Prompt of the Month - June 2021

TAGS: Hyper/Extreme Hyper, Macro/Planet Macro, Planetary Demolitions, Romance!

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The secret to Planetary Demolitions Inc.’s success was about the worst-kept one in the entire galaxy, in that while it was technically protected legally in the same manner that a proprietary technology would be, it was slightly difficult to hide the fact that they had a single person hired to do the actual demolition work, and that this person just so happened to be the biggest registered hyper in known space. Not that anyone in the corporate hierarchy was worried about this; genemodding hadn’t yet reached the point where one could simply create a person on the same size as their prized employee, and with the frankly ludicrous savings that came with only employing one person to handle the hard work, they could afford to pay the fox a paycheck that no other company would even begin to be capable of competing with, not without firing all of their staff as well. Plus, all the perks that came with the job made it highly unlikely that Lewis would seek employment elsewhere, keeping PD Inc.’s Board of Directors relatively safe and secure in the understanding that they weren’t in any danger of losing their trump card. As for Lewis himself, the fox couldn’t have asked for a better job; seeing as he was just a smidgeon bigger than even the second-largest hyper on record (read: several orders of magnitude larger), his career choices were rather limited, seeing as it was galactic legislation that any workplace had to help subsidize compressor gear for any employees that might require it, and most companies lacked the funds and resources necessary to keep someone like him from spilling out and utterly flattening whatever happened to be closest. A demolition company specializing on operations on a planetary scale, however? Well, dealing with immense loads and massive weights was part of the job description, making it a perfect fit; plus, the way that things were handled played into so many of the fox’s fantasies that, frankly, most of the time it didn’t even feel like work at all, rather something he did for fun and just happened to get paid ludicrous amounts of money for. What was best, most of his jobs had months in between them, seeing as demolition work on that large a scale didn’t really happen all that often; occasionally, someone needed a moon removed in order to stabilize local tidal forces, or a mining corporation found that a planetary body had an overabundance of a rare material that could only be mined directly from the core, or any other number of situations that required a very large thing to be broken up into chunks. And that’s where he, and PD Inc., came in: their job was to head to the demolition site, survey every angle, figure out a way of cracking open the “egg”, as they liked to call it, and then let Lewis do the heavy lifting. Typically, the way other demolition companies went about it required vast numbers of personnel working around the clock for a variable period of time depending on the size of the body they were blowing up, ranging from a couple of weeks for the smallest moons to well over a year for the larger planets, and this was with several tens of thousands of employees all working perfectly in tandem with one another in continuous, unbroken shifts. The rotation of personnel alone was an art form, hence why, when PD Inc. initially came into the market boasting that they could do the work of all these people with just one fox, they were laughed out of most reputable marketing agencies, who refused to set themselves up for what they knew would be false advertising lawsuits. It was only after the very first demolition job the company scrounged up, a small moon in a small system off in the very tip of one of the galactic arms who was owned by some rich magnate who liked the “cracked planet aesthetic”, as they put it, that the rest of the galaxy was made very aware that the fantastical claims made by this up-and-coming demolition company were, if anything, underselling the full breadth of Lewis’ abilities; it was a calculated move on PD’s part, one proposed by the fox himself, who very much wanted to hear what people would say once rumours began to spread and the first “leaked” images hit the press. From that point forward, their company was flooded with requests by a dozen or so mining super-conglomerates, enticed by the prospect of relatively cheap, quick demolition work that also carried with it an element of novelty; it became something of a fashion amongst certain circles to have PD Inc. do the job when they could’ve potentially given the contract to someone else, purely because it had Lewis’ name attached to it, as well as his unique… leftovers. For the precise method used by the vulpine to get rid of pesky planets was entirely organic in nature, one that required a certain amount of strength and stamina, seeing as he quite literally fucked planets apart. One might be forgiven for assuming that the fox was “merely” an above-average hyper, what with carrying around an eight-foot long schlong in some high-grade compressor gear, almost perpetually turgid and rising proudly above a pair of constantly-gurgling nuts that were each about as wide as the fox’s shaft was long, leaving him looking incredibly off-balance thanks to how utterly unassuming the rest of him was. Even in this reduced state, he would be more than capable of giving most hypers a run for their money, but that was just it: this was a smaller size for him, the smallest in fact that he could ever achieve; his real dimensions, the ones that were only shown to the universe when he had something to destroy, were positively colossal, with his dick alone being about as tall as the largest residential arcologies, and his balls becoming so dense that it was a genuine wonder how they didn’t collapse into a pair of black holes, even when they bloated outwards to occupy as much space as PD Inc.’s main HQ. It was a transformation and a half, an unfurling of spatial dimensions that, by itself, already threatened the stability of smaller planetary bodies, but this was nothing compared to the demolition method itself: all that Lewis had to do, with a degree of gusto that often bordered on the downright alarming, was angle himself in just the right way that his tip would be facing the planet’s crust… and then let gravity do the rest. Typically, his compressor gear would only be deactivated once penetration was confirmed, seeing as trying to do it any other way would pose far too great of a logistical issue; for anyone looking in from the outside, the area around the fox would go from perfectly normal, to suddenly having a few dozen radial cracks emanating around Lewis when he hugged the ground, before suddenly being completely smothered by a pair of hyperactive cumtanks that only swelled larger with each thrust on the part of the single-man demolition team. Over the course of some exceedingly long five minutes, the compression factor on the vulpine’s shaft would be released, allowing him to slowly grow each time he rolled his hips, until he was left utterly ravaging the planet’s crust each time he bottomed out, creating seismic quakes of such high intensity that, on more tectonically-unstable bodies, he had to be secured to the ground in order to be able to do his job properly. Five minutes, as that was typically how long it took before he reached the very end of his stamina and fired off his well-trained load; the end result was a planet-shattering shotgun blast of cum that was fired directly at the core of whatever planetary body Lewis was on, condensing in the gravitational pull of it until finally bursting free from the tight confines of rock (molten or no), shattering the demolition target completely. Just before the final blast, in the second before the long-range scanning instruments detected the building pressure wave was to start moving outwards, the fox would be teleported back onto the nearest observation station, their compressor gear fully reactivated simultaneously. This was the process as it had taken place an exact seventy-three times before, and just as the company was negotiating a seventy-fourth, something different finally happened, albeit not within the hierarchy of PD Inc. itself: Lewis found someone. Now, the fox had never been involved in a romantic relationship before, mostly because he was far too self-conscious about his unique size woes, but after working at the demolition company brought him an unexpected amount of exposure, he’d slowly grown to appreciate his condition more and more; he was still slightly uneasy about it all, especially since the vast majority of people in existence were simply too small to even begin to think about fitting him even in his compressed state, but at least it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. Thus, when he was approached when standing in line to get some terrible coffee from his favourite place, by someone proclaiming to be a “fan” of his “work”, his first reaction wasn’t to blush and try to run away; granted, his first instinct was to wonder why anyone would give a rat’s arse about demolition work, but then his brain reminded him of how he went about it, leaving him feeling about as embarrassed as he would have previously. This person, a dragon by the name of Jackson, was initially perhaps a bit overenthusiastic about the prospect of meeting a glorified stick of planetary dynamite, but after the two sat down and started talking about whatever came to mind, it quickly became apparent that, beyond the admittedly weird introduction and subject matter binding them together, they shared a great number of interests beyond just the obvious; so much so that, before they even realized it, they were being asked to leave so the coffee shop could close down for the night, prompting Lewis to ask Jackson whether they wanted to crash at their place. No lewdness, obviously, not without some serious engineering prep work, but maybe watch a movie and see where it went; three hours later, the two of them were fast asleep in one another’s arms, the TV eventually turning itself off with sleep mode, with them only waking up when the sun rose high enough to shine directly into their faces. How exactly that happened they had no idea, though it probably had to do with the multiple cans of beer on the table in the middle of the living room; still, they couldn’t complain, and it didn’t take more than a handful of minutes for them to hash out a proper date, and from there, well… who knew, really? It was unexplored territory for the both of them, and seeing as neither of the two had any real experience with a love life, they might as well just improvise and see where it led them; it might just end up being someplace nice, if not outright pleasurable. For a while, Lewis’ love life and his work remained firmly separate, thanks mostly to how his demolition jobs left him with plenty of free time in which to pursue his interests; it was only after he was called up for another detonation that things began to take a turn, though not necessarily for the worse. After all, the dragon had already expressed an interest in seeing what the fox did for a living from up close and personal, and though Lewis couldn’t possibly get a permit for this next demolition job, he could certainly try and do so for the one after it; no promises, obviously, but seeing as he was the main star of the show, to the point where the company quite literally couldn’t function without him, he had a certain amount of pull to draw from. Unfortunately, what he lacked was the sort of self-restraint needed to keep himself focused on the task at hand when provided with a distraction of a draconic kind, something that didn’t go unnoticed as far as his superiors were concerned; rumours had reached the corporate hierarchy that he’d gotten together with someone, rumours that spoke of such unspeakably scandalous things that the first thing he was asked after coming back to work for the first time in months was whether or not he had his head firmly on his shoulders or if he needed something extra to keep him focused. Lewis didn’t know whether to laugh at how idiotic the charade was or to be offended that they thought so little of him, but he played along anyway, believing himself to be above such petty nonsense… a belief that wouldn’t pan out nearly as well as he would’ve liked it to. For as much as he had convinced himself that he was more than capable of compartmentalizing his love life away from his professional one, it was hard to just cut Jackson out of his mind completely, especially after spending such a long time with him absent any supervision. Months spent in one another’s company had created a new normal, one that couldn’t just be turned off the moment the fox found himself at work again, one that insisted on asserting itself even at the worst of times; on the way over to the newest demolition site, a rather large moon orbiting a gas giant out in the boonies next to a mostly unexplored globular cluster, there were multiple close calls where the vulpine’s wandering mind got a bit too close for comfort to the many, many possibilities involving himself, his “lovely durg” at home, and the myriad of different things the two could do together behind a closed door. It was a testament to his self-control that none of them involved releasing his compressor gear at any level, but that didn’t stop them from being arousing enough to force the issue anyway, leading to the convoy having to make multiple stops in between hyperspace jumps just to make sure that the transport ship didn’t blow up midway through transit, replaced entirely by a much larger cock and a hungry pair of balls gurgling loud enough to be heard through vacuum. When asked if he “had his head in the game”, Lewis could only reply positively, attempting to make it known that he was firmly committed to the task at hand, but the more he repeated this ridiculous lie, the more he came to understand it as such; it was pointless to try and convince himself of something that was clearly false, and as soon as he came to that conclusion, so too did his attempts at deceiving the people paying him paycheck start to significantly dip in terms of effort and quality… then again, no one involved in the operation really wanted to rock the boat too hard, and so, while they knew that something was definitely off about the way Lewis was acting, chose to carry on as if everything was just as normal as before, jeopardizing… something. The notion that the fox might be worried about something else other than detonating a large planetary body was a new one, and no one in PD Inc. really knew what to expect when it came down to such a simple change in the status quo; they knew that it was a possibility, that their prize employee might one day find someone to warm their bed and be by their side when push came to shove, but it was seen as such a relatively minor thing that no one really thought to account for it. Much like Lewis himself, they assumed that it could just be pushed away, thought of as something separate from the job they were supposed to do, something that wouldn’t interfere; and yet, as the transport craft descended onto the surface of the moon and the stability of the vulpine’s compressor gear was slowly compromised, it was clear as day that something was going to go wrong, prompting those on-site to call up their HQ and ask for guidance on what to do next, much to Lewis’ consternation. Against all sense of logic or reason, he kept insisting that everything was perfectly fine, even when his cock had bulged out to nearly twice its regular size without the compressor gear having being loosened in the slightest, and his nuts had become so noisy as to make communication around him effectively impossible without it being written down; he was determined to make things work, if only to prove that he could still do his job even while slightly distracted about the person waiting for him back home, beset by the frankly ludicrous notion that he might be pressured into giving up his love life for the sake of the company if it came down to it. He loved Jackson, he truly did, but the last thing he needed was to be fired because he wanted to be happy with them for a change, rather than a thing to be used whenever the company decided they needed a contract fulfilled; fortuitously, the company itself thought along the same lines as well, responding to the emergency call by pointing out that the crew was free to wait it out for a couple of days if they thought it was necessary to give Lewis some room, seeing as they had plenty of time to blow the moon up before the client even began to think about inquiries. Thus began a rather uncomfortable week for the fox, who, in the interest of “sobering” him up, was forbidden from making any calls back home, his attendant technicians perhaps believing that if they could keep the dragon out of sight, they could also excise them from Lewis’ mind; in the end, this did very little but make the vulpine think about what he was missing even more, which was only resolved when he practically threw a temper tantrum and demanded to be allowed to speak to Jackson, a conversation which lasted close to four hours, spanned multiple subjects that had nothing to do about the situation at hand, and yet somehow managed to do more for the fox’s condition that any amount of painkillers and libido suppressants ever could. An entire standard afternoon, “wasted” (as the techies saw it) talking about “pointless shit”... but it did ultimately get Lewis’ body to calm down, almost like it was given the fix it was looking for and decided that enough was enough; after a few hours more of observation, the physicians determined that the vulpine was ready for demolition work and gave the team the go-ahead: the next day, the living wrecking ball would be deployed to the moon’s surface. As dawn came (or at least as close to dawn on a temporary orbital habitat next to a brown dwarf), Lewis hopped out of bed sporting a large smile, ready to take on whatever the universe threw at him; it was one of those days where he just felt like doing a million things at once only to never finish any of them, to look back at after he came down from the high and realize that he probably should’ve exercised some restraints. Luckily, he had a whole team of people whose job it was to hold him back and tell him what to do, and so, after a hearty breakfast, he was sent over to the detonation target along the customary package full of stimulants and aphrodisiacs to inject into himself once the time was right. From there, things progressed the way they usually did, with the memory of the past week’s worth of misadventures a distant one; Lewis was entirely focused on his work, and didn’t even think about Jackson once… at least until he was already cock-deep into the lower levels of the moon’s crust, at which point it was too late to do anything about it. The volatile cocktail of drugs designed to make him go absolutely wild while also giving him the energy boost required to break through a planetary body was ravaging his bloodstream and neurochemistry, leaving him a complete mess that couldn’t even begin to be governed; it was the perfect, most fertile ground for a certain type of idea to take root in and sprout, the sort of thoughts that involved theorizing what would happen if he were to ram that cock into Jackson’s tight butt rather than a literal moon, of what would happen in this theoretical state of existence whe he could actually do such a thing without breaking the laws of physics as everyone knew them, or cause enough injury as for it to be permanent. It was exactly the sort of thinking that had led the team to waste an entire week on trying to calm Lewis down, but it came at what perhaps the only right time for it; after all, the fox was trying to break apart a small moon using nothing but his prodigious size and his predilection for immense inserts, with the ultimate goal being for him to cumshot his way into detonating the core deep underneath him, so what better way to enhance this than to resort to natural forms of arousal, rather than artificial ones? Not only was it purer (and conveniently cheaper, given the lack of need for stimulants), but if the seismic readings coming from the moon were any indication, several times stronger than whatever drug Lewis had ever been given; he blazed through the typical size progression, forcing his attendant team of technicians to progressively release their coworker’s compressor gear at a much faster rate than usual, enough that they had to ask the fox to tone it down for fear that he would “break something”, even if it wasn’t clear what this “something” might be. But the vulpine didn’t care; how could he, when his dick was bigger than an arcology and his balls had begun to unleash their full destructive potential upon the unsuspecting moon? How could he begin to care when he was in full breeder mode, when his mind insisted on picturing that bit of ground he was thrusting into as Jackson, filling his mind with images of himself and the dragon, railing one another in turns in the safety and privacy of their bedroom. It was an idle fantasy, given the size difference between them, and one that Lewis knew for a fact was dangerous to nurture, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop; he enjoyed thinking about it, enjoyed wondering what it would be like to just give up entirely, walk up to his draconic lover, and suggest that they try something, anything, just to see what their reaction would be. Disgust? Avarice? A complete and utter disregard for personal safety as they nodded to it so quickly their neck nearly snapped from the strain? Anything was possible, and this sense of uncertainty, mixed with the freedom that the choice would give the budding couple, was enough to fuel an explosive climax of a power unlike any that Planetary Demolitions Inc. had ever seen; with them being used to a set schedule, having their moon target detonated a good minute or so before it was supposed to caught everyone by surprise, so much so that they nearly failed to teleport Lewis back in time, and even then had to active the compressor remotely midway through the load-up sequence, the shock so great that it made everyone forget how to do their jobs properly. By the time the fox was back on the ship, the team just barely managed to avoid thoroughly wrecking their craft by way of excessive size, and even then it was clear that the compressor clothes were struggling to hold back an expansion of size that had far outstripped their capacity to hold back without serious damage. All the crew could do was rush back to their nearest large-scale headquarters and dump the fox into a containment zone until they were ready to behave again; they’d need to clean up after a veritable cum flood, enough to require several ventings into deep space, but it was better than stretching their luck even further. The thought of having to explain to his superiors why he had nearly botched a demolition job didn’t even cross Lewis’ mind however, not while he was still so beset by the kind of thoughts that led to the near-disaster in the first place; now that he was free to unleash himself upon the universe, without having to worry about potentially costing the company far more money than he himself would ever see, there was nothing holding him back from just screaming for Jackson’s name, desperate for their companionship as he was. The vulpine didn’t truly become aware of just how much he missed his partner until given a chance to appreciate his absence, which was about as clichéd as one might expect, but still a fundamentally novel experience for someone who had never had a serious relationship in his life; not knowing how to handle these emotions, Lewis did the only thing he did know how to do, and spent a good standard day or two just… releasing. Months upon months of being backed-up, only having his nuts drained of the bare minimum required to keep him functional, months of dealing with someone who turned his life upside-down in ways that he couldn’t have ever expected, set loose inside a dimensional distortion bubble that was guaranteed to hold him back from destroying most of his surroundings, even if it did force PD Inc. to call for extra backup in the form of literally anyone on their payroll who would answer the phone. Little did Lewis know that he had been delivered to a large orbital platform in a heavily populated system, one that no one could afford to see him wreck, lest he rack up so many damages that the total number overflowed any calculator unfortunate enough to be used for the inevitable insurance claims; the sheer number of people required to keep the compressor zone active, as well as the auxiliary systems meant to drain away all of the thick spunk coming out of the vulpine’s body at a rate too great to be measured, ensured that the pocket of space around the station was clogged with shuttlecraft and personal transport ships, most of which had to be left in a lazy orbit around the large planet below them. Every thirty minutes or so, the whole platform had to be rotated and aimed away from any direction that might contain sentients within at least a couple of light-years, so that their vents could open and hundreds of thousands of gallons of cum could be shot out into space, at speeds high enough to easily beat most commercially available spacecraft. For those on the planet’s surface, what they were seeing was… difficult to explain; some of them had heard rumours about the megacorp who owned that orbital station, but never did they expect to see the real thing in action. How little did they understand of just what Lewis was capable of, which made it even more impressive when those who were aware of him were still cowed into submission purely from watching the thick globs of cum being fired off into deep space; surely, if this behemoth they heard about could do something like that, then who knew what they’d be able to do to a simple planet if they were ever in the mood for some destruction? As for the fox himself, he couldn’t find the ability to care inside of him; every hour he spent in glorious climax was yet another collection of sixty minutes that each left him hornier and more aroused by the second; he’d never had the opportunity to truly let go while thinking of someone like Jackson, always having relied on either raw instinct or whatever piece of smut media he’d consumed prior to the demolition job. Now that he had someone he truly cared about, someone who pressed every button he had and yet was also the sort of person that he could truly, honestly see himself spending the rest of his life with… it was different. Definitely better, in fact, but mostly just… different, in the sense that every load that came out of him felt like it meant something, rather than it just being an explosion of jizz on a scale that most sentients would never be capable of understanding. He could see himself blowing these loads inside of his mate, even if he knew, intellectually, that such a thing was impossible; he could see himself, riding an ass that was stretched out beyond belief, finding relief in someone who was both able and willing to take him at his fullest size, even when he understood that such a thing would never come to pass. But above all, he could see himself and Jackson locking eyes with one another, smiles spreading on their lips, as they both gave themselves to the very act of lovemaking; it wasn’t about being so huge that biology stopped mattering, nor was it about being the biggest (potential) breeder in the galaxy, but rather, it was about them, the two of them, together at last and sharing a moment of utmost intimacy… and that, that was what led Lewis to do things that he normally wouldn’t, such as deliberately stroking himself hard enough that his arms eventually went limp just after he triggered a series of explosive releases that would catapult him into a self-sustaining cumplosion. The station he was inside was going to rattle, this much he knew, and if he had to make excuses as to why that happened to the people signing his paychecks, then he’d just tell them exactly what the truth was: he’d met someone, they were perfect together, and he was, frankly, horny for some dragon ass. It wouldn’t be until a stunning four days later that the vulpine found his limit, four standard days where hundreds of specialized technicians had to work nearly round-the-clock shifts just to keep his dimensional bubble from popping, all while venting quantities of cum so absurd that they had already received several messages from the planet they were orbiting, asking if everything was fine and if they should initiate evacuation procedures. What was worse, no one in the corporate hierarchy really knew what to say; Lewis had never lost control the way that he did, and lacking any backup or contingency plans for the eventuality that he did, boardrooms the galaxy over turned to infighting and finger-pointing, hoping to find someone to pin the blame on after the countless amounts of seed inevitably hit something at some distant point in the future. Thankfully for everyone involved, the fox would simmer down on his own, though not without an extensive, several-hour-long wind-down during which he seemed to produce even more than before, perhaps a last hurrah before he finally went dry; four days, and then it was over, Lewis sitting in one corner of the containment zone, barely capable of breathing, thinking, or even so much as existing without anything to prop him up. It took the combined efforts of several medical teams to keep him from falling into a prolonged stupor, and even then the poor guy was left under heavy observation for nearly a full week afterwards, just to make sure there was no lasting damage done to his system. Against all odds, not only was the vulpine perfectly healthy, but he seemed to be downright eager to repeat what he had just done; rather than becoming terrified at the prospect of losing control, like everyone had hoped he would be, Lewis couldn’t help but have a wide smile on his face whenever anyone recounted what he’d done, or in those few occasions where he allowed himself to remember details from those four, absolutely insane days. He couldn’t afford more than just the absolute barest of details though; if he tried to go for more, tried to dig through his memories for something a bit more substantial, it was basically guaranteed that he would kickstart yet another explosive cycle, and it was already bad enough that half of his hospital bed was taken up by his package already. It took until the very end of the week before the company sent a representative over to ask him some questions, mostly innocuous stuff that didn’t really matter for anything other than obligatory medical insurance check-ups; it wasn’t until the checklist was done and dusted that the rep turned to him and asked the question that everyone knew had to be asked: “What caused this?”

There were a lot of ways Lewis could answer that, some of which might even let him keep his relationship with Jackson out of the corporate spotlight. None of them, however, were even remotely fair to the dragon, especially not if he himself was actually serious about pursuing a deeper, more long-lasting relationship with them; besides, given the sort of work that PD Inc. did, it was critical that they be given as much vital and accurate information as possible, since, after all, they might just be able to offer their star employee some much needed perspective on what to do going forward. So Lewis told them; he told them everything: how he had met Jackson, how the two had hit it off, how they’d spent most of the intervening time since the previous demolition job exploring their new relationship together, and especially how he felt about sharing a life with the durg, and what exactly that meant for him. The vulpine didn’t spare on the details either, even when the representative’s face was beet-red and the man was clearly trying to tell him to stop; it was imperative, Lewis assumed, for the company to understand what it was like to be in his headspace, and to that end, he had to let them know what sort of feelings his mate awoke in him, even if they were exceptionally lewd. To their credit, the rabbit in the stuffy business suit listened to him from start to finish, even past the point where they tried to move their ears in such a way as to muffle them against the side of their head; despite Lewis’ insistence, they didn’t write anything down, instead excusing themselves at the very end and promising to relay “all the sordid details” to the rest of the corporate hierarchy, something the fox seriously doubted would happen given the sheer depth that he had gone to to explain everything. Still, maybe the bun had a really good memory, that was also possible; just as long as they got the message through, then the fox could rest easy knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything, because the company would certainly find some way to help him reconcile his home life with his career. Despite this, Lewis wasn’t at all surprised that Jackson wasn’t allowed to visit him; though he found the decision callous, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t also do it if he were in his bosses’ position, given the sort of damage he was sure to have wrought in his four-day bender. As much as he missed the dragon’s presence by his side, the vulpine understood that the last thing he needed was to be even hornier than before, lest he turn the infirmary into a hyper-pressurized, gelatinous cube of near-solid spunk just from his first load alone; heavens above only knew what would happen to the poor planet or moon that was in the path where his excess seed was fired towards, because whatever it was, it would quickly cease to be the moment the four days’ worth of cum splatter started landing.

Despite all of this, the demolition job itself was completed within the allotted time and, despite the close call, without any unnecessary costs, at least in the absolute most technical of terms; truth be told, while PD Inc. had committed itself to maintaining a “compression room” in every observation station, they didn’t intend for them to see any real use, given the amount of money and resources that had to be thrown at them for even the smallest amount of operating time… let alone the four days that Lewis spent inside one, pumping away like there was no tomorrow. It was a barely a dent in the profit margins, but a noticeable loss nonetheless, enough so that it didn’t stop at just one company rep, nor did it end with a single visit from HR; it felt as if the corporate structure was very interested in finding out what exactly the vulpine intended to do with their new relationship, and they didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer, regardless of how many times the fox let them know he had no intention of discussing his personal life with a bunch of people he’d never even met. It took the CEO coming down himself before anything got done, and even then the conversation that ensued was less one between business partners, and far more two friends having a spat, as that was, in essence, what they were; Dorden and Lewis had the initial idea for Planetary Demolition Inc., back when the mere thought of venture capital seemed like a pipe dream, and though their respective paths had diverged wildly thanks to their unique skillset, the two were nevertheless about as close as one could get. It was the sort of friendship that survived months without contact, where one of them could easily pick up the phone and schedule something, and the two would be shooting the shit about whatever random topic came to them as if they hadn’t spent close to a year (or more) without seeing one another. That they should meet under those circumstances was less than fortuitous, especially since Dorden was unequivocally hurt that he hadn’t known about Jackson, nor how much they meant to someone that he was wont to call a close personal friend; plenty of words were shared, most of which were agitated, some of which would be exceedingly difficult to take back, and in the end, both men were left tired, shaking, and very much ready to come to blows, at least until the CEO’s personal secretary intervened in time and led their boss away from a potential disaster area. Now in silence again, all Lewis could do was stare at the ceiling, wondering where everything had gone wrong, kicking himself over having completely forgotten about Dorden; it was so easy to think of the man as his boss, so easy to forget that they had a history stretching back years, far more than with the dragon waiting for him back home, so easy to pretend like they were being the unreasonable one, and he hadn’t nearly botched a demolition job because he was too horny to focus properly. It was easy, yes, but not foolproof, and it didn’t take long before the first cracks in this third-rate armour began to spread, leaving his psyche increasingly vulnerable to assaults from without and within; all the fox could do was stop himself from breaking down completely, biting back tears as he wondered whether or not he should call Dorden and let them know that he was sorry, that he wanted to take back everything that was said (well, most of everything at least), and that he was open to just talk like they used to back in the day… yet, at the same time, he also wanted to talk to Jackson, if only to make sure that they were alright, that they were still waiting for him back home, that he wouldn’t come back to an empty house and realize that everything had been for nothing. An interesting line of thinking, and one borne of nothing but mindless paranoia, but the entire sequence of events had left the vulpine wondering whether or not he’d been having too much of a good thing, and now the universe was about to turn around and slap him across the face for daring to think they could ever be happy with anything. Which… wasn’t the sort of thinking he was accustomed to; in fact, just that realization alone was enough to snap him out of his funk, because obviously he wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t the sort of person to go off on doom spirals, nor was he so sad and pathetically lonely that he would assume that whoever liked him must clearly be pretending; honestly, the more he thought about it, the more this depressive moment felt like an anomaly and a half, something that came out of nowhere, perhaps instigated by some great, unseen enemy… or maybe just the colossal influx of hormones that came with the four-day climax that left him close to a complete bodily collapse, that could also be it. He sighed, looking out the window to see that the station had rotated just enough for him to be able to see the moon he cracked open; it was as every other had been: a bunch of chunks, all flimsily held together by their collective gravitational pull, with a massive, condensed glob of cum at the very center where he had detonated the core. Like it were many others, and there would be others more, at least if he had anything to say about it; in fact, he had a few words he’d like to share with Dorden, words that would be better served if he employed them right there and then, while he still had the mental capacity to do so; thus began the longest phone call of his life, where the vulpine spent the following three or so hours going on, at length, about how sorry he was about everything, how much he wanted to pay back, but, ultimately, how he had a plan for dealing with his infatuation and any problems that might arise because of it. ‘Twas a stupid plan, a ridiculous plan, a plan fraught with so many issues that it was genuinely miraculous that the CEO of any company would allow it, let alone the one for PD Inc., but it was a plan, and something was better than nothing; besides, it helped to rectify some of the mistakes Lewis had made, plus it served as an excuse to introduce Jackson to the good folks over at the demolition crew. After all, what could be better for everyone’s mental sanity than inviting the dragon over to observe during one of their demolition jobs? It felt like it should work, in that instinctive, base level of understanding that was more often than not proved wrong upon first contact with reality, but then again, Lewis was a seemingly-normal vulpine that was nonetheless capable of cracking open large planets by fucking them, so he wasn’t exactly working with the sturdiest of logic there; normal people didn’t orgasm for four days straight just because they thought about their current partner, and normal people certainly didn’t have to make contingency plans just in case they lost control over their own productivity, so as far as Lewis cared, bringing Jackson along was probably the sanest thing he could suggest. Dorden, for his part, seemed to agree, even if reluctantly, and only under the condition that he get to meet the dragon personally beforehand; though the other vulpine mentioned that it was strictly a business decision, “taking care of his assets” as he put it, they weren’t nearly good enough at lying to their friend that Lewis didn’t pick up on the actual reason within moments. Still, he thought it best not to bring it up; perhaps this was the only way that his friend could ask to see his newest lover, at least without it being awkward, and as soon as they got a couple of drinks on the table, all stuffiness would melt away and they’d be back at their usual bullshit, arguing over entirely pointless things that absolutely no one cared about. It was with this certainty that Lewis looked forward to their “date”, a word that he insisted on using whenever he brought it up with Dorden,  much to the latter’s consternation; the CEO insisted it was nothing of the sort, the planet cracker declared otherwise, and the bureaucratic staff that had been assigned specifically for that meeting snickered in the corner of the room where they believed no one could see them. Days passed, with Lewis eventually being allowed to return home from observation; he would find his precious durg waiting for him in the passenger bay area, having apparently taken a shuttle to come meet him before he even had the chance to leave the station at all. In fact, the fox barely got two steps into the wide-open space before he saw Jackson sprinting towards him at full tilt, and a moment later he was flat on the ground with the guy directly above him, barraging him with questions about what had happened, why it had happened, was he alright, did he need help? Lewis figured it was best to let his better half get everything out of their system before responding, which he did by way of leaning upwards and planting a kiss on the dragon’s lips; a couple of blushes later, the two were back on their feet and pretending as if that little scene hadn’t happened, which wasn’t made easy by the fact that everyone working in that station was on the company payroll in some way or another, and thus all had a vested interest in making sure the main reason they still had a job wasn’t doing something stupid. Mercifully, their transport shuttle was ready to leave, and though Lewis fumbled a bit trying to get into a smaller model than he was accustomed to, they were soon heading back home; the journey itself still took a couple of hours, giving the fox plenty of time to break the news about the scheduled meeting with as much tact and care as he could muster… only to have Jackson enthusiastically reply that he was delighted to meet Dorden, and had in fact been waiting for such an opportunity for quite a while by that point. At his partner’s look of surprise, the dragon jokingly asked if the fox had seriously expected him not to know of the relationship between the two of them, prompting Lewis to remember that, despite him doing his best to stay out of the limelight, he was technically a minor celebrity, with all the unfortunate public exposure that came with it. The rest of the spaceflight was thus filled with Jackson loudly wondering whether they should bring a gift, what sort of gift, how much of said gift, as well as a million different questions that, frankly, Lewis couldn’t bring himself to care about; the worst was over, the storm had passed, and rather than it having been rough sailing all the way through, it had been almost insultingly easy. In fact, it was too easy; surely, after such a close call back in the demolition job, the universe wouldn’t just let him get away with resolving the situation so thoroughly and with such little effort… which was precisely why he found it so strange that time flew, nothing of substance took place, and before he even knew it the fox was waking up one day with the durg by his side energetically reminding him that they were supposed to go meet his friend-slash-paycheck signer in just a couple of hours. It was so easy to lose track of things when every day Lewis spent with Jackson was one where everything melted together into one long, near-transcendent experience; it was as if the dragon had magical powers, ones that didn’t let their partner truly go through life the way they used to. For Lewis though, this was hardly something worth complaining about; he was on cloud nine as far as he was concerned, and wouldn’t trade his new life with his better half for anything else in the galaxy.

The conspicuous lack of anything going wrong kept hounding the fox all the way throughout the lunch meet-up. Contrary to what he had expected, things went… perfectly fine. The three of them met, Jackson and Dorden exchanged pleasantries, and, just as predicted, words began flowing just as easily as the wine did, though never to the point of it becoming excessive; most of the talking was done between the two folks who’d never met one another, with Lewis remaining by the wayside, content in letting things happen. He had no clue what to do, no idea how to proceed, beyond simply allowing fate to take its course without trying to interrupt it; more than once he had to be reminded that he was still there, until he remembered to intervene a couple of times with a well-timed nod or a meaningless interjection, and just as quickly, him and his partner were back in their shuttle headed back home, with Jackson happily recounting the whole experience as if the vulpine hadn’t been there. As far as Lewis cared, the only thing that mattered was that things took the best possible turn, especially after how critically close they came to becoming a boiling point, so he was content to allow his better half to just yammer on about a million different things that didn’t exactly register with him; it wasn’t the best he could do as their mate, but the entire sequence of events had left the fox so utterly emotionally exhausted that, for the first time in a week or so, he finally felt like he could relax and stop clenching his muscles all the time… especially since he didn’t have any actual demolition jobs lined up. That alone was enough to get him back into the groove, since, while it had (apparently, he wasn’t listening) been decided that Jackson could come along for the next planetary cracking, there just wasn’t one on the schedule, leaving the couple with plenty of time to do whatever they felt like doing, just like before. And just like before, the days melted together into weeks and the weeks into months as time coursed ever onwards; Lewis knew that each second that passed was a second closer to being called for a job, this much was obvious, but as long as he didn’t receive the call from work, or an email telling him to get ready because someone had contacted PD Inc. with a proposal, then he could delude himself into thinking that he could lead a normal life with Jackson. Never mind the fact that he was still so utterly enormous below the waist that the two of them could never truly experience a proper sex life, never mind how their intimacy had to be carefully monitored, lest it make short work of the compression gear that Lewis had on; sometimes, he wasn’t even thinking about when he’d get to fuck something that wasn’t in an orbit with something else, for all he really needed were those precious moments where he sat beside his beloved dragon on the couch, not really watching whatever was on TV, basking in one another’s presence in a golden silence. It was sappy, sure, but it was his sappy and he loved it; so did Jackson, if the kind of murring noises they made during those occasions were any indication, so why should he try for anything different? It was odd, feeling fulfilled on such a deep, almost spiritual level, but the vulpine wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when his situation was already as precarious as it was… and no sooner had he begun to grow accustomed to this, perhaps even expectant of this sort of oversized normality, than he woke up one morning to see several text messages from work, giving him every detail on the next job the company was contracted to perform. For Lewis, this hardly came as a surprise; it felt as if the universe knew exactly when to hit him for maximum efficiency, so of course he would be wrenched away from the love of his life just when he was starting to get accustomed to the idea of having someone he cared about that deeply… at least, until he remembered that Jackson had been allowed to go with him so they could watch, at which point something else flared up inside Lewis’ mind: an odd, almost nonsensical mixture of stage fright and performance anxiety. It was as if all the concerns he would have had, should the two have been capable of engaging in intercourse, had just been shunted towards his unique skill set, as if his ability to crack open a planet had become the next big thing by which Jackson would evaluate him by; what if he almost failed like last time? What if he did fail? What if he couldn’t… well, get it up properly, ridiculous as that idea might sound? What if, what if, what if, repeated ad nauseum in his own mind for the few seconds after reading the text messages, after which he was broken out of this doom spiral by way of Jackson himself, sleeping beside him, tapping his back and telling him to go back to being the big spoon; just like that, whatever worries the fox had vanished into the aether, and the moment of panic revealed itself to be just that: a moment. Worrying about what the durg might think of him was positively laughable, because of course Jackson would be there for him regardless of what happened, even if he botched up the demolition job; doubly so once he actually got around to reading the more detailed files, revealing that PD Inc. had been contracted to once again blow apart a small moon that had been scanned positive for vast opal deposits. Why, he could probably crack that thing open while half-flaccid and still not notice what he was doing; why should he worry at all?

Jackson’s enthusiasm at being able to see his hubby in action was, if nothing else, commendable; though Lewis did his best to let him know that there was no chance he’d be allowed planetside (moonside?) during the actual demolition process, seeing as the dragon would have to be relegated to watching it remotely just like everyone else, his mate had somehow convinced himself that it would be the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. No matter how many times the actual expert let them know that the process itself was quite dull, at least for an observer, the durg refused to relent, having convinced themselves that it would be a paradigm-shifting experience purely by virtue of being what it was. Such was their energy, their conviction, that it was Lewis who began to crack, wondering to himself if he was the odd one out; maybe he’d become so used to the idea of fucking large planetary bodies into shreds that he’d forgotten how laughably impossible that idea would sound to the average person, and indeed the great number of people who earnestly believed that PD Inc. was somehow running some kind of scam, as they refused to accept that any one person could be responsible for single-handedly cracking open even smaller moons. Maybe this was the regular reaction that people should have when being told they would get to watch their partner sticking their dick inside something big enough to be on a star chart, only to then keep thrusting until it was no longer fit to be in one; hell, just thinking about it in those terms was enough to make Lewis reconsider his perspective on his job, to the point where him and Jackson shared plenty of hearty laughs about how farcical it was that the fox made a living by “dicking planets until they came”, among other, even crasser remarks. Their outward effusiveness inspired absolutely no confidence whatsoever in the transportation crew assigned to take the couple from their home over to the target, but a few well-placed words were enough to assuage their fears that everything was perfectly fine… even if neither Jackson nor Lewis were exactly sure that it was. Perhaps it was the electrically charged atmosphere between them, or maybe the simple fact that they were taking a large step forward in their relationship, even if in the oddest of ways, but they felt… different. Not bad in any way, but almost like they weren’t themselves, but rather passengers inside their own bodies, waiting to see what might happen next, acting mostly on instinct and repetition than any sort of intentional behavior; Lewis went so far as to jokingly suggest that Jackson had spiked their orange juice in the morning, to which the dragon was conspicuously silent, offering only a stare that could be interpreted in a million different ways, every single one of which was worse than the last. The fox could only rely on his knowing that he didn’t feel all that aroused to hold onto the belief that he hadn’t been drugged… that, and the fact that surely the durg wouldn’t be so stupid as to do something like that, especially on such a big day. They were probably just nervous now that they were actually being taken to the demolition site, and he himself had felt similarly to this before, so it was likely only the result of everything that had happened taking its toll; while the fox felt undeniably better than he did before his boss and boyfriend met, there were still some residual concerns left over thanks to Jackson’s presence, concerns which he believed would evaporate once the moon was cracked open and the two of them were in one another’s arms again. Such thoughts kept him mostly unfocused during the preparation phase of the demolition, where he had to be tapped on the face multiple times in order to pay attention to what he was being told, and to check that his equipment was strapped on properly; he still mostly ran on muscle memory, not particularly feeling it that day, so much so that, if it weren’t for his mate being there watching for him, the end result might very well have been a technically opened moon, but not necessarily one blasted apart with as much gusto as some of the other ones he was responsible for. Still, he did what he had to do, all the way to the planet’s surface, where he eventually found himself being some last-minute encouragements on the part of the dragon by way of a communications device that one of the crewmembers brought along; seeing as there wasn’t a direct link between the observation room set up just for Jackson and the frequency that Lewis and the rest of the personnel were operating on, the two had to rely on crude sign language to get their points across… and quite literally so on the durg’s part: they hastily picked up a bunch of paper sheets and began scribbling on them, trying to get as much out before the operation was set to begin and the fox was left alone to do his magic. A series of small messages ensued, starting off perfectly innocuous… and then…

LOVE U <3

YOULL DO GREAT

BTW DID ACTUALLY PUT STUFF IN YOUR COFFEE <3

The techie holding the device didn’t see what was being displayed on it. In fact, none but Lewis did. In fact, as far as any of them cared, these were just two lovers exchanging heartfelt words… which wasn’t technically that far off.

But they all heard the rumbling though.

And the tearing of the compression gear.