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The Blue Bronco (Patreon Commission for MephistonOwl)
🕑 Added 2022-08-02 17:40:16 +0000 UTCTAGS: Hyper, Growth/Expansion, Excessive Cum, Fantasy Scenario
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Putting everything back where it was supposed to be took so much longer than the two of them expected that, by the time they were done, they had forgotten why exactly they started it… at least until they sat down and spent more than a few seconds doing nothing, after which they had to start all over again. It was just what they did.
Sorana and Baha didn’t quite understand how or why their bodies became what they did; to a certain degree, it was entirely pointless to try and figure it out, seeing as neither of them were nearly well-versed enough in advanced physics to explain away what could only be described as a divine ascension. All they knew was that, after their unfortunate little growth episode, they woke up an indeterminate amount of time later, somehow overlooking what they figured was the universe.
After the initial shock wore off, it became extra evident that their endless climax had done a number on that poor thing: ruptured, warped, disfigured even, what the cosmos needed were a couple of helping hands to mend it and make it all better, even if the divine couple had to take some liberties with a few of the details they weren’t entirely knowledgeable on. Really, it was trial-and-error after certain point, and it wouldn’t be once nor twice that they had to scrap entire chunks of the universe because they screwed up a constant or two.
In the end though, it was still there, and they reset it back to before Baha ever joined with the mining company in the first place. Interfering with the timeline like that wasn’t something they did without some level of trepidation, but they both agreed that it was better if everything that happened didn’t, even if it risked causing a temporal paradox strong enough to wipe them clean from existence. Still, it didn’t, so maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe.
In the meantime, and very much taking advantage of the fact that they were still alive, both Baha and Sorana agreed that they should never bring their true selves “down there”: not only were they much too large to fit, but they also risked ripping reality apart with the amount of power they wielded. Thankfully, they had a perfectly serviceable alternative: the use of carefully constructed avatars in which to place their conscious minds.
That way, they could once again interact with their old universe without having to worry (too much) about breaking things. Granted, there was still the risk of them accidentally setting off another chain reaction that would lead to the two of them once more flooding the universe in spunk and cream, but for that, both Sorana and Baha agreed that the best thing to do would be to have their avatars not live together.
Wasn’t that much of a sacrifice: their real bodies were still as close to one another as they could be in the outer reaches of not-space where dimensions and distance didn’t exist. By comparison, them living down the street from one another in the “real” universe hardly even registered with them; plus, it gave way to the possibility of little romantic escapades, stolen away from the universe on the sly, an idea that left the two of them far too giddy for their own good.
It was during one of these furtive meetings that Baha, having been working on a small side project in his free time, chose to reveal the fruits of his labour to Sorana. It was unorthodox, and definitely out of his comfort zone when it came to exposing himself, but at the same time, the two of them were, in truth, intimately linked in a far deeper manner, so why be scared? It was the novelty, perhaps; even if Baha kept himself at a somewhat reduced size compared to what he ended up being prior to his ascension, he still dreamt big. Still wanted big.
Sorana, in sharp contrast, had to squeeze herself through a double-wide door just to barely fit in the corridor. Having a much finer control over both herself and reality in general, the bear realised she could afford to make herself be gargantuan and not have to worry about meltdowns; thus, her walking down the street made for such a distraction that cars had to stop just to avoid swerving onto the sidewalk.
Hence, when she sat down on Baha’s couch, said couch ceased to be in short order; now she was the couch, as she very much liked to remind him, patting her own lap and giving the horse a look that highlighted her expertly fluttering eyelashes. For his part, said horse was more than happy to sink into the warm, soft embrace, only that time around he was carrying a stack of papers on him, ones he gripped with enough force to nearly rip through them.
“Whatcha got there?”
“Oh, just… “ - there were a great many things he could say there, not many of which would leave him feeling like he wasn’t a child caught stealing cookies from the jar under the cover of night - “... something I’ve been working on for a bit. You know, a uh… c-concept, proof of concept, that sort of thing. I was thinking mayb-”
The pages were out of his hands before Baha even noticed he hadn’t finished his sentence. His spine froze, the many possibilities flashing before him: would Sorana like his idea? Would she mock him for how infantile it was? Would she offer scathing criticism over his art skills, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he had had no room for him in the world of artistic creation?
Certainly not anything positive, that much was for certain. Why did he even call her over? Why did he think, even in his wildest dreams, that Sorana would even be remotely interested in something as dumb and stupid and juvenile as himself in the form of a superhero of all things? He should’ve just burned those pages the moment he had the chance; no good could come of them!
“I like it!” - or maybe Sorana would dump all over his impostor syndrome with as much care as she had for doors - “But uh, I’m gonna need some context here.”
In that moment, there were two competing lines of thought inside Baha. On one side, the same one that had been fighting against the idea of ever sharing the Blue Bronco with anyone, convinced that it would result in nothing but misery; on the other, the half of him that was activated by the slightest amount of interest in his work, who wanted nothing more than to infodump all the worldbuilding he’d thought of in a massive nerdgasm that would no doubt only make Sorana regret asking for clarification.
Was it ever a competition?
What followed were ten minutes of Baha going on an uncharacteristically energetic rant on his latest creation: Blue Bronco, the heroic crime fighter who used his unique and absolutely not inspired on himself powers to take down wrongdoers wherever they may be! Equipped with a package the size of the rest of him and enough spunk production to fill multiple industrial vats with just one release, his main method for detaining criminals was ingeniously simple: whip it out, smack them around once, then plaster them onto the nearest flat surface with enough cum that it would be impossible to be freed from it!
He even had the first issue storyboarded out: during a quiet day, a group of ninjas attacked Central City’s First City Bank, barricading the entrances and demanding all the contents of the vault! This, of course, was no match for the Blue Bronco, who heroically crashed through the front door and valiantly defeated all of the ninjas before grabbing his mighty pillar and making sure th-
“Ok, ok, stop,” Sorana cut through, barely able to hold back her giggling; Baha reacted by shrinking away, almost peeling himself from the bear’s lap, only to be held firm by one of his lover’s hands, “honey, I know you think this is all very fun, but you just made yourself in superhero form and the best you can think of are a bunch of ninjas robbing a bank?”
The answer was yes, but somehow, Baha figured he really shouldn’t say that. It felt like he was being directly asked whether or not this was the best he could do, rather than just whatever idea came to mind; defensiveness was quick to come, and the horse had to remind himself that this was Sorana he was dealing with, not a random critic… easy to say, but it still took him a while to say anything, at which point the bear took over again.
“Personally, I don’t think the Blue Bronco should be wasting time with something as mundane as bank robbers or ninjas or whatever else is out there. No, no, what you need here, sweetheart? What you need is a supervillain, someone on par with the Blue Bronco’s power, someone who can actually give him a run for his money! Every good superhero has a supervillain archnemesis, you know this!”
She was right, it was a fundamental aspect of that genre. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
“O-ok, so, uhm, what do you sug-”
“What about, oh, I know!” Sorana immediately blurted out, far quicker than someone who just thought about it would , “Well, the Blue Bronco defeats evildoers by gluing them to the walls with his spunk, right?” - Baha nodded, wanting to know where this was going - “Well, if the supervillain is his direct opposite, and if the Bronco has a dick big enough to smash steel, then, obviously, his supervillain should have massive tits. Like, big enough to crush him!”
Were Baha any more perceptive, he would’ve picked up on what was actually being offered there. Instead, his mind veered instantly towards the tropes at play, and for once in his life, whether or not he, as the creator of something, could sacrifice his artistic vision for the sake of cheap symmetry. Once again, it was not a contest: the idea of a fat-tittied mega-villain in tight spandex was too much for him to say no to.
“Plus, these should be full, right?” Sorana kept going, one hand conspicuously moving under one of her own gargantuan breasts, making the cream inside slorsh about menacingly, “The Bronco’s stuffed at all the time, so it makes sense for his arch-nemesis to have the same problem. Oh, and she should definitely be spraying milk wherever she goes, that’s totally her thing!” - Baha at no point stopped to ask why this was a she, or why she had a thing, or anything else for that matter; he was just barely starting to understand what was actually being said there - “Oh, and I figure, maybe fill out the rest of her as well? You know, make it balanced out.”
“But the Blue Bronco isn’t… well, actually… huh, now that you mention it, yeah, I think that makes sense” - a small blush appeared on Baha’s face as he recalled how many muscles he drew onto his superhero self - “but what about species though? I made the Blue Bronco a horse because we’re strong and powerful and never give up! Wouldn’t the opposite be-”
“Oh, honey, please, we both know you drew yourself and then threw more muscles on top,” Sorana once again interrupted, dragging even more red onto her lover’s cheeks before she moved in to console him with a kiss, “and that’s why I love you, little one. Now, I feel that, if we want to make this thematic? Surely the Blue Bronco’s arch-nemesis should be the exact opposite of him: if he’s buff, she should be rounded-out instead, yeah? Full of curves and more curves, so many that you could get lost in them.”
Sorana chose to punctuate this by moving her hands about her body, highlighting her own exaggerated form. Hard not to notice it: not only was the bear about three times Baha’s already considerable size, but her proportions were so ridiculous that it strained the universe’s ability to maintain her. Bodies weren’t meant to be like that, not without extensive surgical augmentations or external structural additions, neither of which Sorana had given herself; rather, a fully “natural” self, with the size of someone who’d gone under the knife and into the gene vats a dozen or more times.
“Do you know anyone who might fit that description, Baha sweetheart?” - with the tone of voice being used, even Baha couldn’t miss the point anymore; he wasn’t so much blushing as his cheeks were radiating heat like a well-fueled machine, his words stuck in his throat as he watched the ursine he sat on grow even larger - “Someone like a certain bear, maybe? I feel like this supervillain would do well as a bear, don’t you?”
Of course she should be. Why, what else would they be? What else if not a bear, the perfect representation of everything the Blue Bronco was not, yet the absolute best fit for this shadow archetype? What else if not a bear, given what the Bronco was even meant to be? Why, if Sorana had suggested anything else, Baha might’ve had a genuine heart attack at the sheer incredulity he’d experience; thank heavens at least she had a level head on her shoulders.
“In fact, why don’t we go a little deeper?” Sorana added, sounding oddly enthusiastic for a fleeting moment. She snapped her fingers, and almost immediately after the scene around them began to melt away, like ink under water, “I think we need to figure out some essentials, like her lair; every good villain needs a lair, don’t they? So why don’t we make one that can fit our milky bear, hmm? I’m thinking…”
Sorana trailed off, her eyes glazing over for a second or two before their surroundings solidified again. They were no longer in Baha’s living room; rather, they were inside a white, featureless cube, an empty space waiting to be filled with… anything, really. The two of them had resorted to this method several times before: whenever they were undecided over how best to occupy a volume of space, they’d just make a room the same size and go wild before applying it to the real world.
“I think we need to see how these things look. Now, first things first: big bear, big milkers, lots of dairy, right? So I’m thinking she needs to have a villainous throne, so whenever she’s not out doing evil, she’s sitting there, lounging around, telling her minions what to do, yaknow, that sort of thing!” - Sorana carried on instantly, not giving Baha even an instant to interject - “And while she’s on this throne? Milking pumps!”
The bear stopped talking, looking down at Baha. The expression on her face was unmistakable; all of a sudden, the horse felt as if he’d had a dozen spotlights shone on him, and he knew, in that very moment, that a single wrong word would bring the whole mood crashing down harder than an arcology collapsing.
So, he said nothing! Better to keep quiet and let Sorana have her fun rather than try and be witty and just end up wrecking the whole thing; besides, while the both of them were perfectly capable of reality alteration on a scale most mortals wouldn’t even begin to comprehend, it was the bear who displayed a greater aptitude between them… mostly because Baha didn’t trust himself not to screw up, hence he didn’t try to push the line nearly as much as his lover did.
Sorana though, she didn’t particularly care whether or not her changes were welcomed by the universe at large, or if what she was doing would end up destabilising things so much that the couple would have to remake it all over again. What mattered, at least to her, at least in that exact moment, was to reform Baha’s place into something best befitting a lair for this idealised supervillainess version of herself, and if that meant literally reshaping it from the ground up, then that was simply necessary.
Besides, it was so much fun to play the role of the antagonist for once. Ever since she manifested herself into version two of reality, Sorana had gone to great lengths to ensure nothing like the first calamity took place again; unfortunately, this mostly took the form of her deliberately avoiding doing anything fun, since the slightest mishap between her and Baha risked causing another growth cascade that wouldn’t do any good to their free time.
So for her to be able to spread her wings and fly towards the sun, burning away her old self to reveal the self-indulgent little nerd that never got to truly be in between her obligations and later relationship with that stud? To truly indulge in the role of a lunatic supervillain whose main motivations were sketchy at best, downright moronic and insane at the most realistic? To be able to say things that would never fly in any respectable publication?
Now that, that was what Sorana truly wanted.
“I think, we should splurge out a bit,” she mused aloud to no one in particular, “it’s not like we have to pay for any of this, right? So why not give myself a proper throne, something that I can sit on instead of just crushing underneath me? I feel like I’ve earned that much, don’t you, my sweet little Baha?”
The horse wanted to reply, but he knew better than to do so. Whenever Sorana got into one of these moods, it was best to just let her get it out of her system instead of participating; plus, he was there, so if she wanted to do anything to or with him, all he had to do was not do anything! The ursine giantess was oddly ok with the idea of her little plaything being passive throughout; she might tell him to move faster or go deeper or any number of other commands, but her taking charge was never in question
Plus, even he could tell that Sorana was enjoying herself in this new self-assigned “role” of her, especially once she got up to admire her handiwork and the inevitable growth began. It was a fact of life, that whenever the bear got excited enough, her body would follow suit; Baha had a hard time telling whether this was a deliberate choice on Sorana’s part, or if her physiology had become so warped that it simply grew on its own whenever she was horny enough.
Whatever the case, what had already been a gargantuan pair of milkers grew heavier still as their creamy contents were multiplied, their production beginning in earnest with the low, rumbling churn of ocean currents. Along the rest of her, curves were magnified and proportions further exaggerated, with Sorana not only growing a few extra feet in height, but several more in width as her form was further augmented.
For Baha, it felt as if he were being shot with a shrinking ray, as not only did his lover get bigger, his surroundings did as well: just as Sorana improved upon herself, so too did she modify the reconstructed apartment to better fit her idea of what this supervillainess’ lair would look like; not just that, but her clothes had been changed to something that could only be described as a latex affront to fashion and good taste, complete with the domino mask covering absolutely nothing of importance.
Not only that, however. While he was too distracted to notice them, the changes wrought to him were no less impressive. It had been decided some time prior that Sorana was permitted to warp and later the horse’s body at will, provided she did so within certain bounds; giving him more dick and balls, though, that was entirely permissible, even more so when it came packaged with additional musculature to round it all out. Since, ultimately, what was a superhero without a supervillain, and what was a supervillain without a superhero?
The Blue Bronco must be made to live and breathe in the real world just as much as it did in the pages they were drawn in, and with Baha there to serve as a perfect mould, a seed upon which to grow this idea, how could Sorana resist? Plus, it gave her an opportunity to loom over him, to cackle like a lunatic before swapping it over to a haughty, noblewoman’s laugh, her very posture making it clear that the tiny little horse beneath her was literally beneath her.
“So you see now, Blue Bronco,” Sorana spoke, her voice slightly more high-pitched than before, yet filling the room even more, “I have you now in my clutches! How foolish you were to step into my lair, knowing full well you could not resist the allure of my milky wiles! Surely you don’t think you can ever hope to stand up to me, the great Madame Cream!”
Madame Cream. He wanted to laugh. He desperately, desperately wanted to laugh, just to get it out of his system, before he did so at a far more inopportune moment. But he couldn’t, because for all that it was deliberately designed to be silly, Sorana was serious about that roleplay of hers, and Baha wasn’t yet so callous and uncaring that he’d rain on her parade like that. So he swallowed his giggles, cleared his throat, and put on his best hero voice, which amounted to deliberately speaking an octave lower than usual and adding some bassy thoom to every word.
“You shall see, Madame Cream, that your wiles are no match for the Blue Bronco’s endless stamina! I shall see you bent over my knee and begging for mercy before the day is out, just you watch!”
Another cackling laugh, once again changed at the last second to make it slightly less deranged and far more uptight, to… marginal success. Sorana stepped forward, her inherently larger size making it clear that, if she wanted to, she could easily smother Baha into submission; instead, she threw her weight around in a much more literal fashion: by swinging her chest from one side to another, the horse received front-row tickets to the sight of the bear’s bust flying towards him, smashing into his flank with enough strength that he was literally projected back several feet, embedding into a wall!
Of course, even this wasn’t enough to get the Blue Bronco to give up fighting! He was made of tougher stuff, and he’d been blown clean through multiple walls in the past; it wasn’t going to be a single tittyslam that knocked the wind out of him… though the follow-up just might, now that he was being plastered with high-pressure jets of milk!
How foolish of him to forget Madame Cream’s speciality: the one-two punch knockout-drowning combo! Smash someone into a wall, then, while they were too busy extricating themselves, press her hands into her gargantuan mammaries and send a flood of milk smearing her target further, leaving behind such a thick, pasty curtain that it would be impossible for anyone to escape! Much like the Bronco’s own “cream”, the Madame’s milk was infused with her power such that it could solidify into an inescapable, goopy prison; and unlike the equine’s punk, this particular fluid couldn’t be devoured through either… not unless one wanted to become a slave to Madame Cream’s will!
For such was her power that even her milk could extend her dominance! She surely had a great army of minions, all of which were taken by the allure of drinking from her, or eating of her repast, only for their minds to be wiped clean and filled with naught but mindless adoration; truly, a foe worthy of the Blue Bronco, who fought for justice and freedom above all, for all peoples!
… then again, getting free from the binds was easier said than done. As much as the Blue Bronco tried, he couldn’t find any clearance; it felt that, for every inch he gained, two were stolen from him, as if the thick, milky curtain was a pit of quicksand, with himself slowly sinking into it! And the Madame herself, well, she was too busy gloating to really do anything else; looming, gigantic, impossibly colossal, all the Bronco could see was her immense self, threatening to overtake him completely…
Unless he did something about it! Why, he was the Blue Bronco! How could he be expected to live up to that title if he didn’t at least try to put some effort into things? He was the mighty defender of the downtrodden, the tireless guardian of all those who couldn’t fight for themselves, abolisher of tyrannies and grand beater of bad guys everywhere! A little bit of spilled milk was nothing worth crying over; quite the contrary, as it gave him the boost he needed to get away from that bind to begin with!
While he was absolutely, definitely not attracted to the giant bear sow in front of him, the Blue Bronco could not deny that being trapped in a prison of milk was… alluring, in its own odd way. At the very least, the idea of Madame Cream was definitely something he could get behind: if only she weren’t an evildoer, then the Blue Bronco could envision a world in which the two of them would get together to fight crime by day and break beds by night. Alas, he was stuck dealing with her bad decisions, but he was not stuck being unable to appreciate a gorgeous body when it was presented to him.
And his greatest asset was, still, his ability to weaponise his own arousal. In fact, he more often than not had to repress his own desires just to keep his package from growing uncontrollable… but not there! Not anymore! With his very life on the line, it was time to let go of his mental limiters and allow for his full might to become evident: by giving in to the many thoughts plaguing his brain’s pleasure centres, the Blue Bronco thus allowed his body to react the way that it was supposed to: explosively.
Well, not at first. He still had to build up his shot, as it were, load the cannon for it to be ready. Or, to be more precise, the Cannon, capital C; he might occasionally stumble onto an opponent that could not be defeated with strength alone, but at no point had he ever met anyone that could withstand the might of his ultimate move, his finisher, the one technique guaranteed to yield results, no matter how destructive: by infusing his package with the raw power of horny, the Blue Bronco could prepare and then discharge the Cum Cannon, unleashing his full potential in one overwhelming torrent of red-hot spunk that was sure to catch any wrongdoer in its path, and several feet in every other direction for good measure!
For Madame Cream, it was just what the doctor ordered: a full frontal assault, coating her from head to toe in the Bronco’s virile seed! She dared look, gazing down at a cock and pair of balls that grew far too big far too quickly, and in that last moment of fiendish freedom, she understood what was about to happen; a testament to her grit, perhaps, that her reaction was to grin as widely as she could, throwing her arms out to her side just before the dam broke, and her body was projected back with even more force than her own blast had done to the Bronco!
In sharp contrast to his reaction, however, Madame Cream, or rather, Sorana, given the way her voice instantly changed, wasn’t so much groaning as she was giggling with barely contained glee at how things turned out. She was literally plastered against a wall of her own creation, dripping with spunk and glued to its surface, and yet instead of trying to fight back against it, or even so much as complain, she was instead doing her best to clap.
“Honestly, sweetheart, that was the best thing, we should really do this again!” she announced, having to stop to get the snorting out of her, “Honestly, if I’d have known you had these ideas swimming around in your head, I would’ve come sooner! Now, be a dear and come over to untie me, would you? I seem to be stuck to the wall.”
She snapped her fingers, and near-instantly, Baha, back to his senses outside of the Bronco persona, fell to the floor. The sticky milk coating gone, he had nothing left to hold him up, and crashed with a loud, surprisingly slorshing thud; his balls were still achingly stuffed, his cock ready to go another round, and it took all of his considerable willpower to keep from making Sorana’s problem worse.
It took him a long while before he remembered he could just wield his powers to strip his cum off the walls; for a few minutes, he was genuinely trying to do it the old-fashioned way, Sorana gazing at him with a mixture of incredulity and obvious affection. Once she was freed, however, Baha had nothing left but the tight, constricting embrace of a pair of tits bigger than he was, and the bear’s muffled voice coming from somewhere above him.
“We should definitely do this again soon, sweetheart!” - her enthusiasm was clear, the slight shakiness even more so; the way her legs were rubbing against one another, Sorana was close to her limit already - “A-and maybe next time we can have a more… direct confrontation?”
Curious choice of words. Baha chuckled, knowing that he was going to have to humor these whims for the foreseeable future; his own fault, honestly, for ever sharing his idea in the first place. Still, it could be worse; his first draft was thankfully buried somewhere no one would ever find it.
At least now he could have some fun with his creation!
