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Just a little bit more, Sly thought to himself as he snuck in through the rotunda into the vault. He paused a bit, looking at his surroundings, seeing the laser beams all over the floor, and thought to himself how to best get around them. It was easy, of course, for a thief like Sly, but he knew that he had to be swift. One wrong move, one second too late, or a singular loud noise, and the whole plot would go kaput. It was important that he didn't mess this up; his entire family heritage rested on this small book being recovered.

He heard Bentley through the radio in his earpiece, and heeded his words. Bentley would never let him down, and he always had a plan up his sleeves. His plan even came with a back-up plan, even if sometimes that back-up plan required a little more maneuvering than Sly would have liked. Sly Cooper pulled his act together after hearing Bentley on the radio, explaining how to maneuver the laser fields, and with skillful determination, he dodged between the laser grid with proficient expertise, bouncing left and right, all the way to the book on the pedestal at the back of the room.

It hadn't occurred to him initially that this whole operation had been too easy from the get-go. In fact, the only difficult part of this little heist had been the laser grid on the floor. There had been scant numbers of guards, only a couple minor security checkpoints, and he was sure he hadn't even seen a security camera the whole way through the building. Yet the alarm bell rang in his head as he reached out to grab the book, a treasured artifact that the Duke himself would pay gladly for if held for ransom. The alarm in his head told him something wasn't right.

Sly reached out anyways, grabbing the book, but as he did, he knew instantly he'd fallen into a trap. The book was holographic, empty space that his hand couldn't touch. He swiped his hand a few more times, disbelieving that he'd been duped, and then with an astonished look in his eyes, he let the truth sink in. It wasn't until the screen on the wall behind the book lit up that he knew what was going on.

"Sly Cooper, master thief." The figure said, to which the raccoon instantly knew who it was, "I knew I'd catch you snooping in my vault one of these days. I was expecting it."

"Carmelita!" Sly was taken by surprise. He'd have never thought in a million years she would be the mastermind behind capturing him, but it was true now. She had finally beaten him to the punch fair and square, and Sly had more than easily fallen into her clutches. Even still, her sultry look in her eyes suggested that maybe he could charm his way out of any real danger. "I'm surprised to see you, that's for sure."

"Don't worry about me, Sly." She replied with that seductive tone in her voice. Carmelita knew what she was getting into here, and she held up the book on the screen for Sly to see. The book that he'd been sent to steal, that is, "It's you who has to pay for your thievery."

"So Interpol is behind all this?" Sly asked with a bit of a smirk. At least he knew they'd catch him at some point, but he'd never expected it to be Carmelita who brought him in. "I guess that means the jig is up."

"You can't try to sweet talk your way out of this one, Sly. We're going to make sure you don't interfere with our investigations any further." She narrowed her gaze and opened the book, beginning to read an old Germanic text entry in the book. Sly felt suspiciously tingly all over, and his radio earpiece screamed for him to get out of there. He couldn't move, however, at least not until she had finished her incantation. "And now, the world's greatest thief will no longer ever be a burden to Interpol again."

For a moment, Sly didn't realize anything was wrong. He looked around, not seeing any guards. The laser grid had turned off, but the door behind him had also been left open. It was as if he had full freedom to leave the room any time he wished. "Well, at least not until next time!" he proclaimed as he made his way to the door. Only a few steps, however, had been taken before he realized that something was horribly wrong.

The floor groaned beneath his feet, and with each step he found the noises grew louder, the amount of energy required to take another step more exhausting, and soon before he knew it, he was looking down at a growing rotund mass in front of him. Sly needed a second or two to realize that the mass in front of him was _actually_his own body, and when he threw his paws out to feel it, perhaps even to hold it back, he realized instantly that there was no way he could do so. His tunic grew too tight on his body all too quickly, only managing to stay on for a little bit before bursting at the seams right off of him. His growing weight proved to be the least of his worries, however, as soon Sly felt the floor completely give way beneath his tremendously rounded size, and he plummeted to the floor below him.

Landing with a terrible thud that hurt less than he thought it would, Sly stumbled to get to his feet, finding it was nearly impossible lying on his back. He tried calling for Bentley, but down in this darkened room, his radio signal didn't work, and he gave up after a few tries. Panic set in as he tried his best to figure out the next course of action, finding that if he couldn't even get off the floor he would be stuck in the darkened room for a lot longer than he wanted. His swelling body felt soft, though rounded, and very warm with all the fat covering his body. In a way, it felt good. Sly's mind was racing as he tried to figure out what could possibly be good about being in this situation, but even as his mind raced, his paws idly groped his thickening mobs, already too large for one single paw to hold completely, and down over his massively round stomach. It really did feel good.

His idle paws rubbed over everything they could reach, and groped every fattening part of him that was thick enough to grab, but it wasn't over yet. Sly let out a distinct grumble from his stomach then, and felt like perhaps he was going to void himself, something a gentleman would never do even in these dire circumstances, but when it came out in a long, loud, crude fart, Sly had no choice but to admit that it felt relieving, and good. He even had to stifle a moan. Sly knew something bad was happening to him, but increasingly, his rational side was growing to love it. It felt freeing, just simply farting like that and not having to be a prim and proper gentleman all the time. When his stomach bubbled and churned again, he had no choice in the matter about that, he gladly expelled the gassy stench into the darkened room with a loud moan of pleasure.

There came a sound from in the darkness, and Sly struggled to lift his head, the cap that he'd been wearing askew over one eye from the fall, and tried to find the source of the sound in the darkness. "Who's there?" He called in a mix of panic and pleasure, punctuating his question with a gargantuan belching that probably could have lasted even longer if he hadn't been cut off.

"I didn't expect the spell to be so potent." Carmelita said in the dark, and Sly just knew she'd gotten the best of the greatest thief in the world finally. "But I see you are enjoying yourself in this new state, Sly Cooper."

"Carmelita, you have to help me!" His cry of help was punctuated with a wet, loud fart, and he only groaned the sentence following the first one, to which Carmelita could not hear him.

"The world's greatest thief, reduced to this slobby, gassy, immobilized blob before me." Her voice sounded distinctly celebratory, "And he's asking me for help."

"Please, you have to!" Sly let out a deep belch again, groping his moobs with pleasurable rewarding for the sound, and closed his eyes, "I can't stay like this!"

"Oh but you can," Carmelita said as she began to walk back out of the room. Even though Sly couldn't see her, he knew she was smiling. Secretly she'd wanted this more than Interpol, and her intentions were clear now, "I practiced that spell for hours, hoping you'd fall into my trap. And now that I have you where I want you, you can let justice prevail. Interpol will find Clockwerk, we will track him down ourselves. We don't need you getting in the way for that."

Sly struggled then, moving desperately to his feet, and he raised a paw, despite how heavy and tiring it was for him to move, and cried out between a terrible fart and a rumbling of his stomach signifying more was coming soon. She stopped moving, and Sly, desperate for help, panted a moment before calling after her, "I beg you, Carmelita! Please help me!"

She smiled to herself, and Carmelita turned around to face him across the room. In the dark, Sly couldn't see her, but she could see him. Her pleased face smiled to him, and calmly she replied, "The spell will wear off if you can successfully restrain yourself from giving in to these lewd instincts. But I warn you, Sly, if you make a mess of yourself down here at any point in the next hour, the spell becomes permanent."

Without hesitation or further debate, she left the room. Sly was all alone, farting and belching, groping himself, and realizing increasingly that he was horny. But he had to resist that temptation. He had to convince himself to simply lay there for an hour and hold back. If he could do that, then surely he would be okay.

The creeping sensations of him tugging on his thick raccoon balls and cock beneath the folds of his fat had already crept into his paws, and his fingers twitched with the instinctive need to do so. His dick throbbed and quivered in pulsing arousal. Sly wasn't even touching himself, and already it was obvious he was going to have to release soon. The pleasure was growing, and soon Sly realized it was because he was groping himself still, allowing the gas to pass freely. He was damning himself, even passively, and Sly knew he was losing the war internally.

But still, he steeled himself, tried to hang on. He forced his thick fists into grips at his side, struggled with sweat dripping down his brow and a musky scent forming in the air from his sweat, all in the chance he could resist. He held back a few more farts, even as his gut ballooned bigger from the gassy back-up, and Sly knew deep within himself the heart of a gentleman would still prevail.

Even as he still restrained himself, his clenched fists, his growing musky sweat, his body odors stinking up the darkened room he'd fallen into, all of these feelings grew harder to control. He felt that he was going to lose the fight, and part of him rationally thought that he'd rather damn himself than torture his own body for more than a few more seconds. His paws reaching steadily, if slowly, towards his groin, wanting that release, Sly let out a deep moan of pained anticipation.

Could he hold back? Could he subvert temptation and return to normal? Or would his fixation on the slobbish, darkened desires zero in quickly and conquer him? His mind raced as he held the restraint as much as he could, and he desperately dove into thinking he would win, even as his paw raced steadily closer to the sweet spot.

"You can do it, Sly." He muttered to himself, though at this point, he wasn't sure if he was talking about resistance or giving into temptation.

"I'm going to do it. I'll get exactly what I want. I'm Sly Cooper, I always get what I want."