Capacity Test

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“New animal detected. Scanning,” called out an electronic, monotone voice. The voice snapped Ian back to consciousness, making him yawn and stretch out as a red light passed over him. The brown bear had been drinking a little too much the night before with his friends out on their farm, and as a result, he didn’t quite want to open his eyes just yet; he could still feel a little bit of the booze flowing through his system. What did get him to open his eyes though was a pair of metallic claws wrapping around his limbs. That got his attention to snap him awake fully, and to get a light yelp out of his short muzzle. The chubby ursine was not one for being grabbed, so when he felt all of his limbs, at once, being taken and restrained, he was more than a little startled. His eyes bolting open, the red light again passed over him, blinding him for just a moment as it went over his eyes. He had no idea just where he was or what was happening, but a quick look around once the stars had left his eyes put him inside the barn… Somewhere. He didn’t know how he wound up in there, but a look at a bottle off to the side of where he was restrained gave him a few clues. He also was still restrained, and he wanted that to stop immediately.

“Unidentified species, searching…” The voice called out, rather loudly, just above Ian’s head. The ursine began to squirm, but the bonds held him down tightly to the table he must have passed out on. Thrashing and yelling did nothing though, he knew his friends were in the house after that night of drinking. He didn’t remember much else about the night, but something about where he was felt familiar to him. He must have had this explained to him… But he couldn’t recall it. The yelling was echoing off the walls of the barn too, drawing the ire of the night of drinking and giving him a headache after just a few moments of shouting. The bear stopped once the headache got a bit too much for him, shutting his eyes and just letting his brain try to rest and figure out what on Earth was happening to him. He pulled at the restraints again, feebly, but felt no give whatsoever. At least the table he was on had padding on it, though that padding felt somewhat itchy, and a quick glance to one side showed it had both feathers and fur on it… The fur looked shockingly like wool though. Something was up, and as he looked around again once he felt brave enough to open his eyes, the ursine could feel his brain starting to come out of its drunken stupor.

“Species found. Ursine. Commencing capacity test.”

“Capacity… Test?” Ian inquired, but he didn’t have time to get much else out as a hose rapidly snaked down and right into his agape muzzle. He didn’t try and resist until he could feel it inside his jaws, snaking down his throat and making him gag. He squirmed and turned his head, but the hose stayed right with him and didn’t budge, working its way down into him and right on into his stomach after a few more moments. It was a startling sensation for him, but one that he could do nothing about as his arms and legs refused to budge even an inch from their bindings. His head didn’t take long to get locked into place as well, as another metallic tendril snaked up from underneath him on the diabolical table and wrapped around his head, trapping him looking straight up and still. Immobilized by the five metal limbs from the table, Ian was forced to just sit and whimper as he was incapable of doing anything else to protect himself. Prone as he was, he was forced to just look up at the sensor above him, as well as the few others he could see of in his peripheral. There were more of these machines of sorts, or were they all one? Try as he might, he couldn’t remember a single thing, but instead all that he could do was resist. He tried gagging on the hose again, forcing it up, but as it made the last couple inches trek fully down into his stomach, that seemed to be a futile effort.

“Probe inserted, Capacity Test initiated,” Called the robotic voice. It was so monotone it almost felt sinister to Ian, but there was again nothing that he could do. He squirmed to no avail, swallowed and whimpered with no signs that any of his efforts were working… That was, until he felt the hose jolt. It was a subtle jolt, but it was enough for him to notice it in the couple moments before he felt his stomach begin to expand with air. It was an odd sensation, one that he had never even begin to suspect from the contraption. However, as air flooded into his middle, he could feel himself bloating up with nothingness. His stomach swelled out rather rapidly, bloating up worse than any beer, soda, or gas had left him and even going so far as to stretch his loose shirt. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant though, as that tightness spread across his frame and made him blush faintly from the tickle it gave across his whole torso. The tightness continued to grow though, going from pleasurable to uncomfortable in just a matter of moments. Uncomfortable ebbed into pain soon after, and it wasn’t long before the whimpering resumed from the bear. The stretched feeling was spreading to his pelt from his stomach, pushing him further and further towards a feeling that he was ready to burst. His shirt was stretched taut now, the seams creaking as the light hiss of air around the hose in his muzzle began to grow louder thanks to the building pressure at the base of its insertion. His skin aflame with stretched pain, his stomach feeling like a balloon about to burst, and his whole body tingling lightly thanks to all of that, Ian just shut his eyes tightly and waited for the machine to pop him like a balloon.

There was no bang though. Instead, the hissing stopped just shy of that, leaving Ian as bloated and full as was physically possible for his body. He figured that a capacity test would have been a little less aggressive, but… He had gotten no such luck, and as a result, he was just groaning and whimpering as he felt his whole body ache from the influx of air into his gut. A small chime rang out as the inflation stopped, the hose staying in him but beginning to work in reverse as it sucked the air out of him again. Ian was so thankful for that feeling that he nearly forgot for a moment just where he was and what was happening to him. He would take any feeling over that bloated feeling again, and yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspected that he was going to get that feeling again. In the interim though, he was quite content to just lay as he was and let his body shrink back down to some sense of normalcy. The creaking seams on his shirt loosened, the thinned fur on his stomach began to pull back to normal, and it wasn’t long before Ian was left feeling only moderately bloated rather than fit to burst. He was immensely grateful for that, but as he reveled in the aftermath of nearly bursting, the whir of a compressor shot his eyes open and drained all of the color from his face.

“Capacity not optimal. Stretching protocol engaged.”

Ian groaned as he heard those words, as he had put two and two together right around that point. The hiss of air flooding back into him made the ursine whimper anew, but he knew that it was only the beginning. Shutting his eyes and just letting the painful stretching start all over again in spite of his best efforts, the bear had finally figured out what was happening to him, and he dreaded it. He had fallen asleep, somehow, in the barn on one of the new feeding machines which his friends had gotten to speed up their farming process. It was a mechanical marvel, this machine, and yet apparently it still had a few bugs to work out. The machine, which was doing its job amazingly well might Ian add, was designed to take livestock and fatten them up to their biggest sizes as efficiently as possible. It only took an hour or so as far as he could remember, and left them just barely mobile, if mobile at all. He had seen a few of the pieces of its handiwork the previous night, but as with everything from that night before, he knew it was fuzzy at best. What he could remember though was a bulging mound of a cow, it’s legs just barely able to brush the ground if it rocked from side to side. It was a massive pile of lard, quaking with every breath that left it’s barrel and wobbling with each moo that it could muster. Hooked up to a feed barrel that refilled automatically, it was being milked nigh constantly thanks to just how much food it was able to turn into milk. The bovine had been nothing short of a blob that was there to be used for food, and if Ian was thinking about this right… He was about to be next on the list of blobs on the fat farm which his friends ran. Knowing full well that the machine was uncaring and that his friends were passed out still from the night of heavy drinking prior, Ian could do little but resign himself to his fate right then and there. He wanted to resist still, to put up some sort of a fight, but he knew that it would go nowhere; he was trapped. Stuck inflating and deflating until the machine decided that it had had enough of him, and decided to pack him full of untold calories until he was left a jiggling mass of his former self. Thankfully, his friends at least had a pickup truck, as the ursine figured that would be the only way he would be leaving the farm once all was said and done.

Inflate, deflate, inflate, deflate… It was a cycle for Ian that led to only a few moments of pleasure in each cycle. He could feel his gut swell to sizes which left him beached and then deflate down to a fleshy, stretched, and overworked mass every time the hose filled him, and with every filling he could feel just that much more air going into him. His shirt had torn to pieces after the third time of being inflated, bursting off him rather than just tearing and fluttering down all around the room. He could still feel the outline of the remaining fabric under him, and yet he could feel himself eclipsing that outline more and more as the minutes dragged on. His pants had also burst off, though it was less of an explosion than his shirt and more just the waistband tearing at the seams. His legs and arms were positively diminutive in the face of his stomach as he was continually blown up and left to deflate by the machine, looking like sticks off the side of a beachball when he was fully blown up by the tenth time he was treated like a balloon. It was a mind-numbing experience for Ian, who was left hurting after every single time, in spite of his hopes that the hose and inflations would just let his stomach go numb from all of the abuse. No though, he was forced to contend with the pain of being nearly bursting every single time, each one a little larger and longer than the last. He could feel his fur thinning at the apex of his bulging middle every time, spreading further out as he was putting inches on his pelt in minutes rather than the years it would normally take for an average fur to reach such outrageous sizes. He just groaned though, unable to stop himself from doing so as he was inflated for the umpteenth time; he was tired of being treated like a balloon, and yet here he as being used just as such over, and over, and over again. It was not a sensation he would have wanted in the least, and yet it kept on going.

“Capacity increase completed, beginning fattening regiment.”

Ian went even more pale as those words rang out, the hose having just fully deflated him for the first time in several minutes. He could feel the loose flesh dangling off his middle as well as the sheer emptiness of his stomach. In spite of his best efforts, his gut did indeed roar with a need for food as it had grown well over double in size thanks to the machine. He was starving, and as the food began to be pumped into him at the same rate which he had been inflated, Ian could do nothing but moan contently at that need being satiated. Of course, when looking at the circumstances even in passing, it gave away just why he was so embarrassed and disheartened to be content to be eating, but that didn’t seem to matter to the bear. Instead of wanting freedom, he wanted to eat until that empty feeling was gone. Just sighing and resigning himself to a fattened fate, the ursine let the hose pump him full of food. Pump it did too, flooding his stomach with a slurry of oats and butter and other heavy, fattening foods that he knew were meant more for farm animals than a bear like him. Thankfully he had no allergies, or else he was going to be in a world of hurt once the fattening was done… At least that was a minute silver lining for him while he guzzled down more and more of the slop.

His stomach did little at first, filling up and out just like he was eating. It settled and sloshed noisily as it was filled up with food to the point that it was no longer empty. Ian knew there was a whole lot to go though, and as such he just groaned once that heavy feeling began to take over. He could practically feel the pounds filling him as his stomach got heavier and heavier, spilling over the waist of his burst pants and spreading wider on the table than the air had ever let him spread. He felt like a balloon being filled with water now, and was spreading just like one to boot. Wider and wider he got, spreading in all directions as his gut just filled with more and more of the slurry. It was heavy too, weighing down on his lungs as his overfilled stomach pressed down on his torso as well as making his legs feel like jelly as the weight of his gut pressed down on them too. The tight feeling wasn’t coming though, and if Ian had been able to see himself, he would have seen that by now just in food alone he was well past fat and into full-blown obese territory just on food and food alone. It was a startling change for Ian, and he could do nothing about it whatsoever from his prone position. He couldn’t sit up or move is he wanted to as the hose began to slow down on its pumping. Still though, the arms of the machine gave him not an inch of movement, even as the sheer density and amount of food that was being pushed into him was making the bear feel sleepy. His eyelids grew heavy, just as the rest of him, as he could feel his gut pulse and jiggle with every ragged breath that came out of his nose. With those breaths, he just barely was able to get himself enough air, so he was exhausted and panting and stuffed and… Ian had no words for what he felt. He just wanted to be at home, in his bed, under a blanket that wasn’t made of oats and cremes; namely his gut.

The tightness came soon after, and while it wasn’t as pervasive as when he was being inflated, it did get right up to the same painful feeling before the machine stopped. Ian was panting hard at that point, huffing and gurgling around the hose as he felt every single inch of himself filled with food. Even his toes felt full, in spite of the fact that no food had made its way down into them. He could barely move his arms, nor his legs, nor any part of him; even his head just felt too heavy to move. Instead, Ian was left beached and groaning atop the table. The machine didn’t seem quite done though, as the hose didn’t retract into itself just yet. Instead, it seemed to jiggle itself slightly in his muzzle, and for a moment Ian wasn’t sure just what was going on. He was more awake mentally than he had been at the beginning of the bizarre morning though, and it didn’t take him long to figure out just what needed to happen; he was still in Stage 1 of the machine…

“Commencing conversion of food to fat. Stand clear.”

The machine jolted as a shock ran through the hose and into the food, and in an instant Ian could feel his body making short work of the outrageously large meal. Digesting at a rate which made his head spin and his whole body tense up with shock, Ian felt his stomach deflate as the rest of him inflated, and fast. His limbs bloated out with fat at an alarming rate, swelling from just lightly soft to doughy to lard-soaked appendages in moments. His chest grew a pair of perky moobs that quickly flattened and then just sagged as they were turned into more lardy pancakes than anything else. Rolls of blubber formed on his sides, his paws bulged out wide, and his digits all turned into small sausages sticking out from meaty appendages. It was a sight to see, and one which Ian wasn’t privy to as his cheeks bloated out to nearly block out his vision of everything below his muzzle. His ears even felt fatter as untold calories were spread throughout his system and made the bear a blubbersome version of himself. It was shocking to him, and yet as the initial explosion of fat ebbed into something a bit more manageable, Ian couldn’t help but to flush at the feeling of all of that weight and warmth spreading across him. He could feel his elbows bending over themselves with wings of fat, his knees being buried in a joint that would never work again, and even his ankle fat rolling over the top of his feet. He couldn’t even fathom his newfound weight, and yet strangely he didn’t want to… No, instead, he wanted to savor it as he just let loose a low, contented rumble.

Somewhere in there, the binding had come free, and Ian could feel his appendages sag down into the sea of fat which they were now encased in. Groping and kneading at what he could reach of his outrageously obese brown pelt, the bear just gurgled and groaned around the hose that was still stuck down his throat. That said, it was already retracting, pulling back and leaving him simply content rather than full to bursting. He could feel the food still digesting though, and knew it wouldn’t be long before he was hungry again… Well, starving rather with how much of the swollen blob of stomach that pinned him in place had stretched over the session on the table. Of course, he didn’t see much of an issue with that; his friends would be awake soon, he hoped, and he would be able to get them to help him up and get him awa-

“Unidentified species, scanning…”

“Oh no…”

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