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A Dinner Date - Part 3 (Patreon Commission+ for ShrapnelTheWolf)
🕑 Added 2022-03-01 17:07:30 +0000 UTCTAGS: Hyper/Very Hyper, Growth/Expansion, Clothes Bursting
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Point being, Elizabeth had an idea going forward, and she needed her little pup to be in just the right mental and physical state that he wouldn’t be able to put up a fight even if he wanted to; it was going to need a supreme amount of balance and acrobatics to avoid either of them getting hurt, and while the serval was quite confident in her elasticity, it could only go so far before she risked tumbling at an odd angle and thoroughly ruining their wonderful night together. Best to wait until Shrap was little more than a pile of stuffed nutflesh with a small pup on top begging for someone to help him relieve himself, that way he wouldn’t do something stupid like try and use their hands when she began climbing him. She didn’t blame him; the pressure in those cumtanks of his was already high enough that he didn’t need her weight on top of them making them worse, but that was hardly her problem, now was it? Best that the wolf get used to it, because she hadn’t puffed her mound up as much as she had just for show, nor had she turned up the flow on her femcum just to fill the air; oh no, she was going to give it to him, and in such absurd quantities that Shrapnel would have to take it, lest he end up drowning in her arousal. Granted, he probably would like to go through that, but that’d have to be left for another time; that night, she had something planned, and this something needed her to very carefully clamber onto Shrapnel, even more carefully turn around so her colossal rump could serve as a “roof” above the wolf’s head… and so her muff was right there for him to plunge his head into. He would as well; had the serval done nothing else, her mate would’ve absolutely dived in, even if he didn’t think about doing it; it’d be automatic, more of a muscle responsible than anything more conscious, and she was certain to receive the best that Shrapnel’s tongue could provide. Liz, however, was not looking to be serviced; quite the contrary, as her intention was to push herself onto Shrapnel and force him to take everything she had to give! Again, not that she had to actually “force” him to do anything, he’d gladly do it by himself if he had the chance, but there was just something so thoroughly enjoyable about being able to dictate terms of engagement that made the experience far more delectable than it had any right to be. Thus, Liz climbed atop the mountain of nutflesh and unceremoniously plopped her muff directly onto Shrapnel’s face, not so much covering it as she did thoroughly submerge the poor guy in her mound. She didn’t have to wait any longer than a moment or two either; Shrap knew exactly what to do the moment his face was underneath so much of his mate, and even if his brain wasn’t working all that well after such a thorough beating by the rest of him (and her), it still knew how to work the wolf’s tongue, and it damned right knew how to swallow. Not exactly the most orthodox of experiences, and not something he usually did; mostly, he stuffed Liz, not the other way around, but he wasn’t going to say no to it if it was offered! It’d be rude, and a waste, and frankly a completely missed opportunity for him to do something he rarely had the chance to do! Besides, it wasn’t as if his taste buds were functional anymore, not after first contact with the kind of flavor profile gushing out of the serval; if ever there was anything he could taste, it was now garbage compared to the mannah dripping in such abundant quantities from within Liz’s folds. To describe it would be to commit a great injustice upon it, to even try was folly; it was filling, delicious, and filling, and also filling now that he thought about it. ‘Twas almost as if each mouthful counted for ten or so, stuffing his throat with the stuff and bloating his stomach out, though only ever for a couple of seconds at best; whatever was happening, the juices were vanishing from within him… and reappearing somewhere else a few seconds later, it would seem. Shrapnel missed it at first, but after the walls started breaking down, it became a little more than obvious that his balls were swelling up even faster than before, if that was even possible; not just that, but the gaping hole that was his sheath had finally begun to fill, with the pressure mounting behind it having reached a critical tipping point, bending the cockring out of shape as the monster it was made to held had finally had enough of its confinement. Groaning, creaking metal reverberated through what was left of the air, Liz smiling from ear to ear as she felt the ring break apart inch by inch; soon, it would shatter entirely, sending shrapnel flying away from Shrapnel in every direction, and finally freeing the wolf from his dreadful plight. Once it was done, she would receive her prize, the bestial shaft hidden deep within that cavernous pit, waiting to spear her from end to end and turn her whole body into a cum dumpster; wouldn’t be the first time she was more or less stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey, oozing spunk from every orifice and begging for more all the while, and if she had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t be the last time either. No, she had plans, and these involved giving Shrapnel his fill until she could hear his nuts creaking as their skin struggled to stretch out to accommodate for how much they were having to bloat; she needed him to drink deep of her until he was drunk from her arousal, drunk from her femcum, silently begging for more and more and always more until there was nothing but the need for it left inside of him. It was easy enough, to be perfectly honest; it wasn’t as if Shrapnel was a complicated man, and all that was really needed of her was to present something for the wolf to happily take it. To shove her muff onto his face and make him guzzle down her juices though, that one worked far too easily; one would say it was almost disappointing, if Elizabeth hadn’t been expecting just that to happen. All she needed to do was keep herself there and everything solved itself: Shrapnel kept his mouth open, Shrapnel kept gulping, his balls kept getting fuller, and finally, after what felt like a small eternity, the cockring broke apart. It happened in just a second, a moment really, when the structural integrity of the metal circle reached its lowest possible point, followed by a loud and ringing pling and two distinct crashes when the two halves of the former whole embedded themselves into different sections of the foyer’s walls. Almost immediately after, with a loud and rumbling groan that seemed to shake the whole building down to its foundations, Shrapnel’s dick was free. Well, for a certain definition of what “free” meant; it no longer had a cockring to keep it back, letting it rise proudly from its sheath and grace the whole world with it magnificence, but unfortunately for any would-be observers, this moment of freedom was as fleeting as the last remnant of Shrapnel’s sanity. There would be no waste there: Elizabeth might’ve had her muff firmly pressed against her lover’s face, but she was still a serval, and that meant her agility and flexibility were unmatched. It was therefore with almost no difficulty whatsoever that Liz twisted around and aimed herself just so that the emerging shaft would pierce straight through her lips, slam into her cervix, then plow right on through. Describing the experience would take a bit more vocabulary than Elizabeth had at the moment, but if she were to try, it’d something along the lines of shouting for Shrapnel’s name in between using God’s name in vain several times in a row per second, every second, for about half an hour or so. That should get one close to the idea of what it might be like to experience even a fraction of what Elizabeth went through in that one glorious, transcendent instant where her insides were stuffed, split open, and filled up all at once, when her body was shattered and made whole by the biggest dicking she’d ever received. Yes, Shrapnel had been larger before, but only after the two of them had been going at it for a while, usually about an hour or so; never had she had the privilege of having the first thrust be that big, and frankly? She’d been missing out. In one of her last moments of lucidity, Elizabeth wasted her time thinking about how she could’ve been getting that all the time if she wanted to, yet only then had seen fit to try it; an absolute waste of time, talent, and the kind of cum production that would leave most breeder farms scarlet with envy… but not anymore. Now she had that cock firmly lodged inside of her, stretching her out to such an absurd extent that, were it not for her own malleable biology, she would’ve literally been broken in twain far before she had the opportunity to realize that was the case. But her being what she was, and a serval on top of that as well, it was child’s play to take all of it and still come out the other end screeching to be filled further, letting everyone else in the apartment block know, in no uncertain terms, just what was going on behind closed doors. Not that either of the two cared much about keeping it quiet; hell, it made it even better, knowing that their neighbors were more or less stuck there listening to it happening, unable to do anything about it other than sit there and growing increasingly red in the face as it got louder and louder… that, or get the hell out of dodge while they still could, before the growth spurts began in earnest and the couple of horndogs on the fifth storey made that decision for them. Already the building was feeling it, the not-nearly-thick-enough floor cracking under the weight of two increasingly bigger and fuller lovers whose general approach to caution was to throw it out the window and forget it ever existed. Better to live in the moment, to exist as a present being and eschew any sort of continuity; they, better than anyone else, knew just how fickle fate could be, how at any moment they might do something that triggered their release response and caused a cascading failure that would bring the whole building down around them. It was, therefore, in their best interest to act as if any given second could be the last one before climax… because it absolutely could be. And that being the case, they had very little incentive to hold back; if it could all be over at any moment, it stood to reason they should be going all-out, nevermind how much damage this was doing to their environs. The walls might break and the grounds around the building might flood, but as long as the two of them had one another, that was all that mattered in the end; besides, Liz was reasonably certain she could take most of what Shrapnel could pump out, so if anything, the rest of the apartment block would only have to deal with a small-ish inundation rather than anything more catastrophic. Like that one time. Or the other time. Or those other three or four occasions, those also counted to an extent. Even still, nothing of that caliber was important, not next to the absurdity that was their bodies, the immenseness of their forms, the ridiculous quantities of juices flowing freely as like rivers, nothing mattered before the gigantic shaft piercing through the serval’s folds, all-but forcing her to shriek and wail at the top of her lungs. It was the sort of noise that awoke things in Shrapnel that even the wolf didn’t know existed, the kind of sounds an animal might hear if they were in heat, designed specifically to entice further arousal; that wasn’t his mate, begging him to go harder, that was a breeding machine needing to be filled and fueled in the only way that it possibly could… in the only way he possibly could. There was so much of it to give as well; by his reckoning, most of their apartment had likely been flattened already, leaving nothing but his balls, stuffed to the nine with spunk and still growing at a rate too quick for them to ever be truly emptied. Except, of course, he was still going to try; he wasn’t a quitter, that much he still remembered, and if nothing else, then the simple fact that Liz could grow as big as she had was proof positive that she could grow some more, or, in this particular case, be made to grow some more. Be made to bloat and swell, pumped full of spunk until her insides weren’t so much painted white as they were permanently stained, leaving her with enough of a load to keep her well and warm for several months afterwards… at least, for the first couple of pumps. There was a hell of a lot more where those would come from, and Shrapnel wasn’t about to hold back just because he was already flooding the building; hell, the fact that he was doing so was only further evidence that he desperately needed to be emptied out as quickly as possible, lest something worse happen, like he suddenly develop an extra pair of nuts just to hold in all that deliciously hyper-potent seed. No such silliness though; Liz was all he needed, and Liz was right there! All he had to do was muster up the willpower to actually move his hips, to buck forward and thrust into her, rather than simply sitting there and letting his arousal do all of the work for him. It’d take a bit, at least by the standards the two used, and a non-insignificant amount of mental resources to boot, but once Shrapnel crossed that barrier and threw himself fully into his work… there was no turning back. Elizabeth might’ve been in charge up until then, but that no longer was the case, nor would it ever be again, not after what the wolf went through. It was less a change and more of metamorphosis, where the shy and submissive little pup that the serval had wrapped around her little finger was sloughed off like an old skin, revealing the true monster lying underneath, waiting for an opportunity to strike: the “inner” Shrapnel, the one guided purely by a desire to breed, a desire to rut, a need to fuck like an animal and nothing else. The Shrapnel who didn’t care about being called a good boy or having Elizabeth pat him on the head, but only about the serval as a mating partner, the other half of an equation he himself filled the rest of. There was no love there, no adoration, certainly no tenderness either; those were for the other ones, the Shrapnel and Liz that lived in the other world, where they had the time to waste thinking about such frivolous nonsense as that. Themselves though? The ones that were there? Oh, they knew better; they knew better, and were better, and as soon as Shrap was done getting started, they were going to climb to heights never once thought possible before; hell, the only reason they weren’t there already was precisely because Shrapnel had to get started, his body being a slight bit too much for him to just kick into gear without some preparation. So he closed his eyes, letting his hands do most of the work, and on their own, they found Elizabeth’s rump; not exactly hard, given how huge it was, but still, a good job for a pair of graspers disconnected from any conscious input. Next came his paws, anchored onto his own nuts, the wolf barely feeling it amidst the general sense that he was half a second away from popping anyway; and finally, his eyes: open. He saw it all: Elizabeth, in all of her grandeur, bloated and stretched, leaking and milking all over what used to be an apartment, and was now little more than a blast zone brought down by two impossibly massive and burgeoning bodies. He smelt her, sensed her, the combination of her femcum and pheromones, of her fertility mixed with his own musk, driving him crazy beyond measure, leaving no room for any thoughts that did not pertain to breeding her. And from the way she looked back at him, with those wide purple eyes of her, with that begging expression stamped on her face, it was clear to Shrapnel that she wanted exactly what he did; in fact, he figured the only reason she wasn’t shouting at him to go deeper was the cock stretching most of her body out into a living cum dumpster, making it hard to speak words when opening her mouth caused spunk to spurt out from it. But she didn’t need to say anything; Shrapnel knew. He knew what she wanted even if she couldn’t utter it, and he’d give it to her, free of charge and with enough gusto to leave her (literally) floored; so with his hands firmly stuck on her ass, and his paws providing as much leverage as they’d ever be able to, he thrust forward.
A few things happened at once, none of which the two lovers were in any fit state to even begin to understand, but they happened regardless. Firstly, the house they were inside ceased being; not just their apartment unit either, but the entire building around it: the floor above and below, and all others stacked in a formerly-neat order, all of them were rendered into their constituent ingredients and then turned to dust, before even the tiny specks were atomized and reduced to their smallest possible forms. This was followed by a thunderous crash and a thooming boom that the whole city, as well as most of the outlying neighborhoods, would mistake for an explosion in the industrial sector before they bothered looking up and saw what was waiting for them on the horizon. Secondly, whatever sort of sizes either Shrapnel or Liz had been working with also ceased mattering entirely; in that one moment, when the wolf actually tried, the two were no longer small enough to be contained by a singular house… or any structure made by mortal kind, for that matter. They might’ve been, immediately after they were unleashed upon the world, but a few seconds more and they were both encroaching upon sizes big enough to flatten entire city blocks, leaving them entirely uncontrollable barring the use of some kind of super-sized arena… and even that wouldn’t last them for longer than just a few more seconds at the rate that they were swelling. For the third thing that happened was that both Shrapnel and Elizabeth’s bodies noticed what had happened, knew exactly what they had to do, and immediately proceeded to overcompensate by producing far more of everything than they would ever need, which was itself a baseline that had been shifted so perilously upwards by virtue of them being who they were that the “improved” versions began to strain mathematics as most people know them. Liz didn’t need to make so much milk in her tits that she could feed the whole country, yet she still did; she didn’t need to have so much femcum gushing out of her that it washed away several cars and filled up entire avenues, creating torrents which none could stand against, but her titanic mound did so anyway. Likewise, there was no practical requirement for Shrapnel’s nuts to suddenly inflate to about five times their already gargantuan size, and yet there he was, ten times larger and hundred times more productive, and with no end in sight to the ever-escalating spiral that would only end in disaster. All three things took place quickly enough that both Shrap and Liz were left physically unable to process either of them; maybe if they had enough time to go through the mental and emotional backlog, they could’ve rationalized it in some way that made sense, but being beset by it all at once, there wasn’t much in the way of time for them to develop the right neural pathways to even begin to go through the onslaught of sensory overload burning through their bodies and leaving them little more than empty shells, to be filled by their own arousal, their raw horny energy, until they exploded outwards like supernovae… or something along those lines. Not exactly easy to think when one’s neurons were being repurposed purely to transmit pleasure and dump serotonin in industrial quantities into Shrapnel and Elizabeth’s brains, not easy to think when one’s entire form was being restructured from the ground up to do one thing, and one thing only: rut. Not fuck, not make love, not any synonym, but rut, rut like two animals who didn’t know anything other than the carnal, primal need to propagate themselves and make more of their offspring. Not that they would; much as Shrapnel was getting busy dumping far more cum inside of Elizabeth than she could feasibly ever use, the fact of the matter was that the serval’s body just wasn’t ready for the kind of filling it was receiving. It was elastic, yes, absolutely flexible even for her species, but there was only so much that a single pair of ovaries and a regular-sized womb could do… which, of course, could only mean one thing. Elizabeth’s growth abilities weren’t restricted purely to the outside, after all, and though she only rarely warped and modified her internal side, barring the milk glands in her tits, she was still more than capable of doing so if she put her mind to it. But that time, something more was needed, and though Liz herself wasn’t aware of it, what with her body acting of its own accord, there was a way to fix the problem of not having enough room for all the young that Shrapnel could bless her with: just make her babymaker bigger. It was such a simple solution, and one that was entirely within her reach as well; all she needed to do was focus enough and her womb would start bloating, going with the flow of cum and expanding in every direction, pushing her belly out until she had a noticeable bump, then one that appeared nine months pregnant with triplets, then kept on going until any measure of comparison with a realistic pregnancy lost any and all meaning. She was flooded, so full that even her malleable physiology was starting to feel the strain of keeping up, leaking cum all over the place as it mixed together with her own juices to create something that could, very charitably, be described as the purest distilled essence of fertility. Really, anyone who so much as got close to it ran the risk of impregnation, regardless of what kind of equipment they were packing or whether or not they were even carrying life already to begin with; the scent on itself would drive the city crazy within seconds, and with how much of it there was, it didn’t take long before it began flooding through the suburbs surrounding the central metropolis. But even that wasn’t enough, or at least, not enough for those two; they could’ve stopped there, but doing so would’ve been to deny their true nature, and neither of them were in the mood for self-denial. Rather, Shrapnel wanted to breed, Liz wanted to be bred, and together, the two of them were keyed in to start rapidly changing and shifting to better serve this one purpose… mostly by way of elasticity and stretchiness, but still. There was something to be said about how easily the serval’s body took to being flooded with seed; most people would’ve just started backblasting the moment they were, well, full, but not her. She knew better than to waste a single drop, making all the thousands of gallons spurting out of her that much more painful for her to let go; granted, this barely amounted to a fraction of a decimal point compared to what she was being stuffed with, but even so much as a tiny, insignificant ounce of it being splattered on the ground would’ve been too much wasted. Nevertheless, the serval couldn’t afford to be picky, not when she had a city-block-sized dick stretching her out and making it impossible for her to even so much as squirm around, let alone move or… do anything, really. But that was just the way she liked it: why bother spending any time doing anything at all when she could be getting railed by a cock larger than most people could even imagine cocks could get, knowing as she did that it was only going to get bigger the more she kept it going? As long as Shrapnel was given what he wanted, he was just going to keep growing, and as long as he kept growing, she was going to keep being filled. More and more, feeling as her womb was stretched and moulded and turned into nothing more than a baby factory, stuffed and filled and pumped to the point where even it wasn’t enough. The serval had never thought it possible that her mate’s seed could go further than it was technically allowed; even in their most wild of fantasies, even in their most dangerously careless of moments, there was always a limit to how far they could stretch themselves, both figuratively and literally. More specifically, wombs were for filling, nothing else, so when Liz closed her eyes and suddenly felt something she never had before, the creeping of spunk as it was pushed further and further into her, far past where it had at any previous point… she didn’t quite know how to react. It couldn’t be possible, because her body was designed to stop it… wasn’t it? She couldn’t just suddenly change like that for no reason, even after having grown so much, and yet, the more she tried to sense it, the more obvious it became that no, she was absolutely right: her womb was stuffed, and lacking any more room, more had to be made: thus, the only reasonable solution was to keep pumping more spunk into the one part of her that still had room: her Falopian tubes… and her ovaries. She didn’t know how she knew it, only that she did. It was instinctual, in a way, almost like she was aware of every part of her inner body and just happened to know that the pressure she felt next to her egg storage wasn’t just the rest of her pushing against them, but rather the continuous pumping of Shrapnel’s seed doing what it could to find more room in which to be pressure-hosed. It wasn’t even liquid anymore, or even syrupy like it got during most of their sessions, but rather something else entirely, a thick and viscous form of matter that somehow managed to find space to compress itself into where other forms didn’t, leaving Liz with effectively no room within her to fit any more… and yet she did, mostly by bloating outwards and making more room. Further and further the flood pressed, deeper and onward until it was lapping at the very gates of her ovaries; she didn’t know what it would do to her, given what sort of fertility she was blessed with, but it was absolutely going to be explosive, and not metaphorically either. She wasn’t going to explode, but everything else around her absolutely was, especially once Shrapnel realized what was going on and actually started trying. An interesting notion, considering he was already bucking his hips as quickly as he could, though at the sizes the two were operating at, this was… relative at best. Sure, he moved himself a foot or two in opposite directions, but with his shaft approaching on the first mile in length, and the two nuts beneath it making the damned thing look positively miniscule in comparison, this hardly amounted to anything. It was enough though, and more than sufficient for what the two of them had… well, “planned” was perhaps not the best word, but what their bodies were telling them was the best course of action. Shrapnel would keep pumping, Liz would keep bloating, and the city around them would keep crumbling as they both carried on taking every inch of space available to them. No worries, no concerns, just an endless and unstoppable climax reaching ever greater and more absurd heights, topping out once the sheer amount of cum inside of the serval was finally enough to shatter the final barrier and start flooding her ovaries. She had her ideas on how much it would affect her, and her fantasies on top of that; she’d thought it impossible before, but that hadn’t stopped her from idly wondering about what it would be like if it did happen. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately depending on one’s point of view, none of these musings and fantastical thoughts had, at any point, even remotely approached the truth of what it would be like to have her egg factories flooded directly by her mate’s virile seed. Oh, she could certainly stack exponentials on it, multiply it a few dozen times and then lose herself in even more fantasy, but it would hardly ever come close to what actually happened the moment her ovaries were stuffed just as hard as the rest of her had been. Nothing could ever come close to the sensations that came with both of her egg makers unloading all of their contents, seemingly figuring that, if they were being fertilized directly, they might as well make sure every last one of their eggs was released into the flood of seed, to better ensure a rush of new life, as was befitting Liz’s status as a broodmother supreme bar none. Nothing would compare to the taste of heaven that came from her two ovaries clenching and what felt like millions of egg cells being pumped into her tubes all at once to meet the onslaught of sperm ready and eager to meet them. Nothing would come close to the transcendence of being fertilized an uncountable number of times over, of having herself suddenly burst forth with life to such an obscene degree that her belly alone was forced to cover most of the city just to compensate. Liz couldn’t help it: one moment she was merely as big as needed to fit all the spunk being pumped into her, the next she had made Shrapnel look downright tiny when next to her immense, sky-blotting, looming gravid belly, the same one that, just a moment later, very nearly doubled in size as even more life was created… then again, and again, cracking the ground beneath her, causing quakes to reverberate for miles around, disrupting flights and weather patterns purely through sheer volume, causing local gravity to shift as Shrapnel’s response to it all was to stuff her fuller of even denser cum! Again and over itself until the process reached an apex, then kept going as if there weren’t laws against it, physical laws that could not, and should not be ignored, yet were anyway. Elizabeth kept going until her very sense of self became diffused: she was no longer just a serval, but her belly, her womb, her hyperactive, somehow-producing-eggs-again ovaries, the cock inside her still, her milky tits, Shrapnel. She was everything around and in her, embodied fully into her role as a broodmother, unable to think, unable to conceptualize beyond this state, unwilling to go further still if it meant giving up the bliss she felt at that exact time. She was perfect, and as she grew bigger and more fertile, as the number of young within her tipped over to seven digits and she already felt her water break, ready to flood a good chunk of the continent, Elizabeth knew that her plans for the night had gone perfectly.
For just a moment. Then the part of herself that could even think about plans was consumed and repurposed to create yet more broodmother brain.
She had better things to do, after all.
