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Devils and Details pt.7
🕑 Added 2018-07-13 00:40:39 +0000 UTC By our very own RabidBadgercontains gas, wg, trisksy deals!
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Argyle woke with a start. The brief confusion was just that though, brief. He was in his office still, next to a neatly stacked pile of papers with notes and signatures. More to the point he was alone in his office, the blinds drawn on the far side, and-
The wolf reached down quickly, fighting his hand around where his landslide of a gut and his tree-trunk thigh met only to find that yes – his pants were currently around him where they belonged. They were buttoned and everything. Though the cart was gone, and Argyle felt soberingly empty inside. Part of him wanted to buzz Lewis immediately, but that impulse came just a bit too readily. The wolf hesitated, looking at his sausage-thick fingers that didn’t really want to close into a fist, before gripping the edge of his desk instead.
Getting out of the chair was not easy. Argyle had distinct memories of years’ worth of asking Lewis for help with that, which he now had no intention of doing. At least not if he was still physically able to get out of his seat on his own, which after the first attempt – a limp wobble where he leaned forward a bit and felt his belly sandwich itself against his lap but didn’t actually feel his ass loosen its entrenched position in the seat any – was not a certainty.
Argyle tried again, one hand clutching the desk and the other bracing on the arm of his chair. As much effort as he could put into the burst of exertion was dredged up, and the wolf felt himself move – he felt himself lift up a couple of inches before his knees started to buckle and he collapsed, already feeling himself sweating, already panting openly, back into his chair’s dangerously comfortable confines.
For a solid minute the wolf lay back in his seat catching his breath and wrestling with a cold rush of fear. Argyle was not in any way confident he could do this by himself, but now that he’d posed the question he had to know. Slowing his breathing, Argyle thought the problem through for a moment.
As the sweat around his body was rapidly cooling in the air-conditioned office, Argyle thought he grasped the crux of the issue. He leaned back, relaxing as best he could, and exhaled. With the pressure in his chest lower, the wolf lurched forward – but not all the way. He went halfway in, then slid back and pushed against the back of his chair. It was enough to lean it a bit more and give him an extra couple of inches of thrust when he fully committed to wrenching his ass free of the chair.
It became clear from the start that it was working, Argyle felt his butt peel itself loose with all that trapped body heat floating up on noxious winds all the exertion started wringing loose of him. When he finally felt his center of gravity and his legs line up Argyle had his belly sprawled across his desk while he worked once more at catching his breath and sat wondering just when his ass was going to stop venting pent-up pressure.
Several seconds later the wolf’s body had stopped sucking in and blowing out quite so much gas, leaving him looking about again. The clock on one of the bookshelves claimed it was near to closing time for the firm.
“Might as well go back upstairs at this point. Lewis had best be able to solve this issue by tomorrow…”
Argyle’s first step was an experience in itself. All that movement, his hips and butt quaking about with each heavy footfall, all of it out of his control. The wolf was wholly unable to ignore it as he walked agonizingly slowly through the door of his office, finding nobody else there on the other side – Amelie was apparently among those gone for the day, or she might still be in the process of leaving. That was fine by Argyle, he could get to the elevator and do this all in private.
As if it knew he was coming, the elevator stood open – waiting. Argyle let a heavy breath out and began the arduous waddle he was stuck with toward it. The proper antithesis of anything elegant or efficient, Argyle hated every moment of it – particularly how uncomfortably tight it was making his fat-swaddled manhood as he slid one shuffling step at a time into the glass walled confines of the elevator.
The doors promptly shut without Argyle hitting anything, with the floor indicator lighting up and signaling that the lift was heading down to the first floor. Argyle rolled his eyes, immediately punching the button for his own floor even though he knew it wouldn’t help, and then sliding back against the far wall. It didn’t help much, Argyle still felt like a pressed ham, and like he was taking up an inexcusable amount of space inside the small chamber. Which-
Argyle shuddered, a fierce chill running through his being from somewhere deeper than flesh. The sensation lingered, clinging like the cold sweat under his fur, which immediately started forming a fresh coat as his breath caught in his chest and a soft tearing sound filled the elevator.
Feeling his knees buckle, Argyle pitched forward to lean on the opposite wall, the one facing the lobby. The sound persisted, a quiet little tug and rip, coupled with a vague impression of pressure around his body – but Argyle could only half feel it. His skin seemed to be a little numb, while the rest of him felt like someone who had coated their hands in butter was giving him a massage from the inside out.
It took three seconds of focus to get one of his eyes to open, but the rest of Argyle’s senses were working overtime to make up for it. Cool air flooded into the swampy confines of the wolf’s pants as seams broke apart in an end to long torment. The edge of his belly pressed against cool glass and stuck to it. His nose and ears though, those had wrinkled and curled back as hard as they could as Argyle’s rump yawned open, releasing a relentless tide of sulfurous haze into the glass chamber.
The smell probably should’ve hit him worse than it did, particularly since Argyle couldn’t help taking in gasping breaths while he fought to stay propped up on the elevator wall. Standing perfectly still, he felt a creeping sensation along his sides that it took him a few precious seconds to realize were the dangling sacks of blubber hanging off his arms growing far enough down to touch his swelling chest where it lost all definition against his sides. In similar fashion, despite being leaned forward quite a way, constantly shuffling his feet backward just a little to put more of his weight on the wall, Argyle was for the third time feeling his belly press into the elevator wall as his shirt rode up off it entirely.
Despite his top splitting at the arms and now serving as nothing much but an ill-fitting and very expensive bra for a prodigious pair of moobs, it was still faring better than Argyle’s pants. Those had peeled apart at the seams early, but as the wolf heaved and huffed, as his body vented more and more foulness into that small enclosure, he felt the waistband becoming a new problem. It didn’t want to break, but his body had no intention of ceasing its growth any time soon.
The little bit of movement it took to try and work one of his arms around to ‘help’ with the issue was nightmarish. Argyle immediately felt at risk of collapsing where he stood, and yet that small bit of movement made his waist hurt significantly more – a crushing pain inside told him this wasn’t an optional problem. He had to fix it. So, the wolf reached down at his side, or tried to anyway. With so much mass packed around his arm Argyle found it difficult to get it to lay flat against himself and had to press against his own pillowy body just to get his hand to his own waistline, where he found the strap of fabric dug a dire couple inches into his flowing girth.
There was no other answer to it but to dig a claw in and hope it worked. Argyle exhaled again, trying to lighten the pressure inside himself, hooking his finger at the edge of the waistband and picking at it. Feeling threads catch and give, feeling a little groove start to form in the side. One that started growing quickly as the pressure on it contributed to it peeling apart.
Argyle didn’t even hear the soft ‘ding’ sound, he just knew that the floor was abruptly rushing up to meet his face as gravity mercilessly seized him. A loud snap followed hitting the polished floors, which came with a flood of relief in the wolf’s body. That, and a flood of borderline caustic vapor incessantly flowing from his ass. Argyle whimpered, feeling his body undulate and flow like a disturbed waterbed, feeling it resist any of his feeble attempts to even move a limb more than an inch or two – let alone try to stand.
He was dimly aware of others around him. Not that many, a lot of the building’s employees had gone home for the day, but there were a few maintenance workers and some late goers around – Amelie in particular was lingering near the door and looking… bemused? The wolf was thoroughly flooded with a frigid, numbing horror – and confused as to why he wasn’t inspiring it in others – only for Argyle’s terror to spike sharply when he saw Lewis step into the front doors and raise an eyebrow while Amelie made way for him.
“Tsk – again? Amelie, dear, would you call maintenance and tell them to get a crew down here to help Argyle back to the penthouse?”
Argyle blinked, mouth working but no words coming out. He wasn’t sure he had spare breath to try and speak with anyway. When Lewis spoke again, adding a fresh wrinkle to the previous statement, it left the wolf even further lost as the squirrel fiend looked him right in the eye as he said it, and smiled the most genuine grin Argyle had ever seen the creature produce.
“Make sure they send Marshall as part of it.”
