Unstoppable (Patreon Commission for VDOPlus)

TAGS: A VDO Story, Arcanines!, Growth/Expansion, Loving Couple, Macro/Macro Growth

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They normally took a while to get finished, so neither of them really gave it much thought when they climaxed for the third time that hour and felt no need to even so much a slow down. For Clara and Brad, it was par for the course, so much so that even their poor neighbours, who had by then learned to put on some noise-cancelling headgear whenever the Arcanine couple locked their bedroom door, knew better than to expect it to be over within such a short time period. And again, neither of the two Arcanines batted an eye with the digits rolled over to two and they weren’t at all the slightest bit tired; it was just normal for them to get into a groove like that one, and indeed the floor of their bedroom had drains installed in them for a very good reason. In between Brad’s almost supernatural levels of cum production and how milky Clara became, if they hadn’t splurged out on a proper system of pipes and pumps to ensure their home remained unflooded, then they wouldn’t have lasted a month, much less the three years they had been wasting making one another’s life the best it could possibly be. Really, it was the only way they could afford getting away with how loud they were; the couple was more than aware that, were they anything less than the best neighbours they could be, they would’ve been run out of the apartment block in no time flat. Alas, the two of them were so sickeningly sweet together that no one had the heart to lift a finger or to tell them off; all it took was for the two Arcanines to set up shop in the middle of the corridor leading to the front door, and things would fall into place like magic: Clara would call Brad her “best boy”, Brad would employ a variety of synonyms for “muffin”, and the sheer sappiness of it reached a critical point beyond which it was highly likely they might shatter the fabric of spacetime with how unnecessarily cutesy they were being. Yet, at the same time, it just came so naturally to them that, what would’ve been borderline intolerable in anyone else became not just acceptable, but downright desirable for them; the rest of the apartment block’s inhabitants were quick to learn this, having completely lost the ability to so much as want to complain. How could they possibly interfere in the life of a couple that was seemingly designed to work perfectly together? What right did they have to step up to them and say they were doing things wrong, when more often than not it was almost impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began… and quite literally, at times. The amount of fluff they shared between them bordered on the absurd, with Clara in particular having a tail so thick and luscious that she was more than capable of blocking entire hallways if she wasn’t careful; while Brad was more hunk that floof, he was still hirsute enough that anyone bumping into him would find themselves immersed in a whole new world of experiences, one where the only sensation allowed was bliss, the only activity permitted was snuggling, and the poor guy responsible for it wasn’t even aware that someone was onboard. It was the (un)fortunate reality of being as big as the two of them were; while hypers the world over might be blessed beyond the regular folk, Clara and Brad were… something else. Doctors had tried and failed to categorise them, and despite the best efforts of some of the more expensive research teams available to the public, no one could quite pin down what had allowed the two Arcanines to become as massive as they had, seemingly independently of one another. While their time together had absolutely helped to make them even bigger than they were before they met, this “before” was no slouch either: Brad might be close to twenty feet tall by that fateful morning, but he was already nearing fifteen when she met Clara, whose current twenty-three were the endpoint of a process that had begun when she barely hit past twelve, clearly the victor of the two. And not just in height either; while Brad was certainly packing below the waist, enough that he didn’t exactly have much room left between the legs, Clara was… something else entirely. The giantess Arcanine was well-endowed in the same way that the Sun was bigger than the Earth; other people, even other hypers, might be busty and curvaceous, but the way Clara wore her particular brand of assets was something unlike anything seen by mortalkind in just about the entire recorded history of there being hypers to begin with. Most of the space in front of her, ranging from her collarbone down to the floor, was completely taken up by a bust that was at once alarmingly intrusive and yet irresistibly inviting, calling to any who looked upon it to throw themselves onto or into it, to spend hours making good use of the warmest, softest bed imaginable. It was full as well; while the Arcanine never felt the need to drain herself, she never stopped making delicious, creamy milk, with most of it going… somewhere, she never quite figured out where that was. All she knew was that she was always producing, but this somehow never translated into her leaking unless she wanted to, which was mostly reserved for when herself and Brad wanted to do something a bit friskier in the bedroom where no one could see them. The end result was a pair of breasts larger than quite literally any other on the planet, adding to an overall body plan that could humbly be described as being excessive; it was hard to call it anything else, on account of how much space it took and how destructive it was to its surroundings… or, at least, how destructive it would be, were Clara not to exercise extra care when sashaying her double-door-wide hips around or sitting her bus-sized rump somewhere. In sharp contrast, all Brad had to worry about was the bulge he carried out in front, significantly easier to control and keep track of; almost as if to compensate, most of his effort had to go towards pulling his punches in anything he did, owing to his supernaturally well-developed bulk: if he wasn’t careful, he could easily rip doors off hinges along with most of the wall the frame was built into when trying to open them, and even when exercising only the minimal amount of strength, he still made them creak dangerously loudly; the couple had already gone through at least seven different front doors, to say nothing of how they eventually had to give up repairing the internal ones and settled for a completely open design. Apart, of course, from their bedroom. It wasn’t as if they needed to close the door; no one else lived in the house, and it certainly didn’t do anything to muffle all the noise. It was, however, symbolic: their love life was theirs and no one else’s, so for them to shut the door behind them before they did anything more involved than holding hands or snuggling was a sign that what they were about to do was something for them, and absolutely no one else. It served to spice things up in a way that only truly made sense to the both of them, and even then it was little more than a kickstarter, a small spark to light the raging inferno that would become their lovemaking. Because, ultimately, two people like Brad and Clara couldn’t just do things the way other people did; they were too big, too energetic, and above all, they loved one another too much to be anything less than stellar in making one another experience true blissful heaven on a bed. This, unfortunately for the neighbours and the building in general, translated into the two of them developing something of a predilection for experimentation, mostly when it came to “endurance training” and edging one another for hours and hours on end… or, more often than not, just going full tilt and seeing how long they could last before their bodies shut down entirely. That last one had a tendency to be what they turned out to do most of the time; after a while, nothing could quite compare to the simple, raw experience of just turning themselves on and letting the organic machinery do all the work for them while their conscious minds surfed the pleasure waves. Even when their muscle memory took over and they could barely even begin to control themselves, it was still the best experience they could’ve hoped for; to be there, with one another, for one another, until the universe outside of them ceased being, was all they could want and hope for, end of story… that, and it also made them grow, which was always a welcome addition. Most of the time, however, there was a limit; the two of them might be colossal and hyper-durable, but even they inevitably ran into a brick wall when it came to their stamina: no matter how long it took, they did find an end to it. Yes, it took more climaxes than most people would experience in an entire year spread across a single night, and yes, it would likely lead to the destruction of their bed (again), but they did find a point beyond which they couldn’t keep going. Which made it strange when, that night, they just didn’t. It was easy to ignore at first, as were most things when the two Arcanines got going and forgot that existence existed beyond one another’s gaze, but when the number of orgasms climbed to the high two digits and they couldn’t seem to find an end to their energy reserves, both Clara and Brad began wondering if something wasn’t dreadfully wrong with them. Then again, maybe “wrong” was not the right word to use, but definitely unusual at the very least; when they broke one hundred and seemed more rearing to go than before, that’s when Brad, in all of his aroused wisdom, decided that it was time to “finish it”, and started pounding away even harder than before. This accomplished very little beyond making the counter climb faster, and with each climax adding more size onto the two, even if just temporary, their bedroom was very rapidly filled up to the point where neither of them could truly move. Brad could keep bucking his hips and Clara could absolutely open her mouth and bathed the two in a shower of fire, but beyond that, the walls became constricting, a prison for them that neither Arcanine could bear to live with anymore. Never before had they grown so much that they literally brought the house down, but at that point, they had two options: stop and prevent the budding disaster from progressing any further, or keep going and see where it went. The former option, to put it frankly, wasn’t one: it existed because it had to exist, but at no point did it stand even the remotest chance of being selected. Brad refused to let Clara end the night unsatisfied, and Clara was determined to make her “best boy” experience the fullest and most delightful pleasures that her body could provide; together, this created a volatile cocktail that could only lead to their bedroom walls collapsing outwards, the ceiling caving in on their heads, and the whole building suddenly noticing that something was definitely off about that time. Few responded in time, and even those that did barely made it out of their front doors before the entire apartment block was wracked by another set of rumbling quakes, this time as a result of the two Arcanines finally having some room to exercise their live in; it didn’t become obvious until they were freed from their bedroom, but they absolutely needed all that space to properly express what they felt for one another, nevermind how this should’ve been obvious from the start. They had their bedroom and living room together now, and judging from how quickly they were expanding, the couple was about to add the kitchen and foyer to the mix, as well as the apartment above theirs! Not that the owners minded, of course; they might’ve been somewhat surprised at how their floors gave way without any warning, but they did end up falling into so much fluff that it hardly mattered. If they had met nothing but cold ground, then sure, maybe they would get slightly upset that Clara and Brad had lost control and wrecked through a large portion of a building where other people lived, but after getting a handful of fur and a faceful of direct contact with the Arcanines? Why, it was a wonder they could even think at all; within moments all of their conscious processes would be throwing their hands in the air and figuring it was best to stop worrying and enjoy what they’d been given, to give up thinking about silly things like “rent” or “food” and just focus entirely on how good it was to be on… who was it? It was hard to tell exactly who they were on, what with the conglomeration of fur and fuzz being such that, quite honestly, the newest passengers could be being jostled from Clara to Brad and back and they wouldn’t even begin to notice. And to them were added plenty others, as neither Arcanine seemed willing to slow down, let alone stop; without any delay between one orgasm and the next, it didn’t take them much longer before their bodies became insurmountably massive, impossibly so, bringing the whole building down on their heads before anyone could react to it. Those who were lucky enough to be out in the hallways when this happened would find themselves somehow scooped by the advancing tidal wave of red and orange fur, while the ones who remained indoors would quite simply fall onto the Arcanines, owing to them living on the ground floor and having nowhere to go but up and out… so, up and out they went. Why bother waiting when they could be throwing themselves into the thick of it instead? There they were, bigger than their home, soon to be bigger than the building it was in, so why do anything other than… more? There was a whole world out there, one who was desperate for relief from the troubles of everyday, mundane existence, and the two of them, blessed as they were with the power to fix that, should do everything in their power to provide the respite that all others sorely needed. If not, then at least they should give it their best try; it was the least they could do, all things considered. Granted, most people would try to get around to doing that through more conventional methods, such as solving hunger or stabilizing the planet’s geopolitical situation, but really, if one just squinted and looked at it sideways, wasn’t that what the Arcanine couple was doing in the end? By providing themselves as a body upon which to rest and reside, they were effectively eliminating homelessness wherever they passed; through their fluff, they were the purveyors of the utmost comfort, warmth and happiness, enough to overwhelm even the darkest of pits and elevate the blessed to a state more glorious than they ever thought possible. And, though neither of two were quite willing to just say it, the fact of the matter was that Clara produced more than enough milk to feed whoever wanted to climb aboard her body, more than enough to provide to those on Brad as well! Hyper-nutritious, bottomless and never-ending, it would serve as the perfect mannah of the gods for the little ones living with them, who would no longer want for anything; simultaneously, this would more or less cause any extant conflict to simply… cease. Who ever would have the time to argue about worldly affairs when they had someone like Brad or Clara there? Who among mortalkind had the patience to worry about how their governance was going when faced with the prospect of a Heaven, right there for them to join? It felt silly to think about anything other than climbing onto the Arcanines and following them wherever they may go, and just like that, this one infectious thought spread across the entirety of the world’s population, most of whom weren’t even aware of what was happening at all! It was as if something had changed in the basic coding of the universe, a constant tweaked so that particular nugget of information became something everyone knew, instinctively. It was impossible to explain through their civilization’s current understanding of physics, but then again, neither Clara nor Brad particularly cared about what was “possible” or what was an “affront to the fabric of spacetime”, a term they didn’t quite know the origin of, but somehow kept hearing on repeat inside their heads before pushing it aside. It wasn’t for them to worry about; surely, the universe would know how to adapt, as it had so many times before. Surely, if the two of them just kept going, then things would fix themselves, as indeed they had already; had they not been providing a service for the community, in every single community immediately around theirs already? And all they had to do was do what came naturally: hold one another and let nature take over, then just turn their brains off and enjoy the ride! No further effort required, just the openness of others to accept the gift they were given and ride the wave until they fell asleep and then woke up several hours later feeling fuller, fresher, and far more restored than they ever had in their lives before. And all that was required of them was momentum: the momentum to keep making love, the momentum for Brad to do what he did best and jackhammer with enough power to make the ground tremble, the momentum for Clara to moan and scream for more as her prodigious bust burst forth with milk, showering everything around the two even as the male Arcanine was swallowed by by cleavage. The momentum to grow and to keep growing, to experience climax every other second and yet keep going despite their complete lack of energy… one that, after a point, both of them realised wasn’t there at all. They should be exhausted, by all means, after everything they’d done, they had no right to want to keep going, much less be capable of doing so; but almost as if the universe had flipped on its head and inverted energy requirements, both Brad and Clara found that the more effort they expended, the more they wanted to keep going, and the more energised they felt to do so. They were both batteries becoming fuller and more charged with used, a blatant violation of just about every physical Law in existence, yet one that neither of the two lovers cared enough to think about, much less consider. It worked, it felt good, and as long as those two constants remained a constant, that’s all they really needed; no ifs, ands, or buts involved, just one long rutting session that seemed destined to never end, no matter how much time the two of them spent together or how many times Brad’s nuts clenched and painted Clara’s insides white. Well, her insides and everything else around the two as well; even they had their limits, and while his lover was stretchy enough to take most of what he gave her, Brad was still producing enough of his seed that it inevitably spilled out, backblasting into the outside world in copious enough quantities that anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the flood would find themselves washed up and splattered against a hard surface somewhere. That is, until the growing fluff mountains eventually grew big enough to reach them, at which point they’d get a face full of floof followed by the best ride of their life, never to end and always to improve upon itself. It was a testament to the sort of body that Clara had that her dairy spouts somehow managed to put even this to shame; Brad might try his best, and indeed he was doing just that, but he just couldn’t compete with the lactic geysers being jettisoned from both of his mate’s breasts, nor with the sheer volume of milk splashing all around the two. Even better was how he couldn’t see it either; maybe, if it had taken place just a couple of minutes prior, he would’ve had a good view of the first milk rains, but being stuck underneath what had to be a mile of cleavage in every direction, there was little he could do beyond hope for the best… and keep on thrusting, trusting in himself that things were going just fine. It was here, at this point, that the size difference between the two of them grew to become even more exacerbated; Brad had started off taller than Clara but was clearly not as capable of growth as she was, while the female Arcanine had taken the lead and refused to let go of it for as long as she physically could. Not out of a sense of desire, not because she wanted to be bigger, or even the biggest, but entirely because of Brad; she might not be the sort of person to go too wild in her predilections, but she knew how much her other half loved the curves on her, which could only mean the best thing she could do would be to put on even more of them! To grow, to thicken, to become more was to offer Brad what he most desired, and being a good mate, that was the least she could do for him; thus, it was altogether unsurprising that Clara found it in her to push herself to greater heights whenever she had the opportunity, at times driving herself to the brink of collapse as exhaustion hit and she refused to stop. At times she played into her role perhaps a bit too well, and ended up with a very tuckered-out fire pupper underneath her, eyes rolled up into his skull and body trembling after he failed to contain himself. But mostly, mostly it was just her becoming bigger: during sex, over time, something in between the two and without, just as long as she became larger, then she was doing her best to make Brad’s dreams come true. Thus, it only made sense that she carry on doing so now, even after it became clear that their nirvana had arrived and their personal heaven was there for them to experience; they couldn’t possibly climb any higher than they already had, but if that was the case, that meant Clara couldn’t give her precious little boy even more of herself, and that just wouldn’t do. If the universe told her she’d given all that she could given, her response, fittingly enough, was to demand more to give regardless; if the universe disagreed, or, so it help it, tried to physically stop her, then it better clear out of the way and start running, because no one stood in between the Arcanine giantess and her mate. Hence why, just a short couple of minutes after the two of them broke free from their home, the difference in size between Brad and Clara was… hard to gauge. Hard because Clara was bigger than the city she used to live in and growing bigger still with each moment, hard because Brad, despite clearly still being visible down below where his shaft kept pounding at his better half, was so unbelievably small compared to the sky-blotting pair of tits he was kept between that no one could truly gauge his size. Not that there were many people left to do so, once the growth started in earnest and Clara lost control over herself; all she had to do was relinquish her own self-restraint to the aether and suddenly her form barrelled over the landscape, sweeping up everything in its path and pulling it up onto the vast amounts of Arca-floof that adorned her body. Those lucky to be closest to the “front” of this avalanche would thus be given their own spot on top of Clara’s body, as even more space was created when she grew bigger still, until nothing remained of the world but herself, her glorious form, there for all to live upon forevermore. For while Brad held the spot of honour, as indeed only he could, Clara couldn’t just keep herself to her little pup; he got the best out of the deal, yes, but she was much too big not to share, and she was certain Brad understood that as well. If they could provide, they should; had that not been the logic behind most of their decisions already? The two of them had gone out of their way to be as helpful as possible to their neighbours whenever the opportunity arose, so if they could scale it up and make everyone their neighbour, then it stood to reason they should be as helpful to them as they were to the ones living in the old, by-then-pulverised apartment block. And what better way to help, what better way to provide than by being themselves, and growing, and billowing out, and becoming a living, breathing paradise for any and all who wished to live on it? Clara certainly didn’t mind, and judging by how Brad was only pounding into her harder with each moment, he absolutely didn’t either; thus, the titaness made the call: she was going to grow, and anyone who was close enough to her who wanted to hop aboard and forget about everything was perfectly free to do so. Not that she gave much of a choice to the little ones beneath her, given how she rolled over the landscape, but once she found where her bodily control functions were, Clara tried her best to give them one; she couldn’t stop herself from growing (at least, not without telling Brad to quit it, which she most certainly would not do), but she could wiggle and position herself so that, rather than flattening things on her expansive growth spurt, she’d instead merely cover them, arching her back just enough so that her body would replace the sky, those living underneath her now looking up at endless Arca-floof. The fur strands themselves were long that those who truly wanted could simply climb up a tall building, hold up their hands, and at some point something would come down to fetch them; be it pure dumb luck or the Arcanine goddess answering the prayers of her supplicants, no one really knew, but the fact of the matter was that it happened, and that was it at the end of the day. Somewhere above the heads of so many, a new realm was born, one where they would want for nothing, one where they could surrender their worries and live in eternal bliss, one they owed to the giantess in the sky (and her lovely little mate, stuck somewhere between her mountainous mammaries). It didn’t take long before the first great migrations began, and from there, it was only a couple of hours at best for civilization as it was known collectively decided to simply move towards the better place, the Arcanine giantess burgeoning outwards atop their planet. Why even remain on the planet, when they had a much better option right there? They could just move onto the Arcanine, leaving behind all non-essentials and turning her into their new, mobile world, one that would travel across the stars and provide endless Heaven for any who wished to join. Maybe there’d be life out there, maybe there wouldn’t, but the point was that it was open to any that might exist; the point was that Clara, the merciful goddess, the titaness, the giantess, existed to make sure everything and everyone around her was and felt the best they could, and if that meant providing for a never-ending paradise, if that meant turning herself into a divine platform upon which civilization could ascend to a higher plane, then it was just the next logical step in a process that had begun when she first met Brad.

Brad, her lovely little pup, her precious Arca-hunk, still dutifully bucking his hips, still spending so much energy that he became a living violation of thermodynamics. She could barely even feel him within her bust, but could definitely still feel him where it mattered; it was as if he never grew any smaller, no matter how much bigger she became compared to him, enough so that she began wondering if his cock wasn’t swelling disproportionately to the rest of him. She couldn’t tell, obviously; she might be a goddess, but she did have a whole wall of boob in front of her that had, by that point, grown to outsize the planet, making it slightly harder than normal to see anything other than… well, herself. But she was sure he was having his fun, and more than certain he wouldn’t be stopping any time soon. And, to be fair, neither would she; Clara still had plenty more to give, and wasn’t about to run out now that she could snap her fingers and simply reset her energy reserves. And if that wasn’t enough, then she had a whole star right there for her to take, and if that proved insufficient, then she could move onto the rest of the universe.

The two of them were not, after all, done. Hell, they hadn’t even begun properly.

They still had so much more to give to one another.