Prompt of the Month - November 2021

TAGS: Loving Couple/Actual Mushy Stuff, Growth/Expansion, Pokémon, Hyper/Hyper Growth, Macro/Macro Growth

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It was a meeting for the ages, even if neither party was entirely aware of it. Why should they, when their lives had been entirely regular up until the very moment they closed the door to the bedroom and locked it shut, even if there was no one else in the house? It was a momentous occasion, or at least the two of them wanted to make sure that it was; perhaps it might’ve been somewhat excessive to go to those lengths just to ensure that they had some privacy, but who was going to tell them off? It was their night, no one else’s, and so both Don and Trish did what they felt was the most right, even if part of themselves had to wonder if they weren’t playing into tired tropes a tad too much. For both the Arcanine and Ninetales, their burgeoning relationship had marked the best six months of their entire adult life; plenty of happy memories all about and whatnot, but there was something… different, about the way things took place when they finally met one another and it felt as if their entire existence had been leading up to that point. When they first saw one another, sitting on opposite ends of that wonderful little café tucked away in a corner of a barely-visited commercial district, both of whom regularly patronized for their wonderful selection of sandwiches, they didn’t think twice; they couldn’t think twice, in fact, as it was merely natural that they should get up and walk towards one another, only thinking about the awkward result when they were already standing in the middle of the establishment without anywhere nearby to sit down. Yet, for all that this made them blush once the rest of the clientele was made aware, the words flowed from their mouths about as easily as they would had the two been long-term friends; it was a raw, almost instinctual attraction that really couldn’t be explained purely through rational and-or emotional means, but ran somehow deeper than even those levels. They were destined to be together, that much they knew… even if they didn’t quite know how they knew, or why they were so fated in the first place. Gift horses and all that; better to spend time with one another than waste it wondering why that was happening, and for the following six or so months, both Trish and Don found that their relationship didn’t so much leave them feeling fulfilled as it did complete them. It was a horribly tired thing to say, but they were both well aware that they understood what all those love songs in the radio were about, even if they were somewhat certain their sappiness went a few levels above what was intended; they couldn’t help it though, not when they looked at one another and saw in their partner something more: a companion for life, a lover, a better half, an actual half of who they were meant to be that just happened to have been estranged until the two of them met. They were more than convinced that their newfound joy and glee had become nearly unbearable for everyone else around them, especially whenever they became “physical”; not that the two of them went anywhere beyond handholding and the occasional snuggling, but the amount of pet names, tender caresses and nonsense noises, not to mention the wide, goofy smiles and the mumbled sweet nothings all contributed to something straight out of a terrible B-movie romance. Neither of them cared though; let the world mock them, for they were happy together, and that’s all that mattered. Why bother worrying about what the rest of the planet thought about their public displays of affection when there was a reason for them to exist in the first place? They had one another, they were happier than ever, and now, after six months of pretending like they didn’t want to go another step further, they were finally going to (more traditionally) consummate their relationship. It was… harder than it would appear, as despite their willingness to be open about their love for one another, it was another thing entirely to think about those sorts of things. Holding hands, hugging, cuddling, maybe even exchanging a kiss if they were feeling particularly scandalous that day, that was one thing; actually going through with what couples were, to some extent, “expected” to do was quite another one entirely. For a long while, in fact, both the Arcanine and the Ninetales were perfectly fine with the assumption that theirs was a purely romantic relationship, with few, if any, sexual elements to it. Even were this to be true, it wouldn’t have been any less wonderful of an experience compared to other, more physical alternatives; the love they shared was real, realer than anything the two of them had ever felt, so whether or not they were sticking whatsits into whoevers didn’t really matter to them. Alas, their bodies both disagreed, albeit in a form that gave both lovers some time to process what they were feeling in a way that allowed them to comfortably rationalize their urges away… for a time. Trish in particular was the first one to notice something was off, when she started to pay closer attention to Don whenever he was vacuuming the house while wearing as little clothes as possible. The reason for it was perfectly logical, and indeed had been offered on the Arcanine’s part without a hint of teasing: he shed a lot of fur, hence, if he was going to suck up whatever loose dirt or dust was around, he might as well get all the shedding done while he was doing it, precluding the need for a second go-around just a day or two later. And for a while, things were fine; he’d strip down to his boxer shorts and walk around the house vacuuming, while Trish sat on the couch and did her best not to get too much fur on the ground herself. Unfortunately for her, Don was… endowed, well-endowed in fact, and in more ways than one. He certainly had plenty to show between his legs, but the sheer degree of muscle mass on that man’s body was something that had to be seen to be believed; granted, he worked hard for it and had very much earned it, what with regular visits to the gym and a strict control over his diet, but somehow, for some reason, Trish had never quite paid so much attention to his rippling, bulging abs, his rock-solid pecs or the thick pillars of delicious man meat that Don called his thighs before. She’d never even noticed them, at least not in… that way. So for her eyes to suddenly be attracted to those particular parts of her partner’s anatomy, for her body to grow hotter and her breathing to turn short and heavy at the same time whenever she caught a glimpse of that sculpted form, was more than a little confusing. Or rather, confusing for the conscious side of Trish; she wasn’t an idiot, nor was she an innocent waif who didn’t know what this thing ye scoundrels called “love” was. She was just… unused to such thoughts. They didn’t cross her mind that often, or at all really, leaving her to wonder just what exactly was happening to her that she would notice all these seemingly insignificant details, when clearly all she should be worrying about was that knee-length d-or, instead, how thoughtful it was that Don took over most of the monotonous chores. For his part, Don himself very quickly went through the same process of having his urges awakening, though for him, it might’ve been a bit more excusable than most. Trish’s body, for all intents and purposes, was entirely at odds with her apparent lack of a sexual drive; many times, in fact, had the Arcanine wondered his attraction to the Ninetales was indeed genuine on a personal and spiritual level, or if it was just his primal lizard brain doing the talking for him, because for someone who expressed little to no interest in going much further than intimate kissing, Trish certainly had a body that screamed far, far more. From a set of curvaceous hips that made it difficult for her to go through most doors without getting the slightest bit stuck, going down to a pair of thighs soft and squishy enough that even Don had trouble finding how much he could his fingers into them, curving back up to a rump that could serve as its very own seat from how immense it was. It all combined wonderfully with just the right amount of pudge to her belly, not enough for it to be outright impeditive, but certainly sufficient for a good couple of handfuls, all capped off by a bust that was, in all respects, excessively large. Really, all it needed was to produce milk and the whole picture would be complete, but at the very least Trish hadn’t been saddled with that yet; merely a pair of breasts heavy enough that she often had to cross thresholds one of them at a time, needing to angle herself so as to not get stuck trying to squeeze her bust through. In all honesty, given that Don had already gone through a couple of flings in the past, it was nothing short of miraculous that he didn’t have his pleasure centers activated whenever he looked in Trish’s general direction, but the world worked in mysterious ways, and so it was that he just… didn’t. It wasn’t until one random day that he woke up, saw the Ninetales by his side underneath the sheets, and rather than having the normal first reaction, that of being overwhelmed by the realization of how lucky he was to have someone as wonderful as Trish in his life, he instead thought to himself that she looked very attractive. Not necessarily in those terms, though the ones employed would remain within the Arcanine’s mind until the day he died, as they were far too scandalous even for him; he remembered having his cheeks burn brightly, even if Trish hadn’t heard any of the things that crossed his mind, with the poor guy having to rush out of bed in order to splash some cold water on his face and… assorted other places. It was stronger than him, and he couldn’t explain it; at no point had he developed any sort of physical, sexual attraction for Trish, and yet now he couldn’t help but think to himself how wonderful it would be to throw himself at the immense vixen and just vanish into the many folds of her body, while she pat his head, stroked his back, and called him a good boy. It was enough to get his tail to start wagging involuntarily, which itself triggered enough buttons in Trish’s mind that she wondered what it would take to get the pup to heel and service her in ways she never once thought about doing to herself, much less with anyone else. All in all, a bit a pickle as the two lovers tried dancing around the subject when they both refused to even address it to begin with, “content” in ignoring it and pretending it just didn’t exist, even as its stranglehold on their lives and psyche grew stronger by the day. Their sixth-month anniversary was coming up soon as well; though others found it perplexing that they would celebrate such a milestone, both Trish and Don assured everyone whom the subject was brought up with that it was just “a thing” they did, for every day they spent together was more precious than the last, thus they might as well mark a somewhat significant date on the calendar and use that as an excuse to celebrate. They weren’t lying either; they loved one another even more than when they first got together. It was just everything else that made the end of those six months far more complicated than they ever thought it would be, including all the extra time they spent together in bed immediately before and after sleep. As far as they could rationalize it, this was nothing but a gesture of purely innocent intimacy; they merely appreciated one another’s presence, was all, even if they did show it by getting a bit more handsy with one another than they normally would, with a whole lot of extra sounds they didn’t usually make even at the worst of times. It took a significant amount of effort for them to admit to one another that they wanted to go further than just cuddling, and even then it was through a thick fog curtain of awkwardness, with a hefty dose of blushing embarrassment on the side. Unsurprisingly, “the talk” ended with them in one another’s arms shedding a handful of happy tears (they were still sappy romantics after all), but the preparations for the grand occasion were… somewhere on the other end of the scale. Both of them knew something that they hadn’t thought to mention to the other, mostly because they’d lived with it for so much of their lives that it hardly seemed worth mentioning at all, especially since it wasn’t altogether rare. A genetic mutation in fire-types had a tendency of “subverting”, as it was called, the effects of the Flash Fire ability, altering its functionality in some subtle, but fundamentally meaningful ways; typically, Flash Fire itself did little beyond allowing a fire-type to absorb flame and heat in exchange for a temporary boost to power, something Don in particular was deeply acquainted with thanks to his strict workout regimen. However, there were two distinct strains of the mutation, dubbed the “Empathetic” and “Hypertrophic”; the former was significantly more common, and merely extended the effects of the ability itself to other, less conventional forms of “heat”, for lack of a better word. Those afflicted by it would find themselves reinvigorated when next to someone who was sexually aroused, or otherwise experiencing a high degree of sexual activation, being able to feed (again, for lack of a better word) off these emotional and physiological responses in much the same way they’d be able to directly absorb, say, a fireball. For Don, this was both a blessing and somewhat of a curse, since while he was more than happy with being given the ability to grow stronger and mightier whenever he did a good job satisfying his partner, the amount of beds he’d broken and bones he almost twisted and cracked was perhaps a bit too high for his liking. It left him feeling like he had to treat his lovers like they were made of glass at times, and most likely contributed to his (at first) unwillingness to progress with Trish to a deeper and more physical relationship; thankfully, he was somewhat certain the Ninetales would be able to take what he had to dish out, since, after all, she was bigger than him… and had plenty of cushioning zones, which he figured might help whenever things got rough. Trish herself, however, had manifested the second, rarer strain of the mutation, the “Hypertrophic” variant, and the one responsible for her body being what it was. In addition to a boost to power, stamina, and all-around physical prowess, absorbing fire attacks prompted a direct exchange in energy and mass, giving Trish the ability to turn what should’ve been a first-degree burn into, say, an extra cup size for her bust, or more pudge for her thighs, or even a fatter ass to round herself out. She’d discovered this entirely by accident when she younger, when during an unfortunate spat with a would-be rival involving some boy she couldn’t even remember the name of, the vixen accidentally ended up knocking out who she was fighting with by slapping them hard enough with her bust that they fainted… a bust that hadn’t really been there until Trish subconsciously absorbed a fireball thrown at her instead of deflecting it. Since then, she’d kept a tight leash on her use of that ability, not because she didn’t want to, but precisely because she did; her form, after puberty, might have been somewhat curvier than average, but it was still well within bounds of what was “normal”. Herself now, however, several years later in her mid-20s, was the result of the vixen forgetting herself a few times and having far too much fun playing with fire without getting burned. Thus, she had made a conscious decision not to use that ability anymore, at least not unless it was absolutely necessary. Together, the two were opposite sides of the same coin, and together, they both inwardly assumed their condition wasn’t worth bringing up; even Trish, who was convinced there would be flames flying in the bedroom, didn’t think it worthy of her time, partly because she believed herself capable of holding back, mostly because it would be a tremendous surprise for her partner if she didn’t. Don, meanwhile, was firmly of the opinion that one being able to feed off ambient horny energy in order to keep oneself going was very much the sort of thing one should keep to themselves unless asked… again, mostly because he saw it as a perfect gift to his beloved on their very first night “together” as a couple. Two trains on a collision course with one another that couldn’t well be steered in another direction, not with the sort of gusto and enthusiasm they were both harboring: the Arcanine wanted to take the Ninetales on a marathon of lovemaking, while Trish had to fight against herself whenever she wondered about how amazing it would be if she just “borrowed” some of the fire that Don would no doubt be spewing during their most intimate moments. And thus their days were slowly counted, with the two lovers doing their best not to think about how they had actually scheduled their first time together like it was some kind of appointment, especially when their attraction for one another clearly didn’t care about keeping to the allotted time frame; every day they woke up, and every day they looked at one another from opposite sides of the bed. Every day they would hold the other in their arms, and every day they would spend just a little more time snuggling in bed, cuddling in bed, kissing in bed, finding new ways of tracing one another’s contours in bed. Every day was one day closer to them simply giving up waiting and throwing themselves headfirst into the throes of carnal passion… but they had promised one another to make their sixth month anniversary special, and so they would. More time for their bodies to get ready, one supposed; by the time the lucky day turned about, both Don and Trish were so on edge that the former was already having to keep himself from draining himself for extra energy, while the latter took to carrying around a box of matches to use as a stress toy, trying exceptionally hard not to think about how easy it would be to give herself a thicker, fuller body if only she lit a few of them. Or a few dozen. Or several boxes, given they bought a whole bunch of them in a sale. Really, it was nothing short of divine intervention that those two made it through the day without anyone at their respective workplaces asking what was wrong, even if the question went through many a head regardless; once they clocked out, both Trish and Don instantly beelined for their cars, not even thinking about trying to make their desperate rush to get back home the slightest bit inconspicuous. Hell, at times, they had to actively remind themselves that the road had a code and they weren’t supposed to be going one-eighty in a ninety zone, or that red meant stop, not “maybe think about slowing down”. Yet, the lack of any police officers on their tails could only mean the universe wanted them to get together, which itself was further proof that this was a blessed, special day indeed. How fortuitous, then, then it was Trish the first to arrive, with just enough time that she managed to prepare their bedroom with a handful of scented candles and the obligatory rose petals… and then prepare herself, mostly by stripping down, taking a nice bath with some expensive fur shampoo, and then leaving the door to their bedroom wide open so Don would see her on coming in. And Don, being Don, took the time to detour over to a flower shop and then pretend like he knew what he was talking about as he nodded along and offered some platitudes, being more interested in the gesture inherent to a bouquet than what lilies represented over roses or rhododendrons. The trains were back on track, and soon, when the front door to their apartment was closed behind the Arcanine’s back, they smashed against one another. Don had been expecting… something. He didn’t spend much time thinking about what that might be, nor did he consider that anything the Ninetales did could genuinely cause him to freeze in utmost surprise; he was quite convinced he knew her, apart from the small details that one simply needed time for, so for him to see the sort of visual spectacle that was waiting for him on the other side of the door was… elucidating, if nothing else. He was, for once, exceedingly happy about being wrong, given that he assumed he’d find the vixen sitting in the living room, shaking in her boots after dressing up in what she considered to be a “scandalous” outfit, rather than her being fully nude, fully exposed, and beckoning him closer without lifting her head: an immense pair of tits with an arm poking out from behind her. Not that he could claim any form of superiority, given that he had actually bought flowers like some sort of neurotic college student with no idea of how courtship was supposed to happen; worse yet, he felt like he was fifteen again and going on his first date, at least until he peered into his bedroom and felt very much like the grown-up he was supposed to be. Those were thoughts he’d never had before, crossing through his mind just then; he wasn’t a virgin (far from it), but at no point did his brain undergo that exact sequence of neuron activation that it did at that moment, that precise moment when he saw his gorgeous, beautiful vixen lying down waiting for him, her every curve splayed out and begging for him to make good use of it. For once, he lost it; there was no more Don in there, just an Arcanine, a bestial canine of purest infernal power whose sole motivation was to mate, with the object of his carnal desire just… there. She was there, Trish was there, and she was telling him to come and get her, if he so wanted. He could practically hear the two words already.

“Oh big boy~!” the Ninetales called out; not the ones he was looking for, but close enough, “I’ve been waiting for you, where’ve you been? Almost thought I’d have to get started without you~”

Well yes, that was indeed the sound of his jeans ripping apart down the entirety of one pant leg. Granted, Don himself didn’t notice; he was slightly too busy trying to pick up the shattered remnants of something he used to call a psyche for him to really pay attention to such trivial details. At least now he felt properly free; no more pants meant he was ready to throw himself at Trish, end of story, and whether or not this was alarming, given that he’d never actually broken through his clothes before, was entirely secondary to getting his hands on that supple mini-giantess and making her make him squeal. A roundabout mess of emotions, born mostly from Don’s need to be the one on the bottom despite technically being the “strongest” of the two; while he’d never given it much thought before, looking back he came to realize that he’d always taken more “active” role in his previous relationships, whereas with Trish the whole thing had been… reversed. Never in his life had the Arcanine thought that being pat on the head and told he was a good boy would make his tail wag as hard as it did, but he certainly did end up knocking a great number of things on the way to the bedroom, eager to see what would happen now that he didn’t need to worry about holding back any longer. It was beautiful, and not a single ounce of regret was born out of using that expression; both lovers thought it, both lovers believed it, and from the moment they felt their touch, both lovers felt it. The warmth of their bodies, the softness of their fur, the love exuding from every pore and hot breath, the haze hanging in the air as ambient temperature began to rise as a consequence of the two fire-types finally cutting loose; it was just their luck that they insisted on properly insulating their bedroom precisely for such an occasion, even if they hadn’t envisioned it taking place any time soon at the time they did so. It felt proper, given what sort of person each of them was… though, to be fair, it did force them to keep said bedroom quite spartan; they could make most of the structure and the bed fireproof, but not exactly their laptops. Or books. Or anything that could spruce up the place, honestly. Not that either of them were concerned with such trivial matters, especially not when Don’s hands sunk deeply into Trish’s ample breasts, the Arcanine practically howling at the moon already when he felt the pliable pudge not just overflow around his hands, but swallow them entirely all the way to the wrist. That Trish reacted to this by moaning just as loudly certainly helped matters along, and before either of them knew it, she was having her bust massaged with energy that one could almost mistake it for a milking; indeed, it wouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes of Don haphazardly caressing those mammoth mammaries before their owner let loose a short yelp, pushed her lover off of her… and then promptly turned over, kneeling on the edge of their bed with her hands outstretched, holding onto the wall; quite coincidentally, this left her enormous tits to hang down from her chest, their gargantuan size evident as their perfectly-formed shape was made even more evident when fully at gravity’s mercy. And then, she talked; she said something, something that clearly took a lot of energy out of her to say in the way she did, something which, from the way it was spoken, Trish had either wanted to say for a long time, or just recently discovered that was the case. Her words were strained, control over her tone faltering, but she nonetheless managed to pull out the same intonation with which she called Don over in the first place when she opened her mouth and respectfully requested of him:

“Be a good boy and milk me, will you~? I’m feeling quite… full…”

The last word was less tantalizing and far more strained, almost as if Trish actually was as stuffed with milk as she wanted Don to pretend she was. This was, of course, complete nonsense; as the Arcanine knew, and the Ninetales herself was most certainly aware of, those tits were entirely dry, lacking even the most disappointing of milk reserves. It had been something Trish herself had thought about for a while by then, especially once her arousal began to kick in, and even though she herself was unaware of it, her body had decided to pull a fast one on her by activating her Flash Fire ability without her even realizing it. And while normally this wouldn’t be a problem, given that she could only absorb actual flame… well, she didn’t exactly need actual flame. It would stand as a question for the ages whether she had developed the Empathetic manifestation of the Flash Fire mutation on her own, or if proximity to Don had somehow led to her Hypertrophic variety altering itself further, but one thing was for certain: the moment the Arcanine gently wrapped his arms around the vixen’s torso and held onto her nipples, he had to let go of them immediately. Not because he wanted to, but because it was slightly difficult to do so when said tits went from merely hanging heavily below Trish to occupying the entire space between her side of the bed and the wall, a mighty and loud slorsh accompanying the sudden expansion as the Ninetales was projected backwards by the force of impact! There was a slight moment of embarrassment where neither Trish nor Don really knew what to make of this; clearly, something out of the ordinary was taking place that they couldn’t explain, and under normal circumstances, they would certainly be very worried that the Ninetales suddenly bloated to over twice her size while developing enough milky production to start gushing gallons of thick cream from both of her now-head-sized nipples. Fortunately for the both of them, these weren’t normal circumstances; not only were the two lovers far too aroused to think critically about anything other than how hard they could go, it just so happened that Don’s body decided this would be a fantastic opportunity for it to pull out a surprise of its own. Once more, neither the Ninetales nor Arcanine would ever find out the root cause for this, but it hardly mattered when Trish let loose a loud and extremely hot, throaty moan; quite literally hot, as the pleasure high was simply too much for her to exercise any amount of self-control when it came to her inner flame. She opened her mouth, and moments later a gout of fire erupted from it, bathing the Arcanine in an inferno that, were he not perfectly adapted to withstand it, would’ve left him charred and charcoaled. Mercifully for the big pup, not only was he fully capable of absorbing the blast by itself, his Flash Fire was right there and ready to help him along, activating at just the right time to take in all the excess energy being blasted onto his upper body and diverting it to the rest of him. Not as stamina, not as extra endurance, but as mass; their bed creaked ominously, already damaged from the sudden surge of milky breastflesh, when Don’s entire form practically raced outwards in every direction, the Arcanine letting loose a yowl that very audibly dropped in register the bigger he became, his vocal chords vibrating at an increasingly lower frequency as his whole form had copious amounts of extra Arcanine stacked on top of it. From six feet to seven, from seven to ten, smashing his head against the ceiling as he hit fifteen with almost no difficulty whatsoever, accompanied by a body that seemed to widen about as much as it gained height; wouldn’t take long before the mattress’ springs snapped, followed quickly by the bed’s frame itself, as the poor thing could take a lot of punishment, maybe even a “proper” lovemaking session, but two burgeoning giants? It gave up the ghost rather quickly, shattering into pieces as bits of wood flew sideways, some bouncing off of the Ninetales’ resilient body, others embedding themselves in the walls as if to demonstrate how much power had been used to project them outwards. With a thundering crash, the Arcanine dropped to the floor with enough strength that his knees both created a small impact crater; not that he was any worse for wear, getting back up almost immediately so he could readjust himself. After all, he still had Trish there, and she did ask him to milk her, and he was a good boy; he was her good boy, that much he knew, and if he wanted her to say those two magic words to him again, then it was his duty to get that milking done as quickly as possible. A lot easier now that he was that much bigger than the Ninetales, to be fair; he could nestle her against him and just lean forward to grab her engorged buds, made doubly convenient by how the bed was completely crushed, allowing them to pull back slightly and make more room. The amount of milk, however, came as a shock to both of them… though not necessarily in the same direction, as one might believe. Don certainly found it to be far more than even he initially assumed, with spurts of dairy voluminous enough to fill multiple gallon jugs being produced at even the slightest touch. For Trish, however, things weren’t so simple; she might not have been aware that it was her arousal and Don’s that caused the sudden burst of size and productivity, but she was absolutely aware that she was horny, and that a mere milking wasn’t going to solve it. When she laid eyes upon what her tits were doing, when she was made fully aware of how much milk was flowing out of her, a small part of the vixen’s brain told her that this was “enough”, and the remaining bits promptly balked at this notion and instantly overcorrected. Of course it wasn’t “enough”; the two of them hadn’t even started yet, how could it be “enough”? “Enough” was for when she and Don were so thoroughly exhausted that they couldn’t even walk straight anymore, not for the start of the show; “enough” was for when their room was coated in milk and their home was flooded by a knee-height layer of the stuff, not just some minor spillage. So not, it wasn’t enough, nor would it be for quite some time; in fact, what she needed was more, what she needed was to have her body bask in the warm glow of sexual bliss and make something out of it… or, more specifically, make something out of her. There was a long, loud noise, one that might once have been called a moan, escaping from the vixen’s throat with the sort of reverb one might expect of a creature far larger than she was. A sound that heralded the emergence of something akin to a demigoddess, as the Ninetales opened herself up to the arousal, the horny energy, the sheer need of it all, taking it within herself as her Flash Fire ability ran on overdrive and uncontrolled. She absorbed it, drunk it, consumed it, gorged herself upon it, growing larger with every second, and not just in her bust either; while her milkers were certainly becoming even larger than before, the rest of her body was well on its way to compensate for this, granting her the shapely curves that best befitted a creature of her semi-divine status. From her curvaceous legs to her fat thighs and even wider ass, to a set of hips that could be described as motherly if one were feeling for euphemisms, and just the right amount of plush to her midriff to ensure that Don had something to squeeze that wasn’t just the usual. Throw all of that onto a frame that grew up to be taller than the Arcanine, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds before Trish went from “helplessly pinned down” to “in charge and loving every second of it”; hell, Don was thrown back once his partner decided that what he truly needed was to have her sit down on him, muffling the outside world almost completely… though not the words that came out of Trish’s mouth afterwards.

“I think it’s time we spruced up the place.”

And there was the Flash Fire, or at least the Empathetic version that Don was so used to. He couldn’t help it; with the amount of plushness on him, it’d be downright criminal if he didn’t make use of his abilities, even if he knew that something was wrong about them and the house was going to pay for it if he failed to exercise some basic degree of self-control. Yet, self-control felt like the last thing he should be worried about; self-control felt like the sort of thing that he shouldn’t be wasting time on, when he could be focusing on far more productive things instead, such as whether or not he should be pushing that colossal rear off of him. He could, technically speaking, in that it was entirely within his power to do so; it just so happened that he didn’t know whether he should, whether he had the right to shove his loving partner off from on top of him, when she had so lovingly sat down upon him that he might delight in her smothering presence. Then again, had she not just said they were supposed to spruce the place up? How was he to do such a thing unless he was free from that bind? It’d certainly be one hell of an uphill battle if he tried to perform aggressive renovations while being buried by vixen butt, even if he could think of a great many ways to go about doing just that; maybe that was the point, and the Ninetales actually did want him to put some effort into his ministrations, putting those muscles of his to good use rather than simply lying around waiting for her to take some initiative herself. Luckily for Trish, her lover’s absorption of all that plentiful horny energy was enough to make his body bwoompf outwards with sufficient force to break apart whatever was left of their bed; shattered remnants were pulverized and the final vestiges of what used to be the mattress and sheets were burned to a crisp, courtesy of a large and rather well-formed gout of flame erupting from Don’s mouth after he failed to contain a roar. This, naturally, only led to the Ninetales making very good use of that heat by activating her own form of the Flash Fire, the whole room rumbling as her form grew to occupy most of it, keeping Don firmly pinned against the floor no matter how hard he wriggled (and goodness, did he put his all into his wriggling). This was, ultimately, part of the dance the two had just fabricated from whole cloth; for people like them, it wouldn’t do to merely get together, it wouldn’t do for them to merely engage in the same sort of foreplay and sexual activities as other people did. Not that they thought about it in that way until just seconds prior, but as their bodies bulged and swelled, as their forms filled every space available to them, it became clear that they were destined for far greater things than just regular lovemaking; there was a dance, or so they individually chose to see it, where they would push and pull, test one another’s limits just to see how far they could go, all while basking in their mutual adoration and growing bigger and fuller and stronger and larger in the process. None other could experience what they did, no matter how much they tried; it was purely through their own unique relationship, their burgeoning love for one another, that such a state of being was possible (that, or a lucky fluke with genetics; frankly, they chose to believe the more romantic option)... and, as a result, the couple’s bedroom wouldn’t last much longer after the final barriers went down and the two budding giants within chose to willingly indulge in the delectable carnality they had denied from themselves for so long. Or something of the sort, it was difficult coming up with coherent ideas when they were as horny as they were; all either of them could come to care about was whether or not they were growing, whether or not the other one was moaning loudly enough, and just how much they could stretch their luck by tapping into abilities which had clearly mutated beyond their capacity to control. Not that any of this mattered in the pursuit of purest pleasure, but some part of Don and Trish still worried about having a roof over their heads, nevermind the fact that those affected by the Hypertrophic variant of the Flash Fire mutation couldn’t shrink. Trish had an obligation to be deeply acquainted with this notion, and on some level she still was; it was just that everything else piled on top of it made it exceedingly difficult to even notice that realization was there to begin with, let alone pay attention to it in any meaningful manner. All the Ninetales cared for was having her tits bloat with mass and milk, each one reaching a size large enough that each one could’ve filled the couple’s bedroom all on its own, saved from being smothered by her own mammaries by virtue of the walls collapsing; it happened so quickly, and so muffled by the enormous stack of breastflesh she had in front of her, that Trish didn’t realize it had taken place until she saw her breasts spilling into the living room… or, more accurately, heard the TV being pushed off the wall and crash into the ground, chuckling to herself as the truth sank in and her full size became apparent. Not that this made her stop, or even so much as slow down; indeed, with a bust that large, what else could she do besides making her ass grow bigger to compensate, while throwing a few additional feet onto her height for good measure? What else could she do but keep rolling her hips and grinding her rump against Don, getting him to rumble and roar and yowl and yelp with delicious, filling flames erupting from his delectably open mouth. That pup had a way with his tongue, one that made Trish’s spine tingle and freeze over before melting from overstimulation, only deepening her desire to keep on sitting atop her lover, who, for his part, did very little to actually move away. Why should he, really, when he was exactly where he wanted to be: stuck underneath a growing goddess with his dick very firmly lodged between a pair of milktanks that were seemingly rushing to outsize the house that already barely contained them? He didn’t even know if Trish was aware of it or not, but she was giving him the best titjob he’d ever experienced in his life; granted, it was the first one, but Don figured nothing could really compare, given that both of them had grown as much as they had. Though he himself couldn’t be sure, seeing as there was a whole lot of Ninetales ass in front of him, from the feel of it all he could be reasonably certain his cock had become about as long as he used to be tall; which was just as well, because what else should a hunk like him have on a fifteen-foot frame than a six-foot-long shaft to go along with it? Barely a thought was paid to the size of his nuts, mostly because the immense pressure they were under was only kept at bay from Don’s pleasure centers through extreme focus and concentration; if he dared to even think about thinking of what they were going through, then he wouldn’t be able to service Trish properly, and then he wouldn’t be able to feed on her arousal to grow himself further so she could grow herself even more and the two could carry on with their dance. It was a requirement by then, one that would only cease once they achieved climax… preferably with Trish outlasting Don. It was only fair that a goddess such as her wouldn’t have to withstand the brutish ministrations of a consort who didn’t know how to treat a mistress lady properly; plus, it was Trish. She deserved everything he could give her, and at that moment, Don figured the best he could give was his own endless stamina, brought to the very edge and kept there, that the goddess he was flattened under would experience true heaven. Of course, the perfect course of action would have the both of them climaxing at the same time, but the Arcanine giant doubted they could coordinate that well anymore; maybe if they weren’t so far gone into the rabbit hole of mindless pleasure, maybe if their bodies were normal and not divine as they were. In their state, trying to match their rhythms together as opposed to going full tilt and hoping for the best would be a chore and a half, to say the absolute least. Still, they tried; it was the least they could do, given the amount of damage they’d already done to their house: in between a broken bed, a partially collapsed ceiling, and a bedroom with a lovely view of the living room by way of a broken wall, it almost felt silly to try and hold back anymore. It was, after all, the whole point of going full tilt in the first place: after a while, they couldn’t afford to hesitate, or else they’d end up in a far worse situation than if they just unleashed their full might. After all, a pair of growing lovers who wrecked their own home was one thing; two giants looming over a city as they became larger with each moan, each kiss, each grope… well, that was something else entirely. That was the sort of thing that made governments pay attention, unless they wanted to lose a significant chunk of their country to a couple of horndogs who really didn’t care about how much damage they were doing; not out of malice, but purely due to the overwhelming amount of serotonin and endorphins flooding their brains. How could they care about anything other than one another, even when the whole house began to shake as if it was in an earthquake? Their neighbors were probably wondering the same as well, though given the presence of Don and Trish being well-known, even the most suspicious among them figured it was just the young couple finally deciding to do something about the obvious infatuation they had for one another; it wasn’t until ceilings began to cave and floors were pushed upwards that those unfortunate few who lived directly above and below the couple were made aware that they had severely underestimated how far the two of them would go to fulfill their fantasies, something the rest of the apartment block would be taught in short order as well. Neither Trish nor Don could stop it anymore, to be fair; they could certainly try, but it was bound to fail, given how so much of their processing power was dedicated to prolonging the experience whether or not this was even remotely feasible or sustainable. They could feed off either flame or arousal, sometimes both, often with so much gusto that it bordered on the unreasonable, and as far as they cared, that was all they really needed: one another’s warmth, one another’s presence, one another, period. Everything else was secondary to keeping themselves locked in that one eternal moment, even as said moment stretched to fill seconds, minutes, all of which were replete with ample amounts of architectural mayhem as their bodies swelled to fill all available space around them. From their homes to the ones directly adjacent, then the rest of the apartment block until there were a couple of nipples protruding off one end, a cock off the top, and a large ass on the back end of the structure itself, the whole thing ready to collapse like a broken egg. If ever there had been any concern for the world around them, even amidst the storm of pleasure the two experienced, there was none now. It had vanished, like dust scattered to the wind, replaced by an irresistible desire to further augment the sensations they were experienced, replaced with a ravenous need for more and more intense stimulation that would only truly end when their bodies broke down and exhaustion finally won, assuming such a thing was even possible to begin with. Doubtful, to say the least; given their rapidly-shifting mutations and the almost automatic use of their Flash Fire ability, then it was entirely possible that both of them would simply carry on by feeding off one another’s arousal, thoroughly breaking the laws of reality as they knew them by perpetuating their lovemaking by using itself as its own fuel. Or, perhaps most likely, they would instead run into a wall some time in the near future, presumably after spilling over an entire city block and finding that it was significantly harder to fuck one another when they could barely move a muscle as a result of so much strain being placed on them. Whatever the case, neither Don nor Trish were interested in finding out the answer to the question; doing so would mean taking away valuable time from what they should be doing, that being finding new and more inventive ways of using their improved size to find new heights of pleasure to ascend to. There was just so much that could be done, if only they took a few seconds to think things through and put their mass to good use; as soon as their building came down, for instance, it soon became apparent that they were… well, building-sized, or at least large enough that an apartment block couldn’t contain them properly. While this was already a nearly unthinkable truth, or at least would’ve been for the more moderate and contained version of the couple that existed just a couple of weeks prior, it also led to a second realization: there were other buildings. The two of them might’ve toppled their own, but that was only because they were inside it, knocking out load-bearing walls and crumbling the structure from within; surely, they weren’t yet so heavy that they would outright knock down entire buildings from the outside, giving them some measure of encouragement to try something new out: have Trish splay herself over the nearest apartment block, keep her tits firmly pressed against one side of it, then have Don step forward and do what he did best. For a few seconds, things went perfectly; they might as well be inside their bedroom and using a wall, rather than in the great outdoors making use of ten stories stacked on top of one another, filled with panicky and yet highly aroused bystanders. For a few seconds, there was nothing but Don’s grunting, and Trish’s reciprocating moaning, tempo and counter-tempo, until eventually they reached a limit… though not their own. They certainly tried to be as careful as they could (not that this meant much given what they were doing), but their size was too much for something like a simple apartment block to handle; a few seconds, after which the whole thing toppled over like a poorly-constructed Jenga tower, not only bringing its full weight onto the next building over, but Trish down with it as well! She’d been leaning on the structure so much that she hadn’t even thought of maintaining her balance, ensuring that when the concrete crumbled, when the bricks turned to dust, and every wall and foundation was turned to rubble, those within the apartments were not consumed by the deafeningly loud collapse. Instead, they woke up some time later, after Trish and Don had moved, stuck on some part of the Ninetales; some were lucky enough to be on her bust, while others had to make do with parts of her soft tum, or even her hair, entangled in weaves that seemed to flow forever in every direction. As for the vixen herself, however, this unfortunate mishap was very little beside a temporary setback, nothing more than a small hiccup in an otherwise flawless performance; indeed, as soon as the Arcanine pulled her back up, the first thing she did was throw herself at him, arms around his neck, the shift in weight causing Don to topple backwards and repeat the stunt with an unfortunate building that just happened to be behind him. With a giggle, Trish took the turn of getting her lover back on their feet, before wordlessly pointing towards downtown; after all, they had successfully pulled off their plan, it just so happened that they were too big for regular buildings. Thus, why not try for bigger ones? There was no shortage of skyscrapers and other such immense structures to choose from, some of which might even be large enough to serve as their new bed! Neither of them were thinking of how they were still growing, how their proportions were still becoming ever more exaggerated; as far as they were concerned, they just had a horny idea and now had to go through with it, lest their rational sides start developing any weird notions about who was in charge. Best to surrender to their base desires, to their animalistic needs, to the allure of softening curves and hardening cocks, of bulging muscles and gargantuan milktanks. Best to focus on what mattered, was what they were thinking when they once more embraced, falling upon the nearest street and nearly caving it in all the way down to sewage pipes and water mains. They hadn’t forgotten about their goal… it was just that focusing on anything in particular that didn’t involve putting their bodies to immediate good use was somewhat harder than it used to be, hence why they went through multiple cycles before finally getting on their way: they’d get up, look towards the skyscrapers, remember what they were supposed to be, then promptly look at one another, forget everything, and spend a couple of minutes rolling around destroying even more of their surroundings, collecting an ever-increasing amounting of hangers-on as a result. Those lucky few who were in more select and enjoyable sections of the giants’ bodies, rather than the more mundane bits, were barely even aware of the outside world anymore, with the stimulation provided by sheer proximity being enough to overwhelm their senses and make it impossible for them to consider any existence beyond the one they were experiencing at that moment. Maybe it would end, someday hopefully not soon; maybe they would be asked to leave their paradise once those inexplicable titans returned to normal, but it certainly wouldn’t be on that day, nor tomorrow, nor any time in which they could feasibly understand the scale at which it operated. They would have an eternity to bask in the glory, even if it was just five minutes, for that was just how those things went… wasn’t it? If only Trish or Don were there to answer those questions, if only their minds had survived the transition into two rampaging sex monsters whose sole goal in life was to rut one another and use their Flash Fire mutations to absorb even more energy than before. The recurring cycle all-but guaranteed that, by the time they actually did reach the downtown area, both lovers were already far too large to use any of the buildings that they wanted to turn into impromptu walls or support structures; hell, Trish alone had a bust that could easily smother even the tallest of skyscrapers, making the prospect of giving one an impromptu titjob all the less enticing compared to the real thing, the one “skyscraper” that she had eyes for. Then again, wasn’t that even better? They were bigger than their city! Looking down, they could see whole blocks vanishing underneath their paws, assuming of course they took the time to look around their egregiously oversized curves, which on their own cast a wide and almost oppressive shadow over most of the city center. Yet, perhaps “oppressive” wasn’t the right word, for it certainly wasn’t the one that most people thought of when looking up at either Don or Trish; “inviting” was more accurate, “alluring” even, for when any of the little ones down below dared look at the giant gods stepping around haphazardly in the middle of the metropolis, they weren’t thinking about destruction of property, or how much this would affect their bus routes come morning. Rather, they were imagining what it would be like if they simply… offered themselves. If they looked up, raised their arms, and begged to be taken unto their embrace, that they may share in at least a fraction of the pleasure the two colossi were most certainly going through. And, to their credit, if Trish or Don had been remotely aware of their actions, they would’ve absolutely given their worshippers everything they wanted; after all, what was the point of experiencing such bliss if they couldn’t share it with everyone else? What did they stand to gain by hoarding the enjoyment, keeping it from those who deserved it just as much as themselves? Unfortunately for all, there was very little left of the Ninetales or Arcanine in their bodies, which had by then been consumed almost completely by their primal urges and thus lacked the ability to do anything other than what their instincts told them to do; fortunately for all, this also meant they offered no opposition or resistance when the first of the climbers tried their chance, which itself led to a whole wave of chancers who sought to find out if they had what it took to reach their mythical paradise, just there for them to take. As both lovers joined together in loving matrimony yet again, as their arms wrapped around their forms and their lips locked about as heavily as their legs, as they found in one another perfection incarnate, the city around them ceased to matter… or, indeed, be. There would be little left once they were done; in between the mindless thrashing, the rolling about, the absorption of heat via Flash Fire resulting in either yet more mass, additional disproportion, or even a boost to the already-absurd amounts of spunk and milk flowing in equal measure, there was little that could save the urban jungle from being flooded, smashed to pieces, flattened, then flooded again for good measure. Yet, with none dying to the rampage, and instead being whisked away to this new heaven for them to live through for all of their relative eternity, none were willing to stop Don or Trish; why should they, when they could welcome their new gods, seeing in them the means to a life of perpetual joy? Lucky for them, said gods were too busy descending into the pits of mindless self-indulgence to really worry about anything other than one another, allowing their divine nature to truly shine in that, no matter how much damage they did to their surroundings, the people always turned out fine. The universe truly had blessed them, though not nearly as much as they had blessed one another; for they knew, in the last vestige of sanity they still retained, that none of this would’ve been possible if not for the explosive combination of both their unique conditions, that none of it would’ve happened if not for them loving one another on such a deep, spiritual level that even the cosmos at large had to agree, giving them exactly what they wanted, exactly what they needed, exactly what they deserved. And now, thanks purely to their motivation being as selfless as their adoration for one another, they were about to share that with everyone who ever had the courage to simply… ask for it. It was as it should be. As it would be.

Forever lasting.