Giantess Growth Stories

Two years ago, as a graduate of Werewolf Medical School, I volunteered to go to the most remote and poorest pack, as it had always been my dream to help werewolf patients in need. I heard from my teacher that the werewolves in the Rogue Pack were the poorest and that their living conditions were the worst. Most of the werewolves there were old and weak, so I volunteered to go to that pack as soon as I graduated. After I arrived, I helped them build an infirmary and even set up a blood station. Every year, I led them in voluntary blood donations. But one time—right after I had taken a short break following a blood donation—they turned on me. They slandered me, calling me a selfish and heartless healer. Worse still, they accused me of faking illness, claiming I was lying comfortably in bed while patients were dying—refusing to lift a finger to save them. Not only that, they stormed into the infirmary, seized all my herbs and equipment, and completely trashed the place I had built for them with my own hands. Recalling the days I had spent day and night healing them—only to see my infirmary destroyed and my dream shattered—I let out a bitter smile. I picked up the phone and called the dean of my home pack. "I'm ready to return," I said. "I want to serve the patients in our own pack." Then, without a trace of regret, I left that place behind. However, after I gave up, the whole pack regretted it and begged me to return.

When my husband Joshua dragged his student Linda Moore into our apartment, I didn't even blink—I gave up the bed. Last time, it'd been pouring when he showed up with her in the middle of the night. Told me to crash on the floor with my daughter Mia and gave Linda the bed like it was nothing. I lost it. Fought with him, snapped at her. She bolted, slipped into a ditch, and supposedly drowned. Joshua said nothing. Then, one night, with the storm going wild outside, he pried open a manhole and dumped me and Mia in like trash. "Linda's my mentor's daughter. She's dead—how am I supposed to face him? You two can apologize yourselves." We didn't even get to scream before that freezing, disgusting water swallowed us whole. Turns out, Linda faked the whole thing. Just a twisted joke to punish me. Joshua moved her in right after, like nothing happened. Now, thunder cracked again as the door opened—and there he was, Linda right behind him.

My husband was out cold. Middle of the night, his phone lit up on the nightstand—chat app blowing up. I leaned over and grabbed it, quiet as a breath. Messages from someone named 'Viv.' Her last one? [Goodnight, Matt.] I had my fingerprint saved, but I'd never used it. Six years of trust. Six years of believing he was loyal—maybe too awkward to cheat. But something felt off. So I tapped in. And just like that, I opened Pandora's box. My heart? Tanked.

My mom had a sudden heart attack, and the medical bills were piling up faster than I could breathe. I was desperate, so I turned to my rich boyfriend, hoping he could help, or at least offer some kind of solution. But instead of the support I expected, he unleashed a tirade that hit harder than anything I'd ever heard. "So this is why you're with me? Just for my money? You're no different from those other women throwing themselves at me. You're all the same—pathetic and shameless!" Before I could even react, he shoved me out the door. Later, when he finally understood the full story, he handed me a bank card, no questions asked. "Candice," he said quietly, his tone almost remorseful. "The password is your birthday." I didn't say a word. I just let the card drop onto the floor and walked away without looking back.

My husband sponsored a poor female college student. While I was being dragged into an alley by a criminal, he was helping her pick out lingerie. While I was hospitalized with serious injuries, he used the money my mother left me to buy her a limited-edition handbag. I confronted him in a heated argument, but he accused me of being unreasonable. "I thought your injuries were so serious, but look—you didn’t even die! Besides, your money is my money. I’ll spend it however I want!"

My entrepreneur boyfriend and I had been living in a tiny rental, eating bread every day. Then one day, I saw his name on the Young Entrepreneurs List. Not only was he the CEO of my company's biggest competitor, but he was also worth over 100 million.

When I ran into my ex-husband again, he had just been appointed the new hospital director. In the past, manipulated by my so-called best friend, he misunderstood my sincerity again and again. Because of that woman, he eventually walked out of our marriage. As the vice director, I managed to keep things strictly professional around him, right up until the end of the workday. That evening, the head nurse brought some news. "Dr. Holloway, the Municipal Medical Association is hosting a networking banquet tonight. Leaders from all the major hospitals will be attending." The nurses immediately began discussing whether they could go. Just as I was about to agree, he appeared in the doorway without warning. "Dr. Holloway, you can't go. You're staying tonight to handle the hospital restructuring plan." In full view of everyone, he summoned me into the director's office. Seated behind his desk, he said with an icy gaze, "Everyone else can go. You must stay. If I find out you show up at that banquet tonight, be prepared to deal with the consequences."

Philip was rescued from rogue wolves by Nick, who died protecting him. After that, Philip took in Nick's mate, Laila, and their pup, Ray, took care of them like they were his own. For the sake of Laila and Ray, he kept asking me to compromise—again and again. Philip left me alone on our wedding anniversary to celebrate Ray's birthday. He gave Ray my Marking ring to play with, like it was a toy. Even at the annual family gathering, he insisted on bringing them along. The final straw came when he asked me to give something up—again. He wanted me to switch my first-class cruise ship ticket with Laila's economy seat. I felt exhausted. I was done. I was ready to walk away from this five-year marriage.

I accidentally stumbled upon numerous explicit videos on my husband's computer while tidying up his desk. The videos showed him in bed with my unmarried best friend. The relationship between my husband and me had been platonic ever since I gave birth 40 years ago. His reason was that he was no longer capable of physical intimacy. Now, it felt like my entire life had been a sham, despite all my efforts for my family.

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.