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Synchronisation - Part 1 (Patreon Commission+ for Joducus)
🕑 Added 2022-07-20 15:07:05 +0000 UTCTAGS: Growth/Expansion, Multi/Multi Growth, Hyper/Hyper Growth, TF/TG
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He didn’t really know what “cutting edge, non-virtual synchronization tech” was supposed to mean, but the DLC was only five bucks, so Jeremy figured it shouldn’t be too much of a loss. Push come to shove, he could always refund it; no skin off his back, and maybe he’d even find it to be fun… whatever it was it did. The game itself was a standard RPG, so anything to do with “non-virtual” thing sounded distinctly off when applied to the genre; maybe it was linked to a third-party website where they tracked… something?
He didn’t know. Frankly, he didn’t care; the DLC was paid for, downloaded, and he was back with his raccoon gal in just a few minutes, searching through the menus for whatever happened to be new. Nothing flashy was at all evident, and it took until he checked the settings on a whim before he saw a new tab had been added to the end of it, conspicuously labelled “Meatspace Synchronization”.
Now, the implications were obvious, and Jeremy, for one, could not believe he’d just been tricked into buying DLC that would need peripherals on top. He really should’ve read the fine print; he was sure that, at some point, between all the buzzwords and marketing speech, there would at least be an asterisk telling him he needed to have a figurine or a VR headset in order to make use of “meatspace” anything. Assuming of course it was what he thought he was; Jeremy doubted that anyone would deliberately name one of their virtual creations “meatspace”.
Still, it was there, so he might as well see what it did. Clicking on the tab revealed nothing but a mostly empty screen, with a single, overly large button in the middle bearing the word SYNCHRONIZE in overwrought italics. It appeared designed from the ground up to look impressive, at least at first glance; almost as if anyone who bought the DLC was about to embark on some magical journey the moment they clicked that button and synchronized whatever it was the game decided was necessary.
For him, it was just another opportunity to laugh at himself and his inability to keep his money in his pocket. Of course it was a cash grab; did he not know which company developed that game? He was likely to be told he couldn’t synchronize without some sort of season pass and a bunch of peripherals and another fifteen different things, along with registration on a website that was built to do nothing but steal his personal information with dubious consent on his part.
No point backing off at the last moment though. With a sly grin, half-expecting a window to open the moment he pressed that button, Jeremy clicked on the SYNCHRONIZE and… nothing happened. Nothing apart from the button changing to a loading bar, which sat at 0% for so long that Jeremy genuinely thought that someone had broken; maybe the game process was locked up, as the DLC failed to install properly, or perhaps the entire thing was so heavy on it that it just took that long. Whatever the case, it was clearly going to take some time, so Jeremy got up and headed to the kitchen, hoping to fix himself a sandwich while whatever was taking place wrapped up.
As expected, nothing at all took place in the time it took for him to get up, fix himself far too much ham between two slices of bread, and sitting back down to see that the synchronization bar was still at ten percent… but, as it seemed, moving faster now that he was actually watching. Jeremy sighed, thinking that maybe the initial load had been dealt with and now the game process could proceed apace, but as he stared at it and nothing happened, he had to wonder just what he was doing.
It was obviously not doing anything. He had just bought a fancy button and a loading screen for five bucks, and he was genuinely sitting there waiting for something to happen. It would almost be funny, if it hadn’t been his money he just pissed away… yet, at the same time, he still felt like he should at least wait until the loading was done, purely to see if anything would actually happen: maybe a bunch of confetti would suddenly pop up on the screen, who knew?
It was on leaning back, hoping to get some rest on his chair while he waited, that it first became apparent something was wrong, when the damned thing groaned far too loudly. Enough so, in fact, for Jeremy’s eyes to open wide at the noise, his mind already conjuring up thoughts of it being broken and needing a replacement; he hadn’t heard the sharp click of the hydraulics breaking properly though, not like the last couple of chairs, so why exactly it was being that loud was a mystery… at least, until he looked down at it and saw a pair of tits where his chest should be.
It was a drastic enough change that his mind took a few moments to process it properly. Indeed, Jeremy actually looked away from himself to check the chair, grumbling something about there being a blockage in the way, before his conscious self caught up to what his eyes had just told him; once it did, the resulting yelp was loud to be heard through most of the building, with the young man throwing his chair back as he jumped from it, nearly losing his balance when he found his center of gravity seriously affected.
Looking down again, he definitely had breasts. Bringing his hands up to his bust revealed that they were, indeed, quite real; either that, or his mind had been shot, he was hallucinating, and his other senses were going along with it in a way he never thought they would. But when he let his hands migrate further down, perhaps wanting to tell just what else was changing about him, was when something clicked, because he didn’t just find belly there… but additional rows of tits.
Two more, to be precise, which was when it all clicked and Jeremy figured he had to be dreaming, because there was no way he was turning into his RPG character. It was just too good for it to be true; the likelier scenario was that he had imagined the whole DLC thing and he was actually asleep at his desk (again), watching it all unfold from within his mind’s eye. It made sense as well; he wasn’t exactly playing the most wholesome of games to begin with, nor had he decided to go with anything remotely contained, preferring instead to indulge in his size fantasies.
He’d been playing an anthro raccoon for some time now, one possessed of three very sizeable busts that oftentimes strained the game’s engine whenever he had to sprint and all six tits were made to bounce in the skimpy clothing he deliberately glamoured onto his armor. It was an interesting experience, to say the least; logging in every day to be met with a titstack half as big as his character model had left imprints in his brain that Jeremy believed would never be scrubbed off, ones that he was more than happy to deepen whenever he had the chance.
So it made sense that his literal dream self would turn into the same kind of body model, even if it had to come up with some ridiculously convoluted system for it to happen. It made sense that he could look in a mirror and see not his face, but that of his character’s, looking back at him with the widest grin, tongue licking their lips. It made sense that they would have three racks of tits bigger than their head lining their torso, and it made sense that their ass was wide enough that it could probably give most chairs a run for their money.
Indeed, it made enough sense that Jeremy didn’t think to question it. Just as soon as the transformation was complete, he looked back to the computer screen to confirm that the synchronization bar was, as expected, full and displaying a golden 100% with almost palpable pride. He didn’t know why his brain decided that he needed this to happen in order to fulfil a fantasy, but such were the realms of dream logic: nonsensical, maybe, but ultimately it was still a dream, not a nightmare.
A lucid dream as well, given he hadn’t woken up and yet was still perfectly in control of it, at least for the time being. Jeremy figured the best he could do with his time was try and get the most out of it while he still could; plus, given that his brain had apparently decided that the means for his growth should come from his favourite game, it only felt logical that he should use said game to further progress himself along the path to becoming more like his fantasy self.
Not to mention, as soon as he clicked the synchronization bar, it didn’t merely go away to reveal an empty screen; rather, it was replaced with a large number of sliders in a brand new setting screen, sliders which, fittingly enough, were all labelled after body parts… very specific body parts, the very same that a horned-up mind like his would decide needed to be warped and changed to better fit his idea of a perfect form. He was practically giddy at the sight… or she, as the case may be; the very thought was tingly in a way that Jeremy didn’t expect it to be, but if he was going all-out, he might as well go all-out.
The first thing that had to change were the tits, obviously. This much was simply not negotiable: they were already enormous, and definitely more than enough for what he usually preferred watching on a screen, but this wasn’t a screen, it was her! A dream version of her, one that didn’t truly exist outside of their mind, but still her, and not some virtual representation, mere pixels on a screen. It even felt real, which Jeremy could only chalk up to his brain being so used to those sorts of sizes that it knew exactly how he thought it should feel like, in a complicated game of self-bluffing that they had no intention of pulling the thread on.
What mattered was they had tits, as well as a slider that seemed designed to change their size, along with the will to do just that. They were big, yes… but they could be bigger. Indeed, many times before had Jeremy considered the possibility of hiring an artist to draw up his character in even more extreme scenarios: what if those enchantments of milkiness didn’t wear off? What if she was struck with a curse of growth, or got stuck with an artifact increasing her equipment load with no way to take it off? What if she was just big, no questions asked, and he could delight himself with the sight of his virtual avatar in the shape that they wanted it to be?
Well, now she could, and it was as simple as pushing a slider all the way to the right… very slowly, so she could appreciate the growth as it went along, rather than having it all dumped onto her at once. It was surprisingly smooth, all things considered; no explosion of pleasure leaving her mind blank and unable to think on any one thing at once, but rather the slow, building realisation that the weight she was feeling, tugging at her back, was so terribly real. It was the low, grumbling groan of her skin and clothes as her tits swelled outwards, leaving her more and more laden and unable to stand straight, forcing the now-raccoon to hold her desk just to keep from falling forwards.
She dared not open her eyes. But she wanted more.
Reaching her character’s size was the easy part, even if it was an already-ridiculous one that would never been seen in real life. Three rows of breasts, each one bigger than her head, each one positively stuffed with milk as well; a seldom-seen trait that she occasionally got some mileage out of whenever the admins weren’t watching. But, looking at the menu available in front of her, she couldn’t help but wonder if she shouldn’t go a bit further still.
Her breasts being what they were, it was almost surprising to see that the slider was all the way back to the middle of its bar; the raccoon was convinced she’d dragged it all the way over to the right, leaving her slightly confused as to why it wasn’t there until she noticed a small, almost unnoticeable button on the top right of the screen: another synchronization function, automatically going off every few seconds, presumably keeping her meatspace self updated in accordance with what the sliders were set to.
Now, if she dragged the bar back to the left, there was a decent chance her breasts would shrink, and that, that she couldn’t abide by. She could deal with a lot of things, but shrinkage? And now that she’d been given a way to grow to the size she’d always been meant to be at? No, that much was not an option, and she was going to make sure that it wasn’t… mostly by immediately dragging the bar all the way to the right again.
What followed were two things: first, the sound of groaning, creaking wood, as the amount of weight placed on Jeremy’s desk grew to the point where the surface was at a serious risk of collapse unless they moved back from it. Secondly, the sound of six splatters of milk splashing against the ground at the same time, the result of a high-pressure build-up being ejected in something akin to a milkgasm, forcing the raccoon gal back onto her ass from the sheer force of it.
As she landed, however, she’d find that the rump that hit the floor was not the same one she’d been carrying all of her life. Naturally not, given that her body had been adjusted to better fit that of her character’s, but even then, it was noticeably cushioned, enough that her eyes went wide open as the magnitude of fat she had down there was made apparent after the hard plop. It took a few moments for her to truly process the stimuli she received, but once she did, the raccoon gal could do little but stare back at her ass to try and take stock.
It was definitely bigger. Probably made that way during a lapse in judgement when she wasn’t paying attention to where all the sliders were going, preferring to be giddy over the possibilities rather than thinking about what she was actually doing. Not as exaggeratedly massive as her tits, but definitely enough that none of her pants were going to fit anymore… which brought to mind an important question: where had her pants gone to?
Bah, thoughts for later. For now, it was best she focus on the things that mattered: things like how her many racks had grown so much that her titstack was probably as tall as she was, things like how her breasts were so massive and wide that she likely had more sideboob on display on either side of her than she did torso width, an accomplishment she had constantly bemoaned being unable to achieve with her avatar.
But this was her now. Her virtual avatar could take a hike and sit down in a corner in the remote wilderness, because this, this was the new her, made manifest through… well, five bucks’ worth of a DLC and what was definitely enough brain damage that her brain refused to wake up from what was obviously a lucid dream, but it was her regardless. The sensations were still there, her brain was still busy processing them, she still felt the carpet, her chest, the world around her on her tits, every errant breeze from the outside leaving her to tremble as the stimulus was magnified tenfold.
Her tits were sensitive, and she wouldn’t want them any other way. They were unable to even exist without making her horny now: their weight was such that she had a constant form of stimulation going on, whether it be the bottommost row having the other two stacked on top of it, or the middle one being squished by the two above and below. Even if she did absolutely nothing, her racks would keep her on the edge of orgasm.
This was to say nothing of her milk production, which had somehow been spiked to such a high level that she wasn’t leaking so much as gushing, producing enough of it that the floor around her was becoming a large, off-white puddle, one that grew wider with every passing moment. She felt tight, so much so that it was almost as if she lacked the space needed for all the dairy she was carrying… one hell of a thought, once she formulated it, and yet, not nearly enough.
It was a strange thing to think, that she could be that large, that productive, and it still wasn’t enough to satisfy her. It made it a pertinent question to ask whether she’d ever be satisfied at all, or if she was destined to forever chase new and more absurd highs that only her dreams could fulfill. Would she wake up later that day, carrying memories of what her sleeping mind had cooked up, perpetually spoiled to what reality could offer?
Or would every night become a new dive into depravity? Would every night be an exercise in her discovering what new and innovative ways her very brain could stimulate her, what manner of deranged ideas her mind would put to the test in this dreamscape of hers? She’d like that; especially if it meant using her virtual avatar as a conduit through which to explore the limits of sanity and decency, given how attached she was to it. In fact, so attached, that it felt downright wasteful not to properly stretch things to the breaking point.
Part of why her avatar was so excessive was because the game let it be that way. The other part was her deliberately going out of her way to try and see how far she could go before someone poked her on the back and asked her to take it back a couple of notches. It had never happened, and indeed the raccoon doubted it would given the nature of the game itself, but it was always fun to pretend that it would, and she was constantly on the verge of being disciplined for doing something the whole experience was designed around.
As a result, there had been a few parameters that Jeremy had never actually tinkered with, mostly because he hadn’t quite gotten to the point where he could justify doing so to himself. It had to come as the result of escalation, of him going so far that only the extreme and absurd was left… but, now that she was there, it felt downright wasteful not to try and go for it all as quickly as possible, because really, she could wake up at any moment, and then the dream would be over!
It was with far too wide of a grin that the racoon gal searched for the right slider in the menu. She knew it’d be there; it was her dream, so of course it would have it, it was just a matter of going through the many options related to her ass or tits or hips or what-have-her. She’d get to those eventually, after she was done modifying the one part of herself that she had always wanted to, yet never found the opening to do… and there, at the very end of the synchronization menu, tucked away as if to taunt her with its seeming non-existence, was what she was looking for.
She was smiling like a lunatic by then: wide, cracked-open lips, all of her teeth on display, a ferocious grin that made it difficult to tell whether she was about to hug someone or take a large chunk off their neck. With one hand on her muzzle, and another on the mouse, she dragged the slider over to the right, and the proper growth began.
Subtle at first, or at least as subtle as it could be given the circumstances. Having been turned into a raccoon, she didn’t have much of a snoot; it was more or less flat against her skull, just barely more than the usual human arrangement, certainly nothing like what she’d seen running around in that very game. But she was going to fix that; indeed, by pulling the slider all the way over to the right, she had fixed it, and now it was down to the synchronisation to help update her dream reality to better fit her ideal self.
Her extension began just a few seconds afterwards, with a low, popping noise, almost like a joint being put back into place. Her skull rearranged, the bone structure protruded outwards ever more with each second that passed as her muzzle itself was made to grow, expanding with every heartbeat until it intruded upon her field of view. It was unorthodox, she had to admit that much, but the raccoon didn’t care; as soon as she placed both hands on her muzzle and felt she had enough of it to wrap both hands around in the first place, she knew she’d made the right choice.
Of course, making the right choice was but the first step; just having her snoot be bigger was one thing, but it had to keep getting bigger. It wasn’t enough for just one boost, much like it hadn’t been enough for her tits to just grow once and be done with it; this dream of hers might just be a simulacrum constructed by her sleeping self, but it felt real, and on some level, she figured that if she forced herself to feel those sensations at high-enough intensity, they would stick.
That was the end goal: to dream so hard that she wouldn’t forget about it a couple of hours after waking up at best. For her to wake up, go about her day, and whenever she needed a shot of serotonin, to think back to what had happened within her head during the night and have to excuse herself to go to the nearest bathroom. Just as long as she could do that, then the raccoon would be satisfied… thus, the best way to go about it was to just push the line as much as she could!
Getting back to the computer was something of an issue once her muzzle grew longer than arm’s reach, then kept going until she had to angle her head upwards and force her eyes to roll down as far as they went just to be able to tell what she was clicking on. That is, until she remembered to just look sideways; slightly embarrassed she didn’t think of it sooner, but that was a dream, so she could be excused for not thinking straight.
That, and she still had a titstack bigger than she was dangling down towards the ground, big enough that, after a certain point, the raccoon gal was lying on it and hadn’t even noticed when the shift took place. Her paws simply left the ground, with her body relying on her three racks to hold her up… and, amazingly, they did just that. There was some pressure, definitely plenty of leakage, but after she was done getting accustomed to the constant sense of overwhelming ecstasy, Jeremy was… well, functional. Functional was a word. She could still use the mouse and move sliders, so it technically counted.
