A Growing Miracle (Patreon)

Freddy has been given a new assignment in the Shadow Decree, working on a mysterious new miracle- he can't fathom why, but it's far from the hardest assignment he's ever had. Enjoy!

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When the Shadow Decree gave Freddy his new orders, he thought at first it was a joke. Why was he, of all the agents working for the Decree, being put on research duty? The wolf wasn't just any fighter— he was the best looking, the strongest, the best fighter in the Decree's arsenal, at least by his reckoning. Let the nerds in the lab study the miracles the Decree was obsessed with— he was supposed to be out there fighting the people trying to take the miracles away from the Decree. So why take him away from his greatest strength, and his adoring fans, and place him on research duty?

The wolf grumbled darkly to himself, still bitter over the assignment. Amongst the researchers, he stuck out like a sore thumb. All these poindexters, with their stupid, non-sun glasses and white jackets, were so lame compared to his magnificent self— Freddy was proud of his ripped and muscular body, his glossy wintry fur, and his superior sense of style, complete with his sunglasses and sleeveless jacket. He smirked toothily when he turned heads, nudging one particularly small researcher who couldn't quite take his eyes off of Freddy's thickly roped, bulging arms and his sculpted, meaty chest.

Finally, though, he spotted a familiar face. A tall and lean canine figure, dressed in a sharp suit. "Sander! Hey! Set!"

One of the Decree's Commanders, Sander turned to face Freddy. "Fenrir." Set nodded curtly. "We don't see you down here in research very often. What's the problem, looking for a new pair of sunglasses?"

"No, some bonehead further up the chain thought it'd be funny to put me on research duty."

Sander frowned. "Well, that doesn't make any sense. You've got the academic acumen that wouldn't fill a thimble. Why would anyone want you on research duty?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Freddy said, far too involved in his passing reflection to take offense. "So, help me out? Pull some strings?"

Sander nodded. "Perhaps I can do something. What were you assigned to, exactly?"

"Some new miracle, the Plenty?"

"The Ple—" Sander cut himself off, chuckling softly, but then he laughed harder and harder, smacking Freddy on the back. "Oh, the Plenty? You know what, Freddy— I'm afraid I can't do anything. I daren't. Don't worry about it, it will be an easy assignment. Enjoyable, even." He patted Freddy again. "Well, enjoyable for me, anyways."

"Wha-?"

Freddy's broad shoulders slumped as Set walked off, still chuckling to himself. "Well, what the fuck does that mean?" the wolf snarled.

He stomped his way to the testing room, an aseptic white space with a desk, computer, and a few chairs. He heard the door click, locking behind him— standard procedure, but his ears still flicked. Sitting on the desk was a strange stone box, intricately carved, and glowing with a faint magical power; it had to be the miracle.

Freddy groaned loudly as he settled into his chair and logged into the computer, checking the file with his instructions. He frowned. The previous testing trial was almost entirely blacked out, which was not encouraging. He began reading to himself. "Begin recording… open box… consume resources until empty?" Freddy lifted his sunglasses, reading the instructions again. "Consume resources until empty…" he glanced at the box. "This thing makes food?"

The wolf settled in, and turned on the mic. "Okay, uh… agent Freddy Fenrir recording, working on 'The Plenty' miracle… trial one."

He opened the box, taking a look inside, and frowned. There was a stale, plain piece of bread. He took it out and chewed, tearing into the bread roughly. "Ugh… stale bread, box empty. So… am I done, here?"

He took a second look in the box, and arched his brow. The box had been empty a second before, and now it contained a biscuit. "...Huh. Well, I guess it'd be a pretty crappy miracle if it had only a scrap of bread on offer."

He took a bite of the biscuit— it was dry, but better than the bread. "Okay… one dry biscuit. I don't suppose I can get anything with some taste?"

The wolf leaned over, peeking into the box again, spotting a flaky croissant. "...Huh. Okay." He picked up the croissant and bit into it, humming to the pleasant, buttery taste. "Can I ask for… whatever? Like, I dunno… some pie?"

The glowing lines along the box intensified when he spoke. Freddy opened it up, and grinned as he spotted a thick slice of apple pie. He gingerly picked it up and took a bite out of it, his ears flicking at the sweet taste.

"Ooh. Apple pie… very nice."

Freddy grunted softly, patting his middle. He had eaten lunch not so long ago, and was already feeling a bit full… but his curiosity was starting to eat at him. He had to see what else the box could make. "Alright, miracle… What about some cake?" The wolf chuckled as he looked inside to see a thick slice of chocolate cake. "Well, maybe this won't be so bad after all."

"Order twelve, berry cobbler, tart and flaky…"

"Order twenty five, cinnamon bun, little too sticky."

"Order fifty seven… jelly donuts… half a dozen of them. Really tasty."

"Order ninety eight… jelly donuts with strawberry frosting… so good."

"Urph… order… one hundred sixty nine… one more jelly donut, just… to test it out."

Freddy was huffing softly, feeling as if he was ready to burst. He had lost track of how long he had even been testing the miracle. The intoxicatingly sweet taste of the pastries— especially the donuts— that he kept manifesting from the miracle was keeping him in a sugar-fuelled daze. After so many tests, he needed to take a break. He never thought eating sweets and pastries would be so much work. He lifted his heavy arm to adjust his glasses, groaning and feeling… lethargic. He frowned at that, shifting his weight and starting to feel that there was a lot more weight to shift.

The wolf gasped, leaping to his feet with shock— and causing a good deal of wobbling that felt extremely strange on him. He was still clutching a sinfully rich donut in his chubby hand, and finally saw the sheer enormity of what the miracle had done to him. Every part of his toned, rock-hard musculature was wrapped in thick reams of doughy flesh; his massive belly filled his lap and then some, the heavy layers of fat spilling out of his shirt and smothering his lower half, which was no small feat— his legs alone were thick around as beer kegs, fraying and splitting the seams of his jeans alongside his flabby rear that was overflowing the seat.

"What… What the hell?" Freddy rumbled, multiple chins and round cheeks wobbling as he spoke, his fingers pressing and cupping the plush mass of his pillowy chest.

"Oh God…" he muttered, trying to put the donut down, but finding himself unwilling to do so. His hand shook as he tried to drop it, and in a flash of instinct, he shoved it into his hungry maw, and found himself already looking back to the crate.

"This… is a problem," he grunted, already reaching for the next donut created by the miracle. "I'm gonna kill Sanders… but first…" He reached for his communication device. "I'm gonna need some help finishing this off."