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Changes - Part 4 (Patreon Commission for ShrapnelTheWolf)
🕑 Added 2021-06-23 13:56:29 +0000 UTCTAGS: Hyper/Hyper Everything, Growth/Expansion, Cumflation, M/F, Room-Filling Sizes, House Destruction, Preg/Pregnancy, Breeding
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It had been a few days since last the three of them were unceremoniously shown the door and given a warning not to engage in any more “high-impact debauchery”, whatever that was supposed to mean, and things could not have gone better. Granted, getting the house fixed up after the slight mishap when the two of them got a little too frisky with one another was still going to take a while, and it was true that things had gotten to the point where they simply couldn’t do whatever they wanted, for fear of accidentally barrelling over a large chunk of the city… but no one could stop them from walking around and enjoying life as a happy couple, especially now that they were fully mobile again. Both the serval and wolf caused a significant amount of damage to the research facility before the on-site staff managed to break through the thick coating of rubble and snap some compressor clothes on them, and even then it took several more layers before the situation was even remotely stabilized; it was a dangerous, novel approach, and one that carried a non-zero risk of backfiring horrendously via complicated spatial dynamics that none of the people involved truly understood, but at least that dice roll came out in everyone’s favour. Though it required a significant amount of effort to calm Shrapnel, Liz and Cynthia enough to get them to stop rutting one another like wild animals, and even more to convince them to keep the clothes on for their own sake and the sake of the entire planet around them, the three kinksters responsible for the destruction of one of the most state-of-art, advanced research facilities in the field of dimensional compression eventually agreed to keep it in their pants and not push their limits even more than they already had… not exactly saying much in their case, but at least it was better late than never, even if just barely: not only was the building mostly destroyed, their expanding forms having spared only the main storage warehouses and, mercifully, the server mainframe containing all the research data, but the ridiculous amounts of growth that they had caused in one another had led to their bodies reacting… explosively. And expansively. Mostly the latter, to be quite honest, especially when it came to the size of their assets; never in his life did Shrapnel think that he’d ever be able to look down and see a sheath that covered most of the space from his waistline down to the bottom of his calves, along with a pair of nuts that dragged behind him on the ground whether or not he liked them. Never in his life did he think he’d see that and be able to know it was but a fraction of his true size, hidden away by a multiple stacked layer of compressor clothes and trinkets just barely keeping him contained, one click of a button or a bad decision away from unleashing an apocalypse of cum and cockflesh upon the city. Much the same could be said for Cynthia, whose tits had reached such an impressive size that, even with several bras worn on top of one another, her smallest size was already bigger than her fullest, most stuffed one had been prior to letting Shrapnel go wild on her. But the biggest winner, without a doubt, would have to be Liz; if the serval’s mom had been blessed thrice over by the boob fairy and her mate had inadvertently turned himself into the dream breeder, then Elizabeth herself was… something else. Perhaps the most striking change was the fact that her belly was still slung out in front of her, courtesy of a pregnancy that her mother had also been ladened with; the main difference being that, for whatever reason, Liz had taken quite a bit better to Shrapnel’s virility than her mom had, hence why that absolutely colossal womb she had on full display was, itself, also under the effects of a series of compressor layers. She had initially protested, half because she wanted to remain stranded atop her gravid self, half because she was genuinely scared for the safety of her little ones, requiring a lot of time and energy on the part of the on-site staff before she even thought about agreeing to the use of a secondary set of compressor layers. In the end, it was Shrapnel’s promise to help her “test the limits” on what the compressors were capable of that got her to stand down and accept the offer, at which point she regained her own mobility… at least for the belly. In many respects, it was impressive just how easily her body took to being changed by this newfound pregnancy of hers (that and ample supplies of extra seed), because she was left far, far bigger than her mother; perhaps it was the fact that this was her first, and thus her body did what Cynthia’s had years prior and… adapted. A large amount of young required a heaping load of milk to keep them well-fed, after all, and what better way to ensure that was the case than to leave the serval positively gargantuan? It was nothing short of a wonder that she could even walk at all, because even her compressed state was so much larger compared to her mom that the best way it could be described was via direct comparison: if one were to take Cynthia’s full bust, at its current “smallest” size, it would add up to about the same as a single one of Elizabeth’s nips, and though those things were almost ludicrously huge compared to the tits they were capping, along with a set of areolae that covered most of the front of Liz’s mounds, her bust was just as massive as that comparison might imply. Just walking down the street was enough to completely take over her surroundings, as no cars could drive past her, and no one could really use the sidewalks unless they were crawling on the ground; being able to sit outside restaurants and playfully tease her mate was a thing of the past for the young serval, though at least her new size opened plenty of new opportunities if only the two of them found some place with enough empty room that she could sit comfortably in: such as the local park! Granted, she had to push a great number of people out of the way without even realizing she was doing so (or perhaps just not thinking too much about it), but given the sort of show it allowed her to put on, this was nothing more than further fuel to the fire; if beforehand the serval could easily set Shrapnel off just by openly groping herself in public, threatening to unleash her tits upon the world as her hands danced between her soft, furred flesh and the thin layers of cloth keeping her at least nominally decent, now that the slingshot bikini was mandatory she had to come up with new, inventive ways of making her wolf partner sweat… ways such as outright plunging her hands into her tits and letting Shrapnel watch as they vanished all the way to the wrist, elbow, nearly the shoulder, the grumbling of milk loud and almost ear-piercing in how much churning was produced from such a simple gesture. That, and the knowledge that what the two of them were seeing, this absurd and exaggerated caricature of what breasts were, was nothing but a decimal point of a decimal point of a fraction of a percentage of what Elizabeth really had to offer; though she was contained before the worst happened and her whole body went out of control, the technicians manning the observation consoles noted with some trepidation that the combination of a good breeding, copious amounts of spunk and just her innate genetic make-up had all led to a growth spurt that, as far as anyone knew, hadn’t actually stopped. The truth was, the compressors that Elizabeth had on were far beyond what she actually needed, because frankly, no one had any other ideas for how to deal with the impending boobpocalypse; the one solution they could come up with was giving her enough dimensional room to work with that it would take at least a couple of months before it was completely full, but what happened after that was still up for debate. New, better compressors? Being jettisoned into space? Frankly, Elizabeth didn’t really care, and neither did Shrapnel; as far as they were concerned, the compressor array wouldn’t last for more than a few days, let alone a couple of whole months, because they certainly weren’t about to hold back from having some fun… especially not with how eagerly the wolf responded to seeing his partner openly indulge in the kind of debased displays of lewd behaviour that were, up until very recently, the exclusive purview of fantastical animations and the occasional comic strip of highly variable quality. No, Liz was there, and she was very real; those tits weren’t merely rendered, they were physical, and if he wanted to he could actually reach out and touch them! Not that he should, given that it almost certainly guaranteed that his cock would emerge from a sheath that was about as big as it needed to be to service the monster hiding inside, so obviously the best thing he could do was hug her from behind and keep his mind and hands focused on rubbing that gravid belly of hers, the one he’d helped to create in the first place. He could feel the immense tightness, the way that it occasionally bloated by a few inches before the compressors kicked in and stabilized it; much like the tits resting on it, the size of that womb was such that even its compressed state forced Elizabeth’s belly to nearly drag on the ground several feet in front of her, requiring each step be taken with the utmost of care, so as to not disturb the little ones within. Shrapnel could only imagine what its true size may be, considering the growth spurts that just barely got caught by the dozens of compression layers… not that he should imagine it, given the sort of consequences that brought along with it, but it was always fun to consider such a notion in the abstract, with enough distance between himself and the concept of it to keep his dick from rising to full mast. Didn’t exactly stop it from poking Liz’s back, but then again, all that did was give her yet more reasons to hurry up and get to the park so the two of them could have some fun, rather than waste so much time deliberately showing off to as many people as she could… plus, she was holding back traffic, and the city’s mayoral office probably wouldn’t take that too lightly, even if she literally couldn’t help herself. In the end, what used to be a ten minute walk from Cynthia’s place to a large patch of open greenery took the better part of an hour, left several streets’ worth of buildings utterly ravaged as their facades were either smoothed into a flattened state or just ripped out entirely, and caused enough second-hand arousal that there was probably a small flooding hazard developing in their wake; not that any of this registered with either of the two lovebirds, for whom the only important part was that they had finally gotten somewhere that had enough space that they could, at long last, enjoy one another the way that they were supposed to: carnally, and without the slightest concern for limits, safety, consequences or even basic physics! Sure, it’d probably end up with them thoroughly shattering the various compressors they were wearing, along with enough size bursts to cover a significant chunk of the city they lived in, but really, what was the point in holding back the inevitable? It wasn’t as if anyone had a plan for what would come after “a couple of months”, so might as well enjoy things while they lasted.
