake was effort for him. His breaths always came shallow now, a wheezing, snorting combination of sorts between bites of food. He didn’t much care though, and instead glutted himself on the whole ham which was being presented to him. He took big, greedy bites into his maw, tearing through the skin and meat as though it were the last thing he would ever eat. This splattered his face with more sauce and grease, but he was so caked in it at that point that he didn’t even notice the extra layer of mess which now adorned his face. His chins were splattered with feasts past, down to his thigh-thick moobs which buoyed his arms up. Thick rivulets of sweat ran down those moobs from beneath his arms as he gorged on the bowl of potatoes, spittle and bits of food spilling down onto the topmost roll of his stomach. That first roll, alone weighing upwards of two hundred pounds, spread out for feet in either direction. The roll beneath it was almost double the size of that and spread between the bars of the cage, making them groan and shift whenever John tried to move. This wasn’t often, but the pressure of his flab was getting to be such that he didn’t have to move for the metal to complain.
That was all that John could see of himself in the mirror which Sandra had put in once he had been unable to hoist himself to his feet in the cage, and that was all John ever wanted to see as he cared far more about stuffing himself than what he had grown into as a result of his gluttony. As long as the food kept coming, he was fine with whatever had been happening to him. He could eat, he tolerated the occasional flickers in his eyes, and just enjoy the company of Sandra. He would eat, and eat, and eat until he burst the cage.
Sandra was just fine with making their VR date last that long too.