Some Extra Junk (Patreon Commission for RenaSpikes)

TAGS: Growth/Expansion, Growthlust, Hyper Butt, Butt Expansion

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It was a small enough alteration that, for most, it would’ve been entirely unnoticeable. Indeed, for the first few days, nothing really changed about the Rena apart from their eating habits; it would take some time before the full effects of it became clear, even with Spikes doing his best to go off the deep end as quickly as he could.

So simple as well. With his body being digital in nature, it was merely a case of knowing which variables to touch, which numbers to alter, and soon enough his body would be warped in magnificently overblown and terribly self-indulgent ways. Better yet was that he could have just made himself grow “normally”, altering his size parameters such that he’d end up bigger than before… but where was the fun in that?

Better if he changed it so that he could grow… conditionally. So that he could do something that would cause his body to expand, slowly, delectably, as he pretended to be in charge of it while inevitably succumbing to the allure of his bloating frame. Or, in his case, his burgeoning rear; the Renamon had no intention of making anything above the waist get any bigger than it already was, being enamored by the idea of a rump and set of thighs so vast that he could use them as an impromptu throne.

And what better way to achieve this than by making it so that his body was capable of efficiently processing all food intake, such that it absorbed a hundred percent of all available mass? More specifically, so that it did what it had to do to keep him alive by taking in all necessary nutrients… while the rest went straight into his cheeks and thighs, leaving them ever more rounded and space-filling.

It was a good idea, at least in theory. In practice, it turned out that Spikes’ data manipulation techniques were a bit outdated, given that he had to start eating a lot more for anything to happen to him; he’d expected more ass to start developing almost immediately after the first meal, but it took until nearly a week after he performed the changes for him to wake up, look in the mirror, and notice a bit more of a curve to his butt, along with half a handful or so to each thigh.

To most, this would be nothing, perhaps a warning that they should cut back on whatever their diet was to prevent further unwanted additions. For Spikes, it was proof positive that his idea was working, and that, if anything, he should be eating more: more sugar, more fat, more fried foods, more everything he could scarf down; if the implementation was correct, it’d all go to his ass anyway, so why bother worrying about what would happen to him? He had literally decided what would, precisely to make it a non-issue.

For those around Spikes, it was a drastic enough change that most immediately noticed… though, given the Renamon’s penchant for self-alteration and bodymodding, no one really paid too much attention to it, figuring it was just a random mood and he’d literally grow out of it eventually. It wasn’t until the first month was out, and Spikes was still not done adding more mass onto his ass, that people started worrying.

Not him though. Every day he’d wake up, and every day he began eating almost instantly after hopping out of bed, never to stop until he was back under his sheets; at least, until said sheets were no longer capable of covering him completely, but that was a moot point entirely. What mattered was that he had to be eating something, as all the extra weight was diverted straight to those deliciously pudgy legs of his, and that rotund, cushiony rump he was developing.

Two weeks were enough for him to go from perfectly regular, to being entirely unable to wear anything he had around the house, at least without more than half of his ass hanging off the top. Three weeks, and he had to give up going through doors the regular way; with so much butt in the way, Spikes had to resort to sliding sideways to avoid getting stuck, and even than, after a point, he had to start lifting each cheek individually to have it go through the threshold before working on the next one.

To say nothing of those legs of his, which seemed to function as repositories for all the extra fat that didn’t get stuck in the two gargantuan orbs jutting out from behind him. Spikes figured that, by the end of the third week, he’d be unable to hug just one of his thighs properly; even if he wrapped himself around it, he still wouldn’t touch the tips of his fingers together, leaving at least a few inches between them… and the distance only grew wider with every hour that passed, and every mouthful he swallowed seemingly swelling him up visibly in real time.

A seemingly which, eventually, became a definitely; whatever he did, Spikes had absolutely screwed with things in measure of percentages, because he was growing faster the bigger he became. If he was only gaining fractions of an inch at first, the same amount of junk food added significantly more once his ass grew too wide to go through doors, and this ratio only grew more evidently absurd the further along he went in his expansive journey. He could’ve stopped at any time as well; the same changes that left him able to wreck his way through doorframes were just as easily removed from him as they were placed in the first place. He just chose not to.

Because why would he? Now he walked into rooms and not only left a cloud of debris behind him, but the jiggle and sway caused by it was enough to hypnotise anyone who looked at him for more than a second or two. Even while standing still, he still carried enough ass that the top of his cheeks was just under his neckline, with his lower body jutting out several feet on each side of him; just by being there, he could be the centre of attention, and if that wasn’t living the dream, he didn’t know what was.

So much so that he had to wonder whether he should even stop at all. His body could go about as far as he wanted it to when it came to size; hell, him growing that big wasn’t even anything new, he was just used to different, more “global” forms of growth. Just as long as the data in his Digivice wasn’t corrupted, Spikes could keep going, and just as long as no one raised a point about him destroying his surroundings wherever he went, he’d shamelessly keep on doing such whenever he had to go anywhere.

Because that was the fun part. It wasn’t just having an enormous ass: it was having an enormous ass that was a problem for everyone else around him. It was taking up so much space in any given room that people had to go around him regardless of where they wanted to go. It was being so gargantuan that, were he to sit down, he’d actually end up higher up than if he was standing up… all of which were accomplished within a month, when Spikes’ ass was so titanic that, were he in any fit state of mind, he would’ve declared it to be enough.

Sadly, he was not in a fit state of mind, precisely because his ass was so massive.

In any other occasion, he would’ve had the lynx there to keep him under check; sadly, an extended business trip led to an unfortunate absence of any mediating influence on the Renamon’s life, and a very quick, some might say even vertiginous descent into size-based indulgence. To some degree, Spikes figured it was just another way to get Tim’s attention: at some point, he’d become so big that the cat would have to pay attention, even if it took literally growing to a size where he loomed over any skyline in existence.

For the time being, however, a room would be nice. He wasn’t yet there, but given how much he was eating on a regular basis, and how much of it went straight to his ass, the Rena had no doubt that he was fast approaching a point where he was either going to have to move, or the walls were going to have to come down. That, or he’d just keep on acting as if everything was normal and nothing was out of the ordinary, which was far more fun for everyone involved as far as he was concerned.

Past a certain point, it became a matter of pure scale. Spikes was already busting through doors and smashing through walls; by then, what was the difference between what he was like and himself with another inch or two? Any one given gain was insignificant; it was the compounded size, added onto itself over time, that made for the true prize. And there was plenty of it to go around as well; not like the Renamon could just stop eating.

Or, well, he could. It was a possibility; he was still a digital being, he’d just decided his body needed nourishment because it was such a convenient vehicle for expansion and growth and whatever else he decided to do that month. He could just as easily declare that his form could be kept on digital information alone, like most others of his kind did, and call it a day; the power to stop his ass from billowing outwards with extra handfuls with every bite he took was entirely within his grasp. He simply chose not to take it.

Because why should he, when the alternative was so much better? When he could gorge himself on a daily basis and grow ever wider and more room-filling? When he could bwoompf out and keep growing, until he could barely even move anywhere without causing some measure of damage? After a while, it was a case of him needing to hold perfectly still just to avoid bumping into someone or something, and even then he still needed a lot of empty space for that to be the case; the old house had to have its walls removed the hard way, leaving most of its interior coated in dust and plaster after the Rena was done with the aggressive renovations.

But even this wasn’t enough, because there was still room. He had to be careful not to knock down the exterior structure, and more than once an aggressive step forward led to enough wobbling that even he had to stop to collect himself, but Spikes knew this wasn’t enough; he could still grow, therefore, it was imperative that he do just that, because why give himself the ability to become larger if he wasn’t going to abuse it for all that it was worth? Why bother growing at all if he wasn’t ready to grow until he couldn’t fit in anything?

Besides, the aesthetic was beautiful. He couldn’t have imagined that leaving his upper body at the same size as always while allowing his lower half to balloon out of control would leave him so gorgeous, but whenever he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror or window, of his torso sitting on a cushion of ass several times larger than it… well, suffice it to say, he was quite happy that something else had also grown, even if not nearly as much as his rump and thighs.

For those were the stars of the show, especially once the Renamon began dressing them up in the only things he could think of. Granted, most people wouldn’t think to use tight latex thigh-highs, but most people weren’t him; the effect it caused could not be understated, especially when people around him realised they were looking at a very real ass and not just something their minds cooked up during a sudden hallucination.

Because, and this was the best part about it, Spikes deliberately avoided covering his two cheeks. He made sure his legs were coated from top to bottom in deliciously shiny black, so tight on him that any motion, even something as simple as breathing, was enough to make them creak and groan as they were strained by his immense thighs… but never his ass. The covering stopped just underneath his colossal cheeks, just barely starting to rise up their curvature before immediately halting, as if having realised the folly of attempting such an endeavour.

Walking around with his ass out and zero concern for what others thought of it, that was what Spikes wanted, and that was what Spikes got for himself. Every day that went by, there was more of him, every meal, every snack, was yet more Rena rump that he could bump into everything and anything around, in front, behind him! Every second was just more, in an ever-escalating spiral of growth insanity that, were Tim there to stop him, they would’ve been powerless to do anything about.

It was freedom, in its ultimate manifestation, and for that, Spikes was eternally grateful he decided to throw himself into it with as little concern for his own safety as he did. Hells below, if he’d stopped to think about what would happen to him, he wouldn’t have been left with an ass so gargantuan that he could feel the floor and the ceiling at the same time while still standing up… nor would he have been in a position where he could sense this and still want more.

Because he still technically fit inside a room. Just barely, and with so much difficulty that it strained the definition of the word “fit”, but he was still, technically, residing within a space constrained by four walls, a ceiling, and a floor. Thus, he still “fit”, and thus, he should work towards not fitting, even if more or less all available space was taken up by either his ass or his legs already; even if he could be “sitting” on himself on one side of his mega-bedroom and still feel the wall several feet away, this wasn’t enough, because he was still growing whenever he ate, and this meant he could go further still.

Plus, it wasn’t without its own, unique brand of stimulation. Every inch of this new him was just as sensitive as his old self had been, and with a little help from his Digivice, made more sensitive still: a simple grabbing motion, a handful of ass really, was all that Spikes needed to have his eyes roll up and his lips be bit automatically, his bodily responses no longer under his control. And the bigger he became, the more he derived from it; it wouldn’t take long before just sitting down provided enough sensory overload to achieve… greater heights.

And besides, Tim was still out of town.

Why not enjoy the madness while it lasted?