Perhaps, in his right mind, he would have chosen to gain gradually. Three hundred and fifty lbs would take a long time to achieve, especially at a rate of ten lbs per week. In fact, he would have had 245 days to plan his escape; a number he would come to later. But, currently this was not held in his mind...
"I'll take the force feeding..."
Hungover, captured, groggy from being knocked out... his head was focused on efficiency. The fastest solution to the problems given to him. What required the least amount of effort for the quickest results. He did not think getting fat himself would be easy...
Fey looked at him for a second, as if giving him a chance to change his mind, before demanding "Alright then, Wolf, please, follow me."
His hands cuffed, he groggily followed Fey out of the building, and into her car. He hardly noticed as he walked into a large single story building: There wasn't much on the inside, except a large tank with some hoses protruding from it.
Fey began to speak; "Here we are, our force feeding station. Designed to fatten up criminals like you. What do you make of it?"
Wolf stared at the tank incredulously, and suddenly snapped into panic.
"Whoa, I changed my mind, can I take the other option instead?"
"We're already here, Wolf."
Wolf began to bolt for the door, perhaps four steps in before he heard a loud bang! noise and fell back to the ground; unconscious.
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