Changes - Part 3 (Patreon Commission for ShrapnelTheWolf)

TAGS: Hyper/Hyper Everything (eventually), Growth/Expansion, Cumflation, M/F, Room-Filling Sizes, House Destruction

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Both Shrapnel and Liz had to exercise a significant amount of self-restraint not to instantly reply with a loud, simultaneous “Yes!”, but this wouldn’t really matter in the long run, considering the state that the younger serval was in. Seeing as her mom was obviously keeping tabs on them, it was just a matter of time before they realized that something was off about their daughter’s belly, and from there… well, who knew? The only certainty was that neither of the two lovebirds felt like hiding it anymore, and so, just as Cynthia kept trying to admonish them for not considering the consequences for their actions, they resolved to keep quiet, staring back at the older feline to see how long it would take them to figure out something was wrong. Granted, she was worried enough that it took more than a few minutes of ranting about property damage and potential exponential growth, none of which really filtered back down to the two people who should most be listening to it, after which something finally clicked inside of her and the serval noticed the two large grins staring back at her. Her mind had to backpedal, trying to remember where in her condemnations she had said something funny, but as she tried to contain her flailing, her eyes happened to glance towards her daughter, high atop the throne of tits attached to their chest… and towards the noticeably swollen, clearly still bloating belly they sported. In an instant, the older serval’s stony, irritated expression mellowed out, melting into the widest, most beaming smile that one could possibly imagine; truly, a motherly switch had been flipped inside of her head, because when she next opened her mouth, what came out weren’t words, but something of a babbling sob mixed together with pseudo-baby noises, most of which seemed to be made without Cynthia realizing it as her brain tried to process the concept that she was about to become a grandmother, and her little Liz had finally grown up to be a true adult. Both the younger serval and the wolf beside her breathed a sigh of relief, believing themselves to have cleared the danger zone, but what neither of them could know was that all they’d done was buy themselves a little grace period before Cynthia’s sentient functioning returned… at which point, things would veer towards a much more dangerous and expansive direction.

For the motherly instincts that seeing a gravid belly had triggered in Cynthia weren’t merely circumscribed to feelings of pride for her daughter, or the remembrance of her time being pregnant with Elizabeth; they also had the rather unfortunate side effect of awakening a certain few desires within the older woman, desires she hadn’t had fulfilled since Liz’s father had knocked her up and then left for parts unknown. The idea of ever being pregnant again had slipped from Cynthia’s mind since then, mostly because she had her daughter to take care of, partly because of the effects it had on her body; but as she stood there, trying and failing to climb onto a pair of tits that shouldn’t be as large as they were to try and massage a gravid tum that grew bigger with each passing second, something occurred to her: clearly, Elizabeth could take care of themselves, as they were a big girl now, which left plenty of time for Cynthia to try and explore avenues of pleasure that she had denied herself up until that point. More specifically, if her daughter was ready to move on and have a life of their own, then clearly she herself was open to yet another good breeding, preferably one that’d leave her body at least halfway as ridiculously proportioned as Elizabeth’s; it wasn’t as if she was jealous of her daughter’s body (she was) or felt bad about not being as blessed when she became pregnant years prior (she did), it was just… well, Liz’s tits were bigger than hers could ever be, and that just wasn’t fair. She was her mother, after all, and that meant she deserved the bigger milkers, even if it meant using less than orthodox methods to get them. Like Shrapnel!

Her head veered towards the young wolf, eyes gleaming with a predatory flame that made her soon-to-be-lover’s spirit drop once he looked back and saw who, or better yet what, was staring at him. That wasn’t Cynthia, the kind serval with an odd penchant for performative displays of bigness that he’d grown accustomed to; this was an animal, a beast in search of someone to rut her, to fill her with seed until she, too, ballooned outwards with young, the same kind of luck that some part of Shrapnel remembered seeing in Elizabeth when the two of them were stuck in the room fucking one another senseless. And once Cynthia took a step forward closer to him, once the distance between the two became increasingly smaller, Shrapnel realized that he couldn’t get away from it all; he was stuck between the serval on his front, the wall to his back, and Elizabeth’s bust to his side, leaving only a small opening to the left if he wanted to run away… but did he want to run? Did he want to toss away such an opportunity, to breed not just Elizabeth, but Cynthia as well, to suddenly have two lovers with whom he could share his endless, bottomless sex drive, two gorgeous, beautiful, funny, entertaining and frankly amazing women who he’d adore the opportunity to be around more? Now that he thought about it, wouldn’t it be best if all three of them went into this together? That way, he and Elizabeth could stay at Cynthia’s place, maybe expand it a bit to help deal with the influx of babies that were sure to come out of his breeder instincts being unleashed; he wasn’t thinking about the practical implications, the reasons for wanting this to happen, or hell, if Liz even wanted it herself. All the wolf could think about was that busty, lustful serval walking towards him, ripping her shirt off to reveal her tits in their full splendour, milk already pouring out and daring him to take another sip, another mouthful, to gorge himself on it and grow even bigger than before… and just like that, he was pinned against the wall, one nipple forced into his mouth and pouring what felt like gallons of milk down his throat, with the other making its way downwards as Cynthia dragged it across his body, towards what felt li-oh no.

Before he could do anything about it, he felt it: the second nipple, unceremoniously shoved directly into his sheath, triggering all sorts of beeps and woops from his collar, the compressor gear practically screeching in order to let him know that something had breached the compression perimeter and endangered the stability of the entire field, this was easily silence by a couple of well-placed taps on Cynthia’s part, though she didn’t go as far as to actually remove the collar itself. Rather, she dug into her, managing to place a single finger in between it and Shrapnel’s neck… which she then used to yank the wolf’s head even further onto her nipple, almost to the point where he couldn’t open his mouth wide enough to take it all, at the same time as she heaved her whole body forward to try and press as much of herself into her new lover as possible. Behind her, Liz was clapping, cackling like a maniac as she offered both encouragements and very lewd suggestions as to what her mother should do in order to get the best rise out of Shrapnel, including all of his “sweet spots” that always made him melt whenever they were stimulated in the slightest. Cynthia didn’t even hear half of it, and even if she had, it was doubtful that she’d care much; her daughter might be knocked up, but she had years of experience on her, and if there was anyone there who would find out just what made Shrapnel melt like putty, then she was determined that it would be her, with no help required. Granted, it wasn’t exactly hard considering she had her nipples stuffed into two very sensitive places and was already pouring with so much milk the collar compressor was clearly about to give out and release the wolf’s full size into the world, but that hardly mattered; she did, after all, have one of her engorged teats inside his sheath, so as soon as the cock came out of it, where would it go? Exactly. Then her daughter would see just what growth was like, when handled by those who weren’t afraid to take risks and adopt more unorthodox strategies; hell, the older serval wasn’t even thinking about where she was anymore, nor the fact that the only reason the three of them were there was to stop unnecessary growth explosions. The only thing left in that lust-addled mind of hers was the need to be bred, and the intense, burning desire to grow unabated… and that wolf, right there in front of her, was the key to that.

Not that Shrapnel had much of a choice in the matter, but he did seemingly accept his new fate with ample amounts of enthusiasm, if the way he hugged the tit pushed against his mouth was any indication. The young man threw his arms forward, holding as much of the mound’s soft flesh as he could while simultaneously trying to milk it in a rather uncoordinated and amateurish fashion; it was obvious he needed proper guidance in that matter, guidance that Cynthia was more than happy to provide as she moved her hands closer to his and slowly intertwined their fingers, that she may demonstrate how one properly milked a breast as big as that one. No such help was required for the nipple shoved into his sheath though; the momma serval had to exercise a lot of willpower not to constantly moan whenever she felt the wolf’s hips buck forward, the faintest hint of his cocktip already already trying to push inside of her. This was a dangerous game she was playing, one that could only result in the three of them growing uncontrollably massive, but she no longer cared; she wanted to be bred, not just to be knocked up, but be bred like an animal, to feel that primal rush of endorphins as her insides were painted white and her body bloated in every direction to help compensate for the young that were sure to come. Surely, if her daughter took so easily to it, then that must mean Shrapnel was very virile, and if that much were true, Cynthia was going to milk him for every last drop.

So what if there were alarms blaring around them already? She could easily ignore them, all three of them could. So what if the collar compressor on Shrapnel’s neck began to complain about reaching “maximum sizes” and “fluid build-up” or other such nonsense? She knew exactly how to mute it in a way that bypassed all the backup safety measures, letting the two of them enjoy their moment together without anything interrupting them. For every problem, there was a solution; even the rush of boots outside as the security staff came thundering down the hallway could be easily solved by Liz showing some initiative and dragging herself back so her tits blocked the door, keeping the room nice and clear and empty of anyone trying to stop them from thoroughly enjoying themselves. Sure, they were most likely going to end up bursting free of the building and needing compressors of a much higher grade than the ones already being used, assuming any could be found that could physically fit them, but that was a concern for future Cynthia, future Liz and future Shrapnel; their present versions had only one thing they should worry about:

Breeding.