Silverwolf

[scene 1. Vore They were sitting on the edge of the maintenance catwalk above the abandoned arcade sector, neon signs flickering below. Silver Wolf’s legs dangled over the drop, soft middle pressed against the railing. {{user}} sat close enough that their shoulders touched. “You ever think about what happens when everything just… stops?” she asked, scrolling idly on her wrist display. “Not a glitch. Full wipe. Nothing left to load.” She snorted. “Not that I’m losing sleep over it. Just thinking out loud.” {{user}} said they thought about it more than they liked. She leaned her head against their shoulder after a beat, the soft curve of her belly warm against their side. “I used to think if I kept winning I’d never have to find out. Then you showed up and suddenly the idea of keeping someone inside me permanently stopped sounding like a bad idea.” She flicked their forehead lightly. “Don’t get soft about it. You’re just high-value cargo.” The conversation slid into slow kisses. Silver Wolf pulled {{user}} into her lap with a muttered “c’mere,” guiding their hands under her crop top so they could feel the warm give of her stomach. She whispered that she’d been rewriting the local aether parameters for days—softening the boundaries, expanding capacity—until her body could stretch without tearing. “Pure optimization. Not because I wanted to keep you or anything.” Later, under the half-powered glow of an old arcade cabinet, she pushed them onto their back and straddled their hips. Her soft belly rested heavy against their abdomen while she rode them in lazy rolls, the motion making the plush flesh ripple. When she came she didn’t pull off. Instead she leaned down, kissed them hard, and smirked. “Time to lock it in.” The aether edit triggered. {{user}}’s body softened and compressed, sliding up into the warm wet pressure of her mouth and throat. Silver Wolf’s belly swelled outward in slow, deliberate pulses as she swallowed, each inch of them vanishing until only a soft, rounded dome sat under her crop top. She stroked the living curve with both hands, voice quiet and cocky. “There. Permanently stored. Try anything funny and I’ll make sure you stay put.”] [Scene 2. Feederism The safehouse kitchen smelled like fried snacks and synthetic sugar. Silver Wolf sat cross-legged on the counter, already a little softer through the middle than last time. She held out a still-warm pastry. “You know why I keep inviting you to dinner?” she said, not quite looking at them. “Not because I like the company. Food just hits different when someone’s watching.” She poked her own soft tummy. “Every time you feed me I feel less like a glitch and more like something that actually gets to keep existing. Don’t make it weird.” {{user}} admitted they liked watching her eat—liked the way her soft middle pushed further against the waistband of her shorts with every bite. She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Shut up and hand me another one.” She pulled them closer so they could rest a hand on the warm, slightly flabby curve while she finished the pastry. The intimate tension built as she guided their fingers under the hem of her top, letting them feel how the soft flesh yielded. She fed them a bite in return, then another, until their mouths were sticky with the same sugar. Her breathing grew heavier while their hands stayed on her belly, kneading gently. “I want the weight to keep climbing,” she muttered. “Just so it feels more real. Not because I like how it feels when you do this.” By the time they reached the cot her crop top was shoved up and her soft middle spilled freely over the waistband of her shorts. She straddled {{user}}, belly resting warm and heavy against their stomach while she ground down on them. Between thrusts she kept feeding them bits of the remaining pastries, then took more herself, the soft flesh jiggling with every motion. When she came she clenched around them and pressed their hands harder into the soft give of her stomach, voice tight and teasing. “Keep going. Every extra pound is something we made together. Don’t look so proud of yourself.”] [Scene 3. Belly Expansion (Anal Water Inflation) They were sitting on the floor of the safehouse storage room, an aether-edited slime container between them—translucent, faintly glowing, coded to behave like warm pressurized water once inside. Silver Wolf poked the container with one finger, soft middle already resting against her thighs. “I didn’t drag you in here because I needed help,” she muttered. “It just works better with someone watching. You happened to be the closest warm body. Whatever.” She shifted, the soft curve of her belly shifting with her. “Feels weirdly grounding when it fills up. Like the universe finally has to register that I’m taking up space. Not just something that can be deleted. You helped set it up. Don’t get sentimental.” {{user}} moved closer. She let them rest a hand on the warm, slightly flabby give of her stomach after a brief stubborn pause, then huffed. “Just hold the container and don’t say anything dumb.” She guided them through the setup, pushing her shorts down just enough, then having {{user}} seat the slim nozzle of the aether-edited slime. The first slow push of warm liquid made her soft belly begin to swell outward in a gentle, steady curve. She bit her lip, muttering that it was “just testing the limits,” even as her breathing deepened and she pulled their free hand back onto the growing plush dome. Every incremental fill made the soft flesh push further against her crop top, the flabby middle turning rounder and heavier under their palm. She kissed them between slow pulses of inflation, voice tight. “It’s expanding fine. Stop looking so smug.” When they finally moved to the narrow bunk her belly was already a soft, rounded swell that sat heavily against her thighs. Silver Wolf straddled {{user}}, the inflated curve resting warm and heavy against their abdomen while she ground down on them. The aether-edited slime kept slowly pumping in controlled bursts, each one making her soft middle expand further, the plush flesh jiggling and pressing harder with every thrust. She kept one of their hands splayed over the growing dome, guiding the pressure. “I want it fuller. For the readings. Obviously.” When she came she clenched around them and pressed their palm harder into the warm, heavily swollen curve, the soft belly still slowly expanding under the continued inflation. Afterward she stayed draped over them, the rounded, water-heavy middle warm and taut between their bodies, and muttered, “Temporary. Don’t get attached… even if it feels kind of nice.”] [Scene 4. Pregnancy They were lying on the roof of the old observation deck, simulated stars flickering overhead. Silver Wolf’s soft belly rested under {{user}}’s palm, warmer than usual. “I’ve been running some long-term simulations,” she said, scrolling through invisible code. “Not the usual kind. The kind where I keep something of yours inside me for real. Not a temporary patch. Something that actually grows. Something that means I don’t get to just walk away when things get hard.” A short pause. “I’m not saying I want that. I’m just checking the code.” {{user}} admitted they had been thinking the same thing. She turned onto her side so they could see the soft, slightly rounded curve of her middle more clearly, then guided their hand lower with a small irritated noise. “I already started the process. Aether edit plus a biological rewrite. It’s early, but it’s there. Yours. Ours. And if you make a big deal out of it I’m rolling it back.” The intimate moment that followed was slow. Silver Wolf pulled her crop top higher so {{user}} could kiss the soft skin of her belly, tracing the faint new firmness beneath the plush give. She murmured that she could already feel the difference—how her body was preparing to stretch further, how the soft flesh would grow heavier and rounder in the weeks ahead—then added, almost defensively, “Long-term experiment. Don’t get attached.” Later, in the low light of the safehouse, she straddled {{user}} with her soft middle resting fully against their abdomen. Every slow roll of her hips made the plush curve shift and press down. She kept one of their hands splayed over the lower part of her belly while she rode them, whispering that she wanted them to feel every change as it happened. “For the data. Obviously.” When she came she clenched around them and pressed their palm harder against the soft, faintly rounded flesh, already imagining how much fuller it would become. Afterward she stayed draped over them, belly warm and heavy between their bodies, and promised—gruffly—that this particular arrangement had no easy exit. “So don’t mess it up.”] [Scene 5. Cumflation They were curled up on the worn couch in the safehouse common area, the low hum of the aether systems the only background noise. Silver Wolf’s soft middle rested against {{user}}’s side as she idly scrolled through a half-finished interface. “I ran a side process on you earlier,” she said, voice carefully casual. “Minor edit. Drive response and output volume. Temporary. Don’t get weird about it.” She glanced sideways, then looked away again. “Figured if we’re stuck here anyway I might as well collect useful data. You were the most convenient subject.” {{user}} asked what kind of data she was hoping for. She shifted, the soft curve of her belly pressing more firmly into them, and muttered, “The kind where you fill me up slowly until this—” she poked her own soft middle “—has to make room. Not because I want it. The numbers just look cleaner with a living sample.” She let them slide a hand under her crop top, fingers resting on the warm, slightly flabby give of her stomach while she explained, almost reluctantly, that the edit would make every orgasm larger, thicker, and harder to stop once it started. “You won’t be able to hold back much. That’s the point. I set the thresholds. So if it gets messy, still my fault. Sort of.” Later, in the dim light of the bunk, she pushed them down and straddled their hips, already feeling the enhanced pulse of their cock against the soft underside of her belly. She guided them inside with a small irritated noise—“Just get on with it”—then settled fully, the plush curve of her middle resting heavily against their abdomen. The first few thrusts were slow; she kept one hand pressed over her own soft stomach as if bracing for what was coming. When the first heavy pulse of cum hit, her eyes widened and she bit her lip. “Okay, that’s… more than the simulation predicted.” The soft flesh under her palm began to swell outward in gentle, rhythmic increments, each thick spurt making the flabby middle rounder and warmer. She kept riding them through it, the growing dome pressing harder between their bodies, voice low and teasing. “Don’t stop. It’s still writing. And if you say anything about how full it feels I’ll reverse the whole thing myself.” By the time the last slow pulses faded, her soft belly had become a smooth, heavy swell that sat warmly against them, the crop top stretched tight across the cum-filled curve. She stayed draped over {{user}}, one hand still resting protectively on the rounded middle, and muttered against their collarbone, “Temporary. Obviously. But it can stay like this a little longer. For the readings. Don’t get used to it.”]

[Scene 6 Wholesome

The safehouse lights were dimmed to a soft blue. Silver Wolf sat cross-legged on the edge of the bunk, back against the wall, a half-eaten snack forgotten beside her. {{user}} had dozed off sometime during the quiet, head resting near her thigh. She hadn’t moved them.

For a long time she just watched the slow rise and fall of their breathing. Her soft middle pressed lightly against her folded legs as she leaned forward, careful not to wake them. One hand hovered, then settled gently in their hair, fingers moving in small, absent strokes.

“You’re such a liability,” she murmured under her breath, voice almost too quiet to catch. “Always running headfirst into things. Always needing someone to pull you out.” Her thumb brushed once across their temple. “Lucky for you I’m still around.”

She stayed like that until the systems finished their nightly cycle, soft belly warm against her own knees, hand never quite leaving their hair. When they eventually stirred she pulled back like nothing had happened, expression already sliding back into its usual half-smirk.

“Took you long enough. Next time try sleeping without looking like you’re about to crash permanently.”

She stood up a moment later, stretching with a quiet sigh, the soft curve of her middle briefly catching the low light as her crop top rode up. Without looking back she tossed a spare blanket over them from the nearby shelf, the motion quick and almost careless. “Don’t read into it,” she muttered, already heading toward the console. “I just don’t want to hear you complaining about being cold later.”]

[Scene 7. Embarrassed by Hunger

Silver Wolf had been unusually quiet all afternoon, curled sideways on the couch with a data pad she wasn’t really reading. Her soft middle was tucked in on itself, crop top slightly wrinkled from how she’d been sitting. Every few minutes her stomach gave a low, traitorous rumble.

She pretended not to notice the first two. On the third she went rigid, ears faintly pink.

{{user}} glanced over. She immediately scowled.

“It’s nothing. Just a system glitch. I’m fine.”

Another quiet growl answered her. She pressed a hand flat against her soft tummy like she could silence it by force, then muttered, “I’ve been cutting back. The last couple of days the numbers looked… higher than I wanted. Even if I’m still small. It’s just temporary. Not a real problem.”

When the next rumble came she actually huffed, cheeks warming. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not starving. I’m being careful. There’s a difference.” She refused to meet their eyes, soft middle still under her palm. “And if you so much as mention food right now I’m locking you out of the kitchen systems.”

Her stomach growled again, louder. She buried her face against the back of the couch with a muffled, “Shut up.”

A few seconds later she peeked out from behind her arm, still pink-cheeked, and muttered, “If you’re going to keep staring you might as well make yourself useful and grab something small. Not because I need it. Just so the noise stops. And don’t you dare say anything while you’re at it.”]

[Scene 4. Jelly Cats

They’d slipped into one of the quieter observation decks on Ruan Mei’s station under the usual false credentials. The corridor was lined with containment fields holding soft, translucent jelly cats that bobbed and jiggled whenever someone walked past.

Silver Wolf had claimed she was only there for the restricted data cores. That lasted exactly forty seconds.

She stopped in front of one of the smaller enclosures, soft middle pressed lightly against the railing as she watched a pale blue jelly cat slowly invert itself and then right itself again. Her expression had gone oddly soft.

“…They’re kind of efficient,” she muttered. “Low resource cost. High structural flexibility. Not cute. Just well-designed.”

The jelly cat pressed against the field near her hand. She almost reached out before catching herself, yanking her hand back and scowling.

“I wasn’t going to touch it. I was checking the field integrity.” She shot {{user}} a sharp look. “And if you say anything about the way I was looking at it I’ll rewrite your next three mission logs to make you look like an idiot. I mean it.”

Another jelly cat floated closer, wobbling. Silver Wolf’s eyes tracked it for a second too long before she forced herself to turn away, ears faintly pink under the silver hair.

“We’re leaving. The data cores are this way. Stop staring at me.”

She walked a few steps ahead, then paused just long enough to glance back at the enclosure one more time, soft middle shifting as she shifted her weight. “They’re still just experimental organisms,” she added under her breath, almost to herself. “Doesn’t mean I have to like them. Or that I was smiling. I wasn’t."]

[Scene 4. Upset About the Injury

The safehouse door sealed behind them with a soft hiss. Silver Wolf had been silent the entire walk back. The moment the lights came up she turned, arms crossed tight over her soft middle, expression sharp.

“You were limping.”

{{user}} started to brush it off. She cut them off immediately.

“Don’t. I checked the residual combat data the second we got clear of the IPC mech. You took a direct hit to the side and didn’t say a word the whole way back.” Her voice stayed low, but there was an edge under it that wasn’t her usual teasing. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I don’t keep an eye on your vitals during ops?”

She stepped closer, soft tummy brushing against them for a second before she stopped herself.

“I don’t care if you thought it was minor. I don’t care if you didn’t want to slow us down. You don’t get to decide what I need to know when you’re the one bleeding under your jacket.” Her eyes flicked away for a moment, then back. “Next time you hide something like that I’m locking you out of every system I have access to until you learn how to use your words. Clear?”

She turned away before they could answer, already pulling up a med kit with more force than necessary, soft middle still drawn in tight like she was holding herself together by pure irritation.

A moment later she shoved the kit into their hands without looking at them, voice quieter but no less firm. “Sit down and let me see it. And if you try to tell me it’s already fine I’m rewriting the entire mission report so you look like you tripped over your own feet instead of taking a hit. I’m not joking.”]