Today's my birthday! And what better way of celebrating my birthday than to become fat on a cute pred's belly? This awesome picture was gifted to me by  Dergum. A spectacular story goes along with this one, which you can find below, the author of which is  Mahlzeit, also a gift!
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With a grunt of exertion, Mr. Wolf pulled the lever, and the driver’s seat lurched backwards. He squeezed his paw against his suit, flattened the squirming gut hidden beneath, and hobbled into his car. He wiggled into his leather seat, his belly sloshing with each shift.

Once he got comfortable, Wolf slammed the door shut and unbuttoned his suit. As the last button flicked open, his belly swelled out, freed from its cramped prison. The meal within used the newfound room to thrash, rippling his fluffy hide as his sagging gut bounced against the wheel.

Wolf leaned back in his seat and groaned. He kneaded his fingers between the shifting outlines of his meal. “Lively one, ain’t ya?” He patted what he assumed to be the creature’s head. “What did you say you were? Kobold? Eh, doesn’t matter. You’ll be wolf soon.”

Muffled shouts and weakened kicks broke through the walls of his gut. Wolf thrust up, flicking his hips off the seat. His belly hovered for a moment, then hurtled back down and slammed against his lap with a gunky splash.

“Sorry, kid.” Wolf stroked two dull bulges, his meal’s useless horns. “Can’t have any witnesses on this one. You know the drill, nothing personal, yadda yadda.”

He stretched his seat belt across his gut. Once it clicked in, the strap tightened and squeezed into his meal’s face. The kobold whined and twisted. A futile effort, for Wolf clenched his gut in response, and the seat belt lurched tighter around his softening meal.

“Come on now,” Wolf said, groping the kobold’s head. “Behave yourself. I’ve got another job on the far side of the city, so I need you gone by then.” A sudden kick near his crotch made him grit his teeth. “Then again… maybe I’ll take the long way. So take your time.”

Wolf spread his legs, letting his gut sink lower into the seat. The kobold squirmed, and the bulging outlines of his tail and legs stretched the gut’s lower half, claiming the newly freed space.

Wolf leaned back, growling a throaty sigh; the motions of his meal felt heavenly. “Yeah, definitely take your time…”

He fished his keys from his pants pocket — shoving the kobold’s hips to get his overhanging gut out of the way — and turned on the ignition. The engine roared. The interior rumbled. And his gut gurgled, the juices within stirred by trembles of its own. With great difficulty, he reached for the wheel, squishing his gut between it and his knees. More shouting, but Wolf was too busy groaning to hear it.

“I now see why Snake loves this sort of thing. I’d tell you to get comfy, but, you know, good luck with that.” Wolf pulled the handbrake down and stepped on the gas. His car skidded onto the street, tires squealing as he took off over the hill.

Wolf couldn’t pay much attention to his belly while driving. He occasionally rubbed the kobold’s head, even as it gradually lost definition. Whenever he hit a red light, he found the most prominent bulge — an arm, a leg, the tail — and shoved it deeper into his gut. His meal’s whimpering grew sloppier as the drive went on, and the intensifying churns and gurgles of his gut drowned them out soon enough. Each sudden turn summoned a splatter; his stomach’s contents — kobold and liquid alike — rolled to the other side of the gut when he drifted. Wanting to help his belly along, Wolf took faster and sharper turns, all to drench the kobold from head to tail in digestive juices.

By the time Wolf reached his destination, the witness that once thrashed in his gut was no longer solid enough to move. Wolf pulled the handbrake up. He unclicked his belt and leaned back, admiring the now-smooth dome resting atop his lap. He massaged his hands across his potbelly — less than half its former size — and kneaded away any remaining lumps. The ambience of simmering soup filled his car; his stomach was still hard at work dissolving every last scrap of kobold.

“Damn, kid. Guess those scales were just for show. You melted faster than an ice cream sandwich on the sidewalk.” Wolf jabbed his fingers into his paunch. The malleable hide smooshed in, and a wet slosh oozed out.

Wolf braced both hands beneath the overhang of his heavy potbelly and lifted it from his lap. He squeezed the underside and swung his gut left and right. The liquid contents splashed about within, his fur shuddering as sludgy waves crashed against the stomach walls.

“To think, all that slop used to be a lizard. Or kobold, whatever.” Wolf let his potbelly fall. As his gut slammed into his lap, a violent sputter rippled through the hide. Juices bubbled as the molten kobold swirled over and into himself.

Wolf chuckled, waiting for the liquid in his belly to settle. “Alright, let’s make this official, kid. Time to pack you in.”

He cracked his fingers and groped both sides of his gut. In time with a growl, he squeezed hard, folding his gut into a tight ball. His arms trembled as he forced more and more pressure, compressing that former kobold into a compact — discreet — mound. Bubbles — wet and gunky, like boiling sludge — oozed from his hide, popping as the space dwindled. Wolf spread his jaws and let loose a deep—

BOOouRUURrrrlch!

—drenching the dashboard in thick slobber.

And with that, he let his belly go. It rolled out, distended, wobbling above his lap. The mush within sloshed out, claiming the added space. By the time the liquid tide settled, Wolf’s gut had slimmed another few inches. He still sported an obvious potbelly, but a manageable potbelly.

“Oh yeah, you ain’t coming back from that.” With a croaky sigh and lap of his snout, he rubbed the top of his dome. Beneath the fur, the tightening walls of his cauldron worked over the remains of his meal — twisting, kneading, heating, stirring the kobold stew — ready to drain that nutrient-rich muck like it would any other meal.

Satisfied with the compacted size of his gut, Wolf re-buttoned his suit jacket. The fabric stretched around his waist, dented by one very full belly. Still, the lump wouldn’t draw too much attention; if anyone asked, he had a large lunch. That wasn’t even a lie.

“It’s been fun, kid,” Wolf said, opening the car door. “But I’ve got another job to take care of. Be a doll and pad out my waist, would ya?”

GrrRROuRRUururRrrgrrn…

“Attaboy.” He slammed the door shut and patted his chubby midsection. “And don’t you worry; I’ll keep you a secret.”

Wolf got to work. As promised, the poorly fitted suit didn’t garner more than a second glance. With nothing more than a subdued churn and a constant rumble, the stomach slowly pumped away every last drop of the kobold. That sweltering chamber left not even a single scale behind. The snug suit kept the belly well-hidden as it worked, and as the day rolled on, the unassuming lump in the fabric shrunk away into nothing.