Twitter Winner - December 2021

TAGS: Growth/Expansion, Giant/Macro, Destruction, Planet Macro, Excessive Cum, Messy

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Having to work overtime was never a good time, but having to do so while suffering from severe sexual deprivation turned an already bad experience into an almost unbearable one. There were few things on this world which would leave Tiramisu feeling as shit as he did then, but going for weeks without fucking someone definitely ranked up there with the greats, unfortunately enough. As he stared down his stack of paperwork and wondered what it would be like to not have to deal with a departmental inspection that had his bosses more worried than an IRS audit, Tiramisu had a hard time actually focusing on what he was supposed to be doing; punching numbers into a database was difficult to accomplish when his mind was so hellbent on thinking about jacking off, or going to a bar to find the first person willing to go home with him. Hell, thinking about anything at all, in fact, was downright impossible when he could practically feel his nuts pulsating with every heartbeat, desperate for release as his cock struggled against the much-too-tight denim of his jeans. There was something to be said about being able to feel his shaft travel down his right pant leg while most of his brain was preoccupied with conjuring new ways to satisfy his urges; something to be said, though not there, not in the middle of the office where people could actually see him… presumably. There was maybe a time when Tiramisu would have immediately balked at the notion of ever being even remotely lewd in public, let alone doing so in a way that would leave him compromised and at the mercy of his own arousal when it was least controllable. Yet, the longer he went without any stimulation, and the longer he remained sitting there looking at a stack of papers that refused to get any smaller, the more he felt like he was about to burst. Looking around, all he saw were not people, but potential mates, all dressed up work attire, all desperate for someone to fill them up and bend them over a table, not necessarily over that order. He was sweating, unable to hold it in any longer, and it wouldn’t be more than a few minutes more before he began hyperventilating, mostly when he felt the tip of his rod encroach upon his knee. Tiramisu knew that if he were to look down, he’d be able to see the outline of his cock, set perfectly against his jeans, bulging out and begging to be released from its prison; he knew he would never be able to resist doing so, and still being on the clock, thus forced himself to keep looking forward, lest he do something stupid he couldn’t take back. The seconds felt like they were slowing down with each one, every minute that passed taking twice as long as the one that came before; the universe conspired to keep him locked in his cubicle, away from anything and anyone that could fix his problem, alone and isolated from a world of solutions he could employ, forever to suffer at the hands of an uncaring cosmic overlord intent on keeping him blue-balled for all of eternity. He would never leave, that much he was certain; this was his hell, his sysyphean task, and when the stars ran cold and existence itself faltered and waned, he would still be there, staring at a computer screen and inputting numbers on a database… and then his watch beeped. Awoken from his stupor, Tiramisu suddenly found himself staring at his computer monitor, his work program still open, with the rush of people getting up from their seats signalling that their shift had mercifully come to an end. Scanning the bottom right for a clock and seeing the oh-so-beautiful 17:30 in tiny letters, he couldn’t be happier; rushing to get to his feet Tiramisu practically knocked half of his cubicle upside down in his mad dash to get out of there as quickly as he could, knowing that his long torment was finally at an end: it was his day off the next next day, and with it being the one the inspectors came along, he could rest easy knowing he was going to come back to the office to a much more reduced workload… and a far emptier sack if he had anything to say about it. The wolf barely made it out of the building before his right hand was busy rubbing over the bulge running down one of his legs, no longer caring whether or not people saw him or knew how horny he was; maybe he did, a few seconds earlier, but now that he was free he no longer had any shits left to give, hence why he openly stroked and caressed himself as he slowed down to a crawl in the middle of the sidewalk, his legs trembling while the rest of his body ran cold and hot in rapid succession. The world around him blurred, eyes unable to focus properly while sweat poured down from his brow, further obscuring his vision; he should’ve been quicker, should’ve kept himself from even going near his dick, should’ve done a great number of things that wouldn’t have left him a hot and bothered mess in the middle of a public road, but alas, there he was, staring down at several ripped seams and a shaft that insisted on making itself known to the world, along with a pair of cantaloupe-sized nuts who decided the best thing they could do was break through the denim keeping them decent and start bloating in preparation for the release. He smiled; it was out of his hands though, as far as the wolf was concerned, entirely outside his ability to make decisions on. He didn’t make the rules, he just followed them: he was horny, therefore, he had to do something about it, nevermind how this was entirely his fault to begin with. He needed to get off, after so many days without an opportunity to do so, and it hardly mattered that he was out and about in public where everyone could see him; as far as Tiramisu was concerned, his job was to help his body achieve the release it deserved, the release it needed, and if that meant putting his abilities to use even if it wasn’t exactly the best of times to do so. He tried his best not to lose control, but it was… difficult, even under the best of circumstances, given what he could actually do if he put his mind to it. Who else could claim to be able to reshape themselves as well as he did? Who else could claim to have as much control over their form as Tiramisu did over his? Perhaps the worst part of not getting any release in so long was that he couldn’t grow out either, as he had no reason to do so, not on his schedule; all he could do was fantasize about it, which only made it worse whenever he felt like he was getting close to being off the leash. It was bad enough that he was already big by nature, having perfected his form at what he felt was best for an “everyday” frame: standing at an imposing eight feet tall and built like a brickhouse, he was intimidating regardless of whatever room or company he happened to be in or near, and while he made the effort to try and be as pleasant as possible most of the time, he secretly relished any opportunity he had to be the big bad wolf that everyone was scared of… mostly when he was too horny to think straight, such as right there and then. It overrode any concerns he had or might have had for anything remotely resembling subtlety or tact, and replaced them with one primary directive: get off. Both hands on his cock now, which had been released into the wild for anyone to gawp at, the wolf had to take a few steps back to anchor himself against the side of the nearest building, unable to hold back any longer as he stroked his shaft in full view of every bystander within several dozen feet in almost every direction. Soon, his clothes would begin to strain, when his growth began in earnest; it was always slow to pick up at first, but all it took was a reason, a motivation, for Tiramisu to subconsciously order his body to start picking up the pace, as he lacked any and all patience whenever he felt the sweet serotonin release that came with every inch gained in height or bulk. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, it was all the wolf could do to keep himself from howling, and even then he had his jaw wide open and ready to let loose anyway; it was doubtful that he’d successfully hold back within the next five or so minutes, but by then, there was hardly any reason for him to care anymore. By then, he wouldn’t just be eight feet tall, nor would his cock merely be the size of his arm, nor even would his nuts be hanging in the air… but that was for then. For the moment, for the now, Tiramisu’s main concern was getting everything out of his system, a good couple of weeks of being pent up, now about to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting world, ignorant of what was to come. More mass was needed, more of himself, and as such the wolf simply willed more of him to exist; he could do so with but a thought, desirous as he was to become ever greater and more magnificent, no longer caring about keeping his true abilities under wraps so no one would think him to be some kind of weapon of mass destruction. For years he’d wondered what it would take for him to finally snap and do it all in public, and as it turned out, all it took was him going for long enough without getting laid; it was depressingly simple, yet it was with a savage grin that the wolf brought both hands to bear on his colossal pillar of cockmeat, leaking profusely onto the ground and all-but forcing several onlookers to move back in order to avoid getting caught in the splash. Not that Tiramisu particularly cared; by then, he had already pushed himself a few upwards, having broken the two digit barrier with nonchalant ease, now working towards getting there in width as well. Hot, heavy breaths escaped from him, his throat practically burning, his muscles definitely so as he ran the gamut of emotions that he’d had to keep repressed for the sake of his job over the previous fortnight: every errant thought, every errant fantasy, every moment where he had to stamp down on his horny side and pretend that it wasn’t there, again and again until he was left a quivering mess spurting a good couple of gallons of precum with every shot that came out of turgid shaft. With every breath, he grew larger, inch after inch after foot gained as if it was nothing, his body swelling outwards at an increasingly rapid pace. Down below, the weight of it caused plentiful damage to the street itself: whenever the wolf had to move a paw, it would crack the pavement or outright cave it in, exposing the pipes underneath. Behind him, any motion was enough to strip large chunks from the facade of the building he was using as a back rest, entire cinderblock-sized pieces of it crashing on the ground below from an ever greater height. Wouldn’t take more than a handful of minutes of this before Tiramisu was ripping apart hundreds of pounds’ worth of construction material without even trying, the rubble raining down on the fleeing crowd underneath him, all without the wolf really considering what he was actually doing. He knew people would be safe, or at least assumed they would be and carried on from there; anything else was entirely secondary as far as he cared, just as long as he got to keep stroking his dick. His cock, his shaft, a member of immense girth that insisted on thickening even more than the rest of him; perhaps, he thought to himself in his brief moments of lucidity, as a result of him having gone without stimulation for so long that it had begun to overcompensate. It certainly felt like something he would do, made some sense, but the wolf was too busy dealing with the consequences of having a cock about half as big as his torso to begin with to really debate the philosophical fine points of the entire scenario. He was horny, he was growing, his nuts were already scratching the floor from how full they were, and that’s all that mattered; everything else was secondary to achieving climax, and if he had to grow so much that he could accidentally stamp cars flat when he wasn’t paying attention, then that was just the cost of business as far as he was concerned. If people didn’t want him to go on a rampage like that, maybe they shouldn’t have kept him blue-balled for so long; he did tell his employer that he had certain needs, and now the entire building was being scraped off the surface of the planet, one layer at a time, because they wouldn’t listen. Now they got to watch as their precious office block was turned to dust because they kept him on the clock for far longer than they should have, and the wolf, absent any reason to give a singular damn about what his employers thought anymore in his state of heightened arousal, was bereft of any reason not to go full-out. He’d already destroyed multiple vehicles, potentially racked up thousands, if not tens of thousands in damages all around, and he had barely begun; he was still leaking pre, nowhere close to a proper climax, nor did he have any intention of rushing to the finish line. Two weeks without cumming? Oh, he was going to enjoy himself, every second of the way, even if that killed him. He was going to savour every last inch, every last drop, until he was roaring with unbridled, poorly-contained carnal ecstasy, overwhelming and overflowing, with the whole city there to listen to him on his way up to the heavens. He was already started: his head was close to his workplace’s tenth storey, and he was showing no signs of stopping either; hell, he was actually speeding up as far as anyone could tell, in between trying to run away and fighting back against an urge to turn around and stare at the burgeoning colossus. The roaring, the rumbling, the stamping of paws, the avalanche of precum, all of it; bystanders by the dozens were left unable to decide whether to turn around and sprint… or worship their new god. Many of them had never even given half a thought to the notion of religious worship, but when faced with a constantly-growing, seemingly omnipotent titan whose main drive was to splurge all over the city as if no one else was there, what else could they do? Terror, sure, panic and all that, but what was that thing if not a deity in the flesh? At least, their brains told them that much; it was entirely possible that what they were experiencing was in fact some sort of automatic reaction inherent to all living creatures, that to look upon the unknown and proclaim it to be a god of sorts. It could be that the wolf was just a regular wolf, albeit one possessed of powers that no one else had demonstrated before; growers were a thing, even if they didn’t ever reach sizes like those. But as Tiramisu continued to pack on height, bulk and nut weight, as his cumtanks rumbled aggressively and his cock coated everything in front of him in a thick, pasty layer of white, there was very little room left for interpretation, and even less the longer it went on and he grew larger still; there seemed to be no end to him, no limit to how much mass he could seemingly siphon from nowhere at all, no upper cap to how colossal his body could turn out to be. Indeed, just a few minutes into his growth spurt and he wasn’t rubbing against his old workplace as much as he was sitting on it, using its roof as improvised leverage so he wouldn’t have to constantly slip on the endless amounts of spunk down below. Of course, the rest of the world wasn’t nearly as resistant to the change as the wolf himself was; he might be able to withstand the titanic forces involved in making him so big, but the city around him absolutely wasn’t, and neither was the building he happened to be sitting on. It only took a few moments for him to grow big enough that what remained of the structure crumbled beneath him, turned to dust as it collapsed downwards in a near-perfect vertical drop, causing Tiramisu to smash down as well. The tremors were felt throughout the city proper, drawing eyes towards the source of them and causing fears of earthquakes to spread like wildfire; it took some time before the rumours of a “growing giant” began to filter outside the downtown area, and even longer before anyone took them seriously, leaving most right-thinking folk entirely unprepared for the anomalous event that was the wolf’s ascension. And amidst all this, Tiramisu was still blissfully unaware of any of this, being far too concerned with enjoying every moment to care much about anything else; even if it directly related to what he was doing, he couldn’t bring himself to care, not from malice, not from an undeserved sense of superiority, but because he hadn’t cum yet. The longer he went without a climax, the harder it became to formulate any thought that didn’t directly relate to getting off, and the harder his cock became, the more difficult it was to justify spending any amount of mental resources on anything deemed secondary… and, past a certain point, everything was secondary. As long as it wasn’t breathing and keeping his body technically functional, it could be shoved off into the “things to do later” pile, hence why Tiramisu so eagerly plowed his way through downtown with no regard for his personal safety or the consequences of his actions. For him, there was no tomorrow to consider; it wasn’t as if he was going back to normal after this sort of size explosion, much less return to anything resembling a regular routine, not after exposing himself in such a manner. There was no future ahead of him that didn’t involve remaining at a colossal size, or at least at a large enough one that he would have to change the way he lived, by necessity if nothing else. He could see himself already: towering over the little ones scrambling at his paws, barely able to see anyone or make them apart from the ground, taken by a boundless lust that would serve as an eternal engine, keeping him fired up for as long as he could retain even the slightest amount of arousal. A cock, forever hardened, a pair of balls eternally stuffed and churning, yet never left unsatisfied; it’d be a perpetual climax, and one that he would enjoy every single moment of, nevermind what it did to everything and everyone around him. He’d already collapsed one building, what were a couple more? All he needed to do was wave his cock from side to side or move around in his bid to find anything solid to lean on and he’d leave a trail of destruction behind him, avenues turned into funnels for the floating debris, the air filled with the remains of obliterated structures, rumbling so loudly with the crumbling of concrete and cracking of glass that even the panicked honking of thousands of vehicles could barely be heard. But none of it mattered; no matter how much effort anyone put into attempting to escape, they would never manage to get far enough away for it to matter, for the wolf could merely outgrow whatever method anyone could come up with. Cars? Too slow. Trains? Not enough of them to matter. Planes? Well, there wasn’t an airport around, and even if there was, he could simply pluck the aircraft from the sky as effortlessly as he would swat a fly. No one would escape, no one could escape, and they would learn to love it. For there was nothing better in Tiramisu’s eyes than to be with him, than to be given the chance to exalt him for however long anyone could… or rather, he would think that, if he still had the ability to produce coherent thoughts that didn’t have to do with cumming as hard as he could at every step of the way. It wasn’t his fault of course, it was just that his body was designed to be that way; other people were good at whatever it was they put their mind to, and he just so happened to be exceedingly proficient at growing. Bigger and bigger, ever higher and more resplendent, until a single paw was enough to cover the entirety of a city block, capable of flattening it into a thin pancake of dust and bits of loose plaster while anything bigger was reduced to its constituent components. He didn’t even realize he was doing it either; it was in his nature to simply follow his instincts, and as soon as he broke the first kilometer in height, there weren’t a great many instincts left that didn’t directly relate to him wanting to be even bigger. It had become a self-sustaining reaction, in that there was no real limit to how far he could go beyond any that he imposed himself, and lacking any sense of self-restraint had all-but assured that the wolf would just keep going until he found a physical hard cap to his size surge, assuming there even was any at all. In the meantime, he would just get bigger, and with that came a host of problems for everyone and everything else; it didn’t help that he was still openly stroking his cock and very clearly aroused beyond measure, since now this meant that even the smallest of pre spurts was enough to clog entire streets, and the bigger splatters often coated entire districts in a thick layer of clear fluid. It was a prelude to a proper load, and one that everyone present knew would wipe the city clean, but alas, there was no way to escape it; maybe, had they been given advance warning, they could’ve organized an evacuation, but now that they were caught with their pants down, it was impossible to get anything done. With a substantial amount of onlookers choosing to turn towards the titanic wolf, the arteries ensuring a quick means of escape were clogged up, with plenty of people deciding the best course of action would be to try and force others to turn around and give themselves up to Tiramisu, and several more having simply dropped to their knees in open adoration (though not of the prayer variety). And with each one came a boost of power to Tiramisu, who, despite being entirely unaware of what was happening around him, nevertheless absorbed some of the residual worship… or, perhaps, he was simply that powerful to begin with, and the universe was just now beginning to catch up and give him what he had deserved all along, it was hard to tell. Nevertheless, the end result was the same: a colossal, near-two kilometer-tall wolf, a beast of bulk and mass, a gargantuan titan with a cock nearly as big as his entire upper body and a pair of nuts to match, cramping all over from the strain of pleasuring a member that refused to tip him over the edge. No matter how hard he did it, no matter how much energy he put into it, he never quite seemed to manage; instead, he just kept getting progressively closer to a release, always an inch at a time, one increasingly smaller fraction after another, like an infinite tendency line that approached a value but never quite reached it. He could see it, just on the other side of the proverbial edge, ready to send him into a wild state of euphoria once he actually succeeded at grabbing it; and he would, for despite the fact that existence itself was clearly working against him, that hardly mattered for a wolf whose main power was to ignore the laws of physics and keep powering through regardless of how impossible it was. He was going to cum, and no one had any say in the matter but him; it was just a matter of when. Maybe, if it were a normal day, he would’ve been done already; maybe, if the wolf had held onto his own sense of self-restraint, then he would be home, his body wouldn’t be nearly three kilometers tall, a city wouldn’t be reduced to rubble, and he actually would’ve orgasmed already. Instead, he was left standing there, tall above the land, looking down upon the little ones below, not knowing when his form would stop, unable to tell when his limit would be reached. And that… made things worse. Not because it made it harder for him to climax, but precisely because it aroused him further, which led to even more growth and an increasingly higher cap on how much he could take. Meter after meter, he grew unsustainably larger; past a certain point, he could barely keep standing thanks to the confluence of gravitational forces pulling on him in entirely different directions; a million different ropes tied around him, keeping him well and locked in place as a result of not knowing in which direction he should collapse, a precarious balance that even the smallest of disturbances could thoroughly destroy. Yet for as long as he remained, he would grow; as long as he stood, he would get ever closer to an explosive release, and as long as he was there, he would become greater, end of story. Was it even about climaxing anymore? When his head broke through multiple cloud layers and approached cruising altitude for commercial aircraft, was he still doing it because he just wanted to get off? Was that it? Or was it something more, something deeper? Was it, perhaps, a display of his strength, the wolf growling and rumbling to the world that he was there and so much greater than they thought he was? That he had spent so much time behind a desk that the natural order had been thrown out of balance and now it was his job to address it, by externalizing all that energy he’d been forced to push back and repress; this was the truth, that was his truth, and when the first droplets of proper cum began to make themselves known, so soo would it become everyone else’s truth. Tiramisu felt it before anything else, that spark of power coursing through his body, down his spine and back up into his pleasure centers, that singular moment before the orgasm that brough with it a moment of clarity. He knew; were he inside his house and not towering over the landscape, maybe he would’ve arched his back upwards, or let loose a low growl before being wracked by the waves of ecstasy unleashed by the serotonin release. But he wasn’t inside his house, he was outside in the great outdoors, he was encroaching on six kilometers of height, and every movement he made brought destruction to everything below him. He wasn’t even thinking of what he was wrecking, nor of what his swishing tail or mindless paws were destroying whenever he did anything other than stand perfectly still; all he had on his mind was cumming, and when he felt it sneaking up on him, nothing else mattered. There it was: the little death that he yearned for, the instant of gratification that made everything up until then worth it. All the waiting, the rampaging growth, the uncontrollable bulking, all of it was worth it for that one point in time where he felt absolute, endless bliss; if he could take a picture of it and frame it, then that would be it, he’d need nothing else in his life. Nothing but the wave of pleasure that crashed into him, absent any direction, filling him from head to paw in preparation for the final release… and when that came, it brought everything along with it. He was, by then, just over eight kilometers tall, and so wide that he could easily squish the entirety of his hometown with a single toe. So for his cock to finally open its floodgates, when it was the size of his torso and connected to a pair of cumtanks so stuffed that Tiramisu could practically use them as a throne, spelled disaster for everyone around him in a wide-enough radius that the Earth’s curvature actually mattered when it came to the final release; hell, the first cum shot alone didn’t even land on the same state that the wolf was in, let alone anywhere near where he started! And though each successive one carried less power with it, there were enough of them that the landscape would be eventually painted white… whenever he was done. For that one moment was never a moment, not with him; he was cumming, and it certainly wasn’t going to be over in a fraction of a second! It would keep going, with him being hit by the raw force of it again, and again, until his insides were mush, his muscles were limp, and a large chunk of the country had been reduced to a landscape of white.

***

In the end, it was just him, surrounded on all sides by an ocean of white of his own making, the ruins of a city beneath him, washed away in the tide. His muscles limp, the wolf could barely even move at all, but he somehow managed to drag one of his arms across by his side, sweeping a large quantity of cum from the landscape surrounding him… cum, and plenty of building wrecks that came along with it, as well as anyone still taking refuge within.

Wouldn’t take long before he was bringing the unholy mixture to his mouth, not much longer before he was happily swallowing a mouthful. It was obscene, perhaps, but fitting; it was his fault the whole place was like that, and he was going to enjoy it as such.

Before he got started again, of course. Couldn’t just have one climax a day.