Tethered and Chained - Part 2 (Patreon Commission for ShrapnelTheWolf)

TAGS: Hyper/Hyper Growth, Restrained/Bondage, Extreme Growth, Multi

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He blinked. For a moment there, he almost felt like he was about to go on a rant on how unfair it was that he was strapped to restraints and forced to grow, as opposed to appreciating the gift that he’d just been given. Probably all the pheromones in the air; he was known to make poor decisions when he was horny, doubly so when he had every button on his control panel slammed down on with such gusto by someone as shameless as Elizabeth. Thankfully, he caught himself before he expressed anything other than complete gratitude… though, to be fair, it was hard to express anything at all when he had his muzzle covered and his throat blocked.

Mercifully for Shrapnel, his active participation was not required! All that was needed of him was his ability to hold very still and allow himself to be thoroughly dominated by someone who could crush his back with a single breast, and that, that he was something of an expert in. Plus, with his cock emerging from its sheath and into the suction cup, which turned out to be surprisingly stretchy all things considered, the time for thinking was quickly ending; he’d be expected to do naught but thrust soon enough. Then he could finally relax.

Liz certainly seemed happy, or at least she was content enough with how her tricks turned out that she felt cackling like a mad scientist was an appropriate response. Maybe, Shrapnel thought in one of his last moments of lucidity, he should’ve been more worried about that… and the autoinjector she was carrying in one of her hands out of nowhere. But chemicals always had a way of working out for the best in that house (or, well, their house; Shrapnel had no idea where he was), so why try and resist? It was probably just a virility booster anyway, and he’d taken so many of those already that they probably accounted for a tenth of his body weight.

The sting came and went, and with it the sensation of warmth that, as usual, spread through his veins until the wolf’s entire body felt as if it were bathed in a hot bath; it was that exact temperature where his brain knew that it was too hot, but his common sense pointed out that all he had to do was sit still for a moment and he’d almost immediately acclimate. Uncomfortable, for just a moment, until his form melted into a proverbial puddle and Shrapnel became unable to hold his tongue in his mouth any longer.

Liz said something about panting, then something about drooling; Shrapnel wasn’t really listening, despite him really wanting to. It was an unfortunate product of the sort of body and mind he’d been terribly cursed with: when horny, nothing came through. Nothing but himself, and the sensations that came with it, the notion that his shaft was about as long as he was tall and only getting longer with every second that passed, the realisation that his nuts were mere inches off the ground and filling at an alarming rate.

Once again, he had become a living time bomb, one waiting for the opportune moment to burst and cover the local area with enough spunk to forcefully ingrain the white into every surface. Except, there would be no spillage; Shrapnel always expected there to be, but he had Elizabeth there to take care of it, in some way or another. Curiously, the serval hadn’t ever resorted to a fully automated setup before; parts of the process had definitely been offloaded onto machines on other occasions, but to have him be fully at the mercy of soulless machinery was definitely… new.

Not unwelcome though. It wouldn’t be the first thing on his list of priorities, but now that he found himself in that position, Shrapnel found it oddly comforting: Elizabeth was still in control, so there was that covered, and he had his dick ready to be milked dry of every last ounce of cum inside of him, so that was the second condition fulfilled; anything beyond this point was nothing but bonuses, and given the amount of holding tanks ready to be filled, there was likely to be a great deal of bonuses by the time Elizabeth was done with him.

The chemicals though, those were barely getting started. The wolf had no clue what they were supposed to do, but given they came from Elizabeth, they could only be there to do good. At least, he assumed as much; he wasn’t quite right in the head anymore, not with the hormone cloud wafting from her, not with his dick being actively tugged on by a vacuum pump after reaching nearly seven feet in length and nearly three in width. He could barely think at all; thinking was for people whose minds were in one piece and had the spare processing power to go through anything other than the sensory overload of being in Shrapnel’s position. He had a pleasure center taking up the entirety of the inside of his skull.

And really, he wouldn’t have it any other way. It spared him from having to waste time on frivolous things, allowing him to focus entirely on what mattered: cumming his brains out. Not like he was using them anyway, so he could get rid of all the bits that were no longer necessary; just as long as he could experience pleasure and have his dick and balls function properly, that was all he needed!

That said, it was taking some time for him to achieve full release. Usually, by that point, he’d have already burst open and flooded a good dozen feet around him in a thick blanket of white, but for some reason, he found himself struggling to even get a single load out. There was plenty of pre to go around, but apart from that, anything more substantial had yet to arrive… though something else definitely did.

The sense of pressure was the first indicator that something was off about whatever was happening. He’d never felt it before; regular pressure, sure, but this one was more akin to something trying to push out from inside him, almost like he had some sort of sprout eager to break through his skin… or, to be more precise, his sheath. In some remote part of his brain, maybe Shrapnel knew what that meant; maybe he just didn’t want to put any thought into it, preferring the blissful ignorance leading to a surprise than the certainty of knowing what was about to happen.

Whatever the case, his eyes went wide enough when he turned his head down towards his groin that they looked ready to pop out of their sockets.

His sheath was never the smallest, but it was only ever designed to house one dick, no matter how massive it got. He’d seen that thing in all manner of sizes, from the mostly just exaggerated to the absolutely gargantuan, but the one constant was that it only had one cock inside of it, ready to emerge and plow into whatever mega-tittied serval happened to be closest. Thus, when he saw a second shaft poking out from just above his first one, he was at a loss for words; what was he even supposed to say now that he had two cocks on him? Beg for Elizabeth to cut him loose so he could fuck her until she was barely able to walk?

Because he really wanted to. But alas, the gag… and the fact that he’d forgotten how to use words.

What came out of him at that moment was less a moan and more a disorganised series of whimpering sounds that could charitably be described as semi-coherent. Tears flowed from his eyes as he tried, in vain, to free himself from the cables holding him from the ceiling; the chains attached to him rattled from the effort as the wolf put his all into it, only to get nothing in return. He did try to look up at Elizabeth, at his angel, at the one person who could still free him from his torment; if there was anyone there who could give him what he wanted, it was her: just turn the keys, or… undo the locks? Something, anything to let him be free so he could do what had to be done!

But she just smiled. She stood there, her tits tantalisingly close to his face, and she smiled. It was dishonest too: there was no friendliness there, no statement of familiarity, nothing but the clear and present truth that she was in control, and there was nothing he could do to turn that around. Whatever was needed to break open the restraints, she would decide when it happened, not him, and clearly, she had no intention of letting him go any time soon. He was going to stay there like a good boy and not say a single thing: just moan, whine, moan some more, and cum his sweet little heart out until there was nothing left inside of him.

Or, as it turned out, he was going to remain painfully dry (for his standards, at least) as even more dicks sprouted from inside of him. Maybe he thought it was over, but if that was the case, then he’d be sorely wrong; the chemicals coursing through his veins clearly had different ideas on what should happen to him, because obviously two shafts weren’t enough. He obviously needed a third one to grow in, creating a pyramid formation of cocks in an overstretched sheath, and of course he required a fourth one to make up a quad. And hell, why not throw in a fifth for good measure? Five dicks, a veritable bouquet, and not a single person to use them on!

… plenty of tubes though. Shrapnel didn’t notice when they showed up, but the original suction cup, somehow still attached to his first member despite it encroaching on ten feet of length, had been joined by several more, each one neatly closing in on his extra rods. It felt oddly comfortable, in a way, like he was meant to have those things on him. They weren’t even actively pumping him either; he assumed they had been, but the machinery hadn’t yet kicked into action. Oddly enough, the cups themselves looked to be bigger than they were before… but maybe that was just his imagination. Definitely his imagination. Couldn’t be the alternative.

Through all of this, Elizabeth still stood there, on the same spot, still with the same smile, still staring at him like she wasn’t torturing the poor pup with the worst that her mind could come up with. It took a special kind of evil to employ that brand of denial on Shrapnel, even more so on account of Liz knowing him to be especially susceptible to it. She, above all others, had the obligation to know that he was incapable of holding back, and that any attempt at forcing him to do so would only make things worse; she, above all others, should have known better.

Which is why, ultimately, she did what she did.

The only way to truly get Shrapnel to go all out, the only way she could force the wolf to stop fucking around and actually employ his full repertoire for once, was to put him in a situation where he had no other choice but to do so. The serval couldn’t claim to be unsatisfied, but, at the same time, she was painfully aware that, despite Shrapnel’s insistence to the contrary, he was not giving her everything he could be.

It was unlikely to be malicious, but more a result of him knowing better than to lose control on purpose. He was silly like that, always thinking about consequences and what his actions would do in the long run; it took a lot of effort on her part to get him to stop worrying him so much, but even then Liz still had to take a few extra steps to make sure her pup was going the right way. She had to take some drastic measures to stop that constant, pesky thinking of his that always led to him deciding to do stupid things, like not doing stupid things.

Thankfully, it was easy enough to switch off, especially once the extra dicks came out. Bit of a special touch on her end, though she’d never admit to doing it on purpose; the concoction she pumped into Shrapnel was only supposed to give him one manhood more than the usual, so she had no clue where the other three came from, nor why the effect hadn’t gone further into the wolf’s nuts like it was supposed to. Then again, those things had bloated hard enough to cover a good fourth of the warehouse floor anyway, so why complain?

Instead, she should be giving him more! Each shaft was already encroaching on twenty feet anyway, so clearly they needed more; Liz wasn’t going to be satisfied until every one of those five was so enormous that even her stretchy self wouldn’t be able to take it all, and given how much dick she had inside her on a regular basis, this was saying far more than even she understood. Thankfully, there was plenty of concentrated pheromone where the first dose came from, so a handful of injections later, Elizabeth stepped aside and let fate take the wheel.

What followed was difficult for her to describe. The system was designed such that Shrapnel’s restraints would automatically be moved back along the ceiling rails whenever the motion sensors picked up on any “intrusions” close enough to the pressured glass tanks. This was supposed to keep the wolf from getting too close to the containers meant to hold his spunk, and even in her wildest projections, Elizabeth only predicted a few inches of movement every few seconds or so. Quite fortunately for her, whatever it was she gave Shrapnel definitely agreed with him, seeing as he shot backwards several feet almost instantly after she was done giving him the final dose!

Only after he was repositioned did the serval understand what had happened: in just a few moments, each of Shrapnel’s cocks had skyrocketed in size, easily blowing past a hundred feet in length with their knots crowding against one another, forcing the system to do its best to keep the holding tanks from being completely destroyed. But in the time it took for Liz to realise this, the wolf had already grown even more: hundred and fifty feet, his veiny shafts throbbing and pulsating visibly as the suctions struggled to keep holding onto them; two hundred, with most of the space around him being dominated by wolf knot. Two-fifty, and suddenly Elizabeth felt very cramped in her little spot near one of the corners of the warehouse.

But it wasn’t enough. Three hundred, that was her minimum; not for any particular reason, but only because she appreciated a nice, round number when she wanted to do something ridiculously dangerous like stuffing her tits full of cum. After all, that was the only way things were ever going to end; it wasn’t as if Liz was going through all of that trouble only to turn around at the last moment and suddenly declare things were fine the way they were and Shrapnel could just go home.

No, she wanted him, and she wanted everything he could give her. She wanted to see him explode, cover the warehouse in his cum, and she wanted to take every last drop and stuff it into herself: tits, mouth, muff, ass, anything, just as long as she got to fill herself up with her mate’s productive seed. Then, and only then, could she finally give herself the kind of body she always desired… and it only took stretching five cocks out to three hundred feet, bowing out the back of a warehouse with a pair of balls heavy enough to bend steel out of shape, and enough pressurized glass tanks to hold a breeder farm’s output for several weeks.

Even that wouldn’t be enough though. A simple flick of her wrist was enough for the machinery to whirr into motion, eager to serve its mistress; a flick of her wrist, and suddenly all five of Shrapnel’s knots flared out in unison, the stimulation provided by the now-active suction cups enough to drive the wolf to the edge and flying past it in a matter if seconds. There was no build-up: there was only Shrapnel, already close to bursting, and Shrapnel, non-sentient cum dispenser; the binary state had been flicked, and now Liz was going to learn why what she did was a terrible, terrible idea.

For most other people. For her, the sight of dozens of glass tanks filling up in a fraction of the time she expected them to was nothing if not the best gift she could’ve ever received. Having gone through the calculations dozens of times, the serval was nothing if not ecstatic that her calculations were entirely incorrect and Shrapnel was producing so much more than she had in mind that the whole system was blaring with alarms in every single panel. The warehouse itself was bathed in a red light, a distant siren going off to alert the general populace of the incoming disaster… and Elizabeth, she stepped forward.

She was going to take it.

It didn’t matter to her that she shouldn’t, or that her body wasn’t prepared for it. What mattered was that Shrapnel had produced a few thousand gallons of cum in the matter of mere seconds and she wanted it. Her body was elastic, she could take it; not like she wasn’t already stretching herself out to capacity and beyond on a regular basis, what with the wolf’s incessant need to dump enough cum in her to make her body look like a balloon. What was another filling compared to the dozens she’d been on the receiving end of?

A clap of the hands, and a thicket of tubes descended from the tangle up above in the rafters. The warehouse’s structure rattled, a veritable earthquake shaking it to its non-existent foundations, but she didn’t care; if anything, the warehouse no longer being there gave her more room to bloat into, which was perfect fine as far as the serval was concerned; just as long as those two injector ports remained firmly attached to her nipples, she had everything she could ever want.

So she flicked the switch, and instantly regretted it. Liz knew there was a substantial amount in there; she could see the holding tanks, and Shrapnel, and his quintet of four-hundred-foot dicks, and his two wall-crushing balls. She could see the odometers breaking apart as they failed to properly count the amount of fluid in each tank. She saw it all, and she knew that doing anything other than putting the injectors down would be a terrible idea. But she flicked the switch anyway, and in that terrible moment before enlightenment came, there was regret.

For a moment.

Then the moment passed, and like every other, there was nothing but bliss. For the remainder of her time, the one constant in Elizabeth’s mind was that she, the serval, was no longer there; she had underestimated just how much her pup could give her, and the price she paid was no longer being able to exist in the state she used to. She was something better now: the manifestation of her lust, the avatar of desire and self-indulgence, and the utmost representation of everything that she’d fought to accomplish with Shrapnel for years at that point.

But mostly, she was just very big.

The first thing to happen with the onslaught of wolf spunk was that, put simply, her tits blew right past the walls on the warehouse; the opposite ones from where she stood, that is, far enough away that she’d need to walk for a bit to get there. The second thing to happen was that her body clearly was not capable of holding onto so much extra stuffing in just two breasts, so it had to make more: the second set came in just an instant after the first one destroyed the roof of the warehouse, then the third, then the fourth and sixth, until Elizabeth was lying on a bed of her tits before even realising how quickly she’d grown to encompass everything around her.

The warehouse was no longer there, and the injector ports were no longer powered, but that was hardly an important factor when Shrapnel was still outputting. He still had the suction cups on, and through a long and convoluted series of plastic tubes, they were still connected to at least two of Elizabeth’s tits, and that was all the system needed: a direct hotline. Pressure alone would take care of the rest, as Shrapnel’s production reached such an apex that it literally couldn’t be output fast enough.

It was a race now, between the serval’s breasts, and the two nuts filling them up. The wolf’s shafts were somewhere in the middle, still growing with every heartbeat as a consequence both of the chemicals in his bloodstream and the impossibly thick cloud of serval scent in the air, but those were hardly comparable to the conglomerations of orbs around them. On one side, a throne of tits, stuffed with an unholy mixture of cum and milk; on the other, the two cumtanks responsible for the stuffing, each one about as large as the entirety of Elizabeth’s body.

There was no way for it to stop now. In a single instant, with a single decision and a single bad call, it was all over for the two of them… that is, for their old lives, at least. They were in no danger, ultimately; everyone else was, and they’d be lucky if they could run away before the two budding giants got to them, but Shrapnel and Elizabeth themselves couldn’t possibly be any safer: the former was trapped between two soft groups of orbs, and the latter was riding the high atop a set of multi-tits so vast that she couldn’t even see where they started curving downwards. They were her horizon and her world, and even if she was just vaguely aware of how big they were, this limited understanding was all she needed to lose her mind.

Liz was still there, in the same sense that Shrapnel was there as well. Both of them were alive and well, and both of them were “conscious”, though not exactly aware of what their surroundings were, or what they were even doing. They knew they were big and that their bodies were still growing, they knew they were crushing through terrain at a pace too quick for it to be healthy, but they were still alive, so that was the important thing; as long as they were fine, they could continue to fill and be filled, they could carry on feeling the high, they could keep on experiencing true heaven.

And for Elizabeth, she could keep lusting for more.

That was her one overriding drive. It quite literally did not matter that she’d broken the warehouse apart, smashed the glass tanks, and was by then larger than most suburbs, she needed more. Shrapnel was still producing, therefore, it was her right to take all of it. She didn’t care whether or not it was impossible, she was getting all five of his dicks inside her nipples and letting the wolf fill her directly; if she had to command the universe itself to rearrange their bodies so this could happen, she would do just that, and the universe would listen if it knew what was good for it.

Poor Shrapnel, who simply lay there, insensate, unknowing, incapable of understanding, could only ever feel the rising pressure and hope the next pump would alleviate it. It wouldn’t, but he could hope; it was about the last thing left that he could do. Moving was out of the picture, and not just because he was literally immobile; how could he ever do that to Elizabeth, who deserved everything and more that he could give her? If he moved, that meant he couldn’t stuff her anymore, and if he couldn’t stuff her, that meant she wouldn’t be getting any bigger!