Some Extra Junk - Part 2 (Patreon Commission for RenaSpikes)

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

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Coming back to his place after a whole month’s worth of meetings was, at once, both an elating experience, and something along the lines of “dreadfully terrifying”. Tim never knew what Spikes would have waiting for him when he came back, but he did know that it couldn’t ever be good; whenever he left the Renamon to their own devices, nothing good ever came out of it, even if it was something they could both enjoy.

The conspicuous lack of any text messages on Spikes’ part also served to drive his suspicions to absurd heights. Whenever that lewdster did anything they figured would push the lynx’s buttons, they were the first ones to take out their phone, snap a pic, then snap several dozen more before sending them over in an effort to tease Tim into responding; while it rarely worked, it sometimes did, and thus carried on being an unfortunate “tradition” between the two of them.

So for him to go through an entire month without a single text message, not even a sneak peek at a fraction of an image, was… suspicious. Doubly so when he didn’t receive anything from any of the neighbours, or saw any newspiece on an incomprehensibly massive Rena wreaking havoc across most of the country, or anything at all really; as far as Tim knew, everything was perfectly fine and calm, which, as he knew, meant that nothing could be further from the truth.

Still, he wasn’t supposed to be back home for at least another two weeks, it having been a lucky stroke that his client had caved to the second counter-offer rather than pushing for another round of negotiations. Figuring that he might as well make it a nice surprise, Tim took his time after the taxi left him on the outskirts of his neighbourhood; rather than just walking home, he went to his and Spikes’ favourite pastry shop and spent… a bit too much money on something sweet for the two of them.

Then again, Tim felt his sweet tooth acting up and he really wanted to share a box of goodies with his better half, so it was easy enough to shove that into the back of his head and not worry about it; what was worrying was him walking down the street to their place and suddenly being beset by an inexplicable sense of terror, having gripped him from seemingly nowhere.

He could see his house, out a couple of hundred yards away, and it was perfectly normal: the roof was still there, the walls were intact, there were no signs of destruction around it, and, perhaps most importantly, the lawn was, as usual, not taken care of. Not much happened in a month, but Tim could tell Spikes didn’t bother with the lawnmower even once: a sign that everything had gone as it usually did.

Then why, exactly, did he feel like the very presence of that house was exuding a sense of menace the closer he got to it? As if there was something inexplicably dangerous residing within, touching upon some subconscious, primal nerve that Tim had been unaware that he even had within himself? Why, when he took one step after another, did he feel like he was placing himself in the maws of some great beast, ready to devour him the moment he opened the front door and made himself known?

He stopped. Shaking his head, Tim did his best to try and push those thoughts out of his head; surely, they were just him overthinking things, and not at all a reflection of reality as it was given to him. Surely, if he just walked up to his and Spikes’ home, if he just knocked on the door, and if he just walked through the threshold into the interior, then everything would be fine! At some point, the stars had to align such that the Rena could go more than one day away from him without anything out of the ordinary happening… surely.

Tim kept waiting for the point in which the universe slapped him back and reminded him that this was, in fact, too good to be true. He even went to the trouble of taking longer than usual with every step, squinting as if to make sure that he knew what he was looking at, that he was actually staring at walls and windows and not… anything else which he couldn’t conceive of. And with every step he took closer to the structure, the more  he was convinced that there was nothing there, and the more he earnestly believed there had to be something there.

In a cruel twist of fate, there was a switch at some point; there came a small period when Tim, in a moment of weakness, legitimately convinced himself that he was just being stupid and overly cautious, and that his sense of dread was entirely unwarranted. For a few, blissful moments, the lynx actually walked normally, making the final approach to his home one of remarkable serenity… at least until he looked through one of the windows and saw nothing but purple.

Like a pane of glass being cracked, his mind shattered upon seeing this. Of course it was there; why wouldn’t it be, when it had been, in some way or another, literally every time that he’d gone away for more than a day? Why did he ever think, for even a second, that he could leave Spikes alone for even a moment without him trying to do something that would endanger the structural stability of everything around them?

Letting out a long, suffering sigh, Tim walked over to the window and tried to make some sense out of what he was seeing. The hues of purple gave way to the more familiar tone of Spikes’ fur, pressed against the window hard enough that the lynx could see the squish on the other side; oddly enough, the glass itself wasn’t broken, bent, shattered, cracked, or otherwise damaged in any way, despite clearly being under a great deal of pressure. Even worse, there seemed to be no movement; either Spikes was asleep, or they were so massive that they had taken up all available space within their home, which would make it… somewhat complicated to come inside.

Not that he had much of a choice; Tim wasn’t about to sleep on the street just because some part of Spikes was so big that it had blocked off a chunk of their home. If anything, it was just another reason for him to want to be indoors; he wasn’t in the business of being denied access to a Rena of such proportions. Unfortunately, there was the issue of how he was even supposed to get through the front door; knocking on it revealed the sound to be clearly muffled, as if something on the other side was pressing on the door so much that it affected the noise even on the outdoors.

Definitely impossible (at least as far as Tim was aware), but there he had it. Only then did he remember he had a key for the door itself, though… picking it up from his pocket and using it was substantially harder now that he somewhat knew what was waiting for him. The tiny little thing felt like it weighed a ton and a half, but alas, he had to do something about Spikes; so, with one final sigh and a shaking of the head, Tim inserted the key into the lock, turned it, pulled open the door, and was promptly knocked flat on his ass.

It took a few moments of confusion for Tim to recover something resembling consciousness, in between him landing on his back and feeling like his face had just been hit with a sledgehammer. No bruising though; apart from the initial flash of pain, the memories he had of the impact itself were mostly permeated by an overall sense of overwhelming softness, almost like he’d been bulldozed by a truck full of pillows.

The reality was, of course, not that far away, as Tim came to understand once his eyes refocused and managed to see what had taken him by surprise: an ass. Namely, Spikes’ ass, bulging out the front door after having ripped the poor thing off its hinges on it opening: one massive, rotund slab of ass meat, ready to be grabbed and kneaded and squeezed, if not for the fact that there was so much of it that it was literally pushing out of an entire doorway.

It was… unsurprising. Or, to be more accurate, it was expectable; while each and every time that Tim came back home presented a new and novel way for the Rena to destroy their home, thus ensuring it would technically be a surprise, the lynx had been expecting something, somewhat softening the impact. He still felt sore enough that he needed to have a few words with Spikes afterwards, but for the time being, he was fine with just assessing the damage.

Or the lack of it, as it turned out. No matter how many times he circled the house, Tim couldn’t find a single hint of damage to the structure itself. There was the occasional groaning, signalling how the outer walls were very definitely struggling to hold up against the onslaught of ass, there were even some grumblings coming from the foundations below, but no broken glass, no shattered plastered, not even the slightest crack on the walls, despite the Rena within being so massive they obviously took up the entire interior.

This was baffling, to put it mildly, but then again, the two of them had outgrown the universe a handful of times already, so who was to say that staying within the bounds of a single house was any more confusing? If anything, Tim had to slap himself on the side of the head and remind his dumb self that he’d seen far, far worse things in his time with Spikes; by comparison, what he was seeing there was, if not mundane, then perfectly natural.

The issue was, unfortunately, getting inside. The lynx wasn’t about to stay outdoors because there was too much Rena butt inside his home; hell, the fact that there was so much Rena butt was a perfectly valid reason for him to want to go indoors as quickly as possible! Sadly, the amount of ass in the way made it all-but impossible for Tim to find a point of ingress; not only could he not open the windows from the outside, but even if he could, he’d likely just make another opening for butt to bulge out.

With no way to get to the basement from the outside, and himself too tired to try and climb up to the chimney, this left… the front door. Sighing, all Tim could do was shuffle off to the front of the house and stand there, staring at the soft fur spilling out from the doorway, thinking to himself on how he could ever get through. The pastries were an absolute loss as well; regardless of what happened, if he brought those things with him they’d just be smushed into a thin paste from pressure alone. Even himself, once he thought about it; he was lucky he was malleable as he was.

Moving forward, the lynx placed one hand on the fraction of Spikes coming out of the door; almost immediately, the whole house creaked and groaned in response, Tim backing off when he expected to see the entire thing be blown sky-high thanks to a touch-induced growth spurt. When none such thing came to be, yet still with a non-insignificant amount of trepidation, he walked closer still, tracing the contours of the Renamon’s form until his knuckles found the cracked doorway.

He took a deep breath before sinking his fingers further into the plush warmth, throwing his arm further and further in, an attempt at getting as much leverage as possible, before shoving his second one inside as well; only after he was up to the shoulders did Tim try to push that ass out of the way, creating just enough room for him to quickly wiggle inside, before his strength failed him and his arms were clipped between the doorway and the wall within.

Not that the interior was any better. It was a second to transition from outside to inside, and a second to go from the wide-open, fresh-aired outdoors and an absolutely steaming sauna of fur and ass indoors. He was instantly surrounded on all sides by Rena; by Spikes, given that he was deeply acquainted with the way his lover’s body felt, the way it responded to his touch, the softness and texture of it. All around him, pressing him against a wall with such force that he could barely breathe, was Spikes and Spikes alone, having grown so much that it was a wonder there were even walls at all! Time could only imagine what black magic was keeping the house’s interior from crumbling under such an assault.

Not that any of this mattered, seeing as the lynx had better things to worry about. Things like how he could barely breathe, things like how his lungs had enough pressure on them that he might as well have had a constrictor snake wrap around his chest. Things like how he could feel that ass bulging out and growing even more as he tried to make his way closer to Spikes’ room, despite the fact that the walls remained as intact as ever.

There was clearly spatial fuckery going on, but he couldn’t be bothered to try and explain it: he needed to reach Spikes’ office room and find out just what the hell happened for… well, all of this. Tim could scarcely believe that the Renamon had grown that much while resisting the temptation of sending at least one picture, one text message implying that something had happened… though, the more he thought about it, the more Tim came to think that maybe that was the point.

After so many times when the Renamon had just told the lynx what to expect, what better way to ensure maximum effect than to leave them in the dark? What better way to ensure that Tim would have a great time than to refuse to divulge any information whatsoever, forcing Tim to walk in and see for himself? And, in that case, not just see: but to feel, to hear, to smell, to touch, to be forced to go through every sense as they were overwhelmed, one by one, until there was nothing left but the lynx’s interminable need to grab whole handfuls of ass in a mindless attempt to find the way out?

Except, of course, there was no way out: there was just more Spikes. And the further in Tim went, the more Spikes he would find, again and again, in an escalating and unending spiral of ass that would do nothing but build on itself for as long as Tim insisted on finding its source.

Or until the house finally gave way.