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Gym Partners - Part 3 (Patreon Commission+ for ShrapnelTheWolf)
🕑 Added 2022-08-12 15:38:35 +0000 UTCTAGS: F/M, Hyper, Growth/Expansion, Hyper Growth, Cramped
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That was for after the destruction was over though; there was still plenty of time left before the two of them were even remotely ready to call it a day, as evidenced by the fact that the gym was falling apart around them. Frost didn’t quite understand how or why she wasn’t hurting; by all means, her having a literal building collapse onto her should’ve at least smarted, and she was stretched out over the cock responsible for it! It should’ve been painful, even with her body being as stretchy as it was, but not only was it not, there was no sign of damage on her either.
At least, not the parts that she could actually see. It was hard to tell whether or not the rest of her was as unblemished as the fraction she had visual access to, but given how the overriding sensation in her head was pleasure, the snep could only assume she was fine. She and Shrapnel both, judging from the noises coming out of his throat; they had transcended physicality, become something greater, and now the world could do nothing to stop them.
On the other hand, it was entirely possible that they were just horny, and even though their bodies were definitely being knocked around, they just couldn’t feel it anymore. Not as fun as assuming that whatever transformation had left her that malleable had also turned her into an indestructible cocksleeve though, that was for certain; not as fun as believing herself to be nothing short of an endless source of stimulation for Shrapnel, her Shrapnel, that she’d been turned into something for him to use and abuse until he couldn’t feel his lower body anymore.
Shrapnel, meanwhile, was far ahead of Frost in that regard, in that he couldn’t “feel” anything at all; hard to feel whatever it might be when his conscious mind had long-since vacated the vicinity, leaving behind nothing but a monstrous, ravenous beast who wanted nothing more than to fuck, to mate, to rut, but not to finish. Finishing meant that he’d have to stop, and stopping was not something this Shrapnel wanted to do; in fact, if they could find a way to keep going until there was nothing left but himself and his mate wrapped around him, they would take it in a heartbeat.
Alas, there would come an inevitable conclusion to that foray into excess, no matter how much he may not want it. It might take him so long to get there that he’d forget when the whole thing started, but he would get there… which meant, of course, he had to put as much effort into prolonging the inevitable as he could, seeing as there was no other way of maximising how much pleasure he could get out of it.
No thoughts were spared for Frost herself; much like the snow leopard no longer cared about her well-being when placed next to Shrapnel’s enjoyment, so too did Shrapnel not have the ability to care about her as anything other than a cocksleeve, something to be worn for his amusement and further self-indulgence. His old self still cared, but thankfully that one had been buried beneath so many layers of animalistic desire that the odds of him ever surfacing were as close to nil as could be.
Thus, the only time Shrapnel truly “cared” about Frost was whenever he felt a particularly strong growth spurt, and his mind wandered off for a few moments to wonder whether or not the snep was still hanging in there, or whether she’d finally popped off from him. He couldn’t blame her if the latter happened; there was so much spunk flooding into her that it was a legitimate surprise that she was still there! Every load coming out of him did so with such intensity that it was nothing short of a miracle that Frost still clung on, was still wrapped around his shaft.
Anyone looking from the outside would not see a snow leopard, nor even a facsimile of one stretched to accommodate for a dick larger than most buildings were. Rather, they would see exactly what Frost had become: a condom, and a stuffed one as well. Granted, the colour of it was quite off from the usual, and it was impressive how much it could hold before rupturing, but that wasn’t a living being that had been turned into a reservoir of cum. It couldn’t be, because living things didn’t grow that much.
Except Frost did. And she’d grow even more, if it meant she could give Shrapnel what he wanted. She’d turn herself into nothing but a living tank of his seed, designed for nothing but hold it inside of her for future stuffing, if that meant the wolf would give her more of himself. And to think, none of it was his actual cum; she was as big as the gym, or would be if she bothered to look at herself, she was bigger than the gym, she was outside of it as the structure was blown apart from the inside out, she was looming over the street, she was flattening cars and intruding on the road… and Shrapnel still hadn’t cum.
Were she to look back, there yet remained one thing that could shock her back to reality, something that meant enough that even she, in her absurdly horned-up state, would be terrified to see. It was an awesome sight, in the literal sense of that word, and gazing upon it was, indeed, the bane of many who were close enough by to do so, and ended up having their legs hijacked to bring them closer: Shrapnel’s nuts.
His dick was enormous, that much was a given, enough so that, even without his precum, just the rod along would’ve easily brought the house down and flattened most of the parking lot outside. But said rod was only the means through which the wolf was going to empty himself; the real meat of it, the real heart of the matter, were the two hyperproductive cum factories he still had attached to him.
To try and describe them would be to not do them justice, since, by the time one was done detailing what size they were, they’d already be so much bigger as to make the description obsolete. The best one could do was try and pass on the sense of it, the feeling of being close to two orbs of such mass that they felt like black holes, attracting everything around them with their ludicrous density. The best one could do was try and give an impression of the cacophony of gurgling and churning that emanated from them, as they rolled over the parking lot outside the gym, the road access, the apartment blocks on the other side, then kept going as if the buildings they were barrelling through were made of wet paper.
It was clear, to anyone that bothered to give it more than a second’s look, that Shrapnel was desperate for release. His nuts were slorshing aggressively, two giant beasts demanding to have their load pumped out of them; they weren’t meant to hold so much cum, creaking and groaning as every inch gained was done so at great cost to the wolf’s barely-extant sanity. Every inch was a step closer to his mind breaking, and yet, he couldn't do anything about it; he was no longer in control, his primal lizard brain was, and it didn’t want to cum, ever.
It wanted to experience the pleasure of denial in perpetuity. It wanted to be on the edge as a permanent state of affairs, even if it meant causing growth on a literally catastrophic scale. It wasn’t going to allow for a climax, because that meant things would have to end, and ending it all was not at all something that Shrapnel’s inner self wanted to do. In fact, why even slow it down?
He was already big enough that he’d broken free of the gym! He’d already gotten rid of the first obstacle to his perpetual growth spurt, and not only had Frost not backed off from it, she was gladly following along! Didn’t matter that she literally had no choice in the matter, she wasn’t complaining, and thus, neither would he; just as long as those moans kept coming, then this version of Shrapnel couldn’t care less.
As for Frost herself… there was a point where maybe she would’ve considered her tits to be too much. Six of them now, each one so large that a single bust would’ve been enough to fall onto her lap; really, under any other set of circumstances, she absolutely would’ve thought of them as utterly gigantic, and definitely considered a reduction. She wouldn’t have gotten one, but at least she’d pretend to think about it.
Now though? Now it felt almost quaint to think of anything about herself as large. All around her, spread in every direction, was herself: she was no longer stretched taut over a cock, but her whole form had been inflated, swollen, filled, stuffed with so much precum that it more resembled a vast, wobbly balloon than anything else. The snep couldn’t even see where the curvature began and ended either; at one point, she knew her belly “dropped off”, so to speak, a horizon of herself, but she couldn’t see it. It was just fur, as far as she could care to look at, just herself.
And growing. Still growing. Still filling, with every pump and load, with every heartbeat. She might have lost track of that cock inside of her, what with it having stuffed her to the point where it was less stretching her out and more swimming in an ocean of pre, but it was still there, and ever more productive. The bigger Shrapnel became, the more cum he made, that was just how things worked; and the more cum he made, the more pre was pumped out in preparation, thus making her be larger in an ever-escalating cycle.
Maybe she wouldn’t ever be filled with actual spunk. A dreadful thought to have, but, given what she already had, not nearly as horrible as it could be; she could definitely get used to being transformed into a permanent geographic fixture, a landmark for other people to point at and navigate by. She could absolutely get used to the idea of becoming an immobile cum dumpster, even if it technically wasn’t cum she was filled with… but, she still would like to feel what it was like to be given the proper stuff.
It was only fair. She’d allowed Shrapnel to stay, back in a shower room that no longer existed, so it only made sense that she be given her prize. Harder to put into practice though; it took until she felt something touching her paws for Frost to truly grasp what had to be done in order to force the issue.
She didn’t know when Shrapnel’s balls had filled so much that they not only grew around the wolf himself, but got close enough to her that she could actually touch them. Her hands didn’t yet reach their taut surface, but her paws did, and as soon as they made contact with the red-hot, rippling skin stretched over an unimaginable quantity of cum, she knew what she had to do. It was pure insanity, and likely to bite her in the ass, but… it had to happen.
After everything, after the gym, after the parking lot, after the multiple residential areas, after throwing away everything that made her her, after accepting that her face was to be nothing more than a cum blimp for that wonderful mate of hers, it had to happen. Dangerous? Yes, and she couldn’t deny it. But it had to happen. So she pulled her legs up, storing whatever power she still had in them.
And she kicked.
