Plans? (Patreon Commission for Strowh)

TAGS: Some Hyper, Introspective Narrative, Paranoia, SHOCKING TWIST

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He was up to something, and they were going to prove it. There was absolutely no way that the draolf was just hanging around doing absolutely nothing of substance after what happened the last time the two of them went out for dinner, not after the sort of comments that were made and the kind of aggressively lewd behaviour that was indulged in; no, there had to be some kind of hidden plan, an agenda of sorts, something that Spikes was trying to do in order to catch them off-guard. The alternative, that the draolf was acting completely normally and not spending an inordinate amount of time working in the shadows to try and deliberately steer the two of them towards yet another (potentially public) growthsplosion, was so… mundane, to the point of being downright farcical. Their life together had been one long revolving series of strikes and counter-attacks, whereby one of them would do something, the other would reply in kind, and things just sort of escalated until it was perfectly normal for them to end up growing out of control in the middle of a crowded restaurant, smothering everyone in sight with a much larger than usual amount of nutflesh, followed by a nice, refreshing cum bath. It used to be that they were satisfied with the little things, back when the couple was content in assuming that their debauchery would never leave the bedroom, but as arms race carried on and neither Tim nor Spikes were in any way willing to admit “defeat”, then things could only truly go in one direction… hence why, the previous week, the two of them had wrecked their favourite pizza place when they triggered two successive growth spurts that ended up completely destroying the whole place, very nearly putting the owner out of business if not for the fact that the hyper couple had an entire section for them on the state’s annual infrastructure budget. Still, it was enough to get them to simmer down for a couple of days, which, given their usual predilection for size and excess, was more than anyone could really hope for; that said, seeing as the lynx had been the one responsible for leading them down that path the last time, it was only fair that it be the draolf the one who took the reins for the next incident, which was surely going to be the biggest, most destructive one yet… but he didn’t. Instead, Spikes had not mentioned either what had happened previously, nor any plans to repeat it going forward, at all, leaving Tim feeling both perplexed and utterly terrified of what might be happening behind those kind, twinkling eyes, inside of the draolf’s sick little lewd mind. The fact that nothing happened, and that, for all intents and purposes, Spikes really was doing nothing in their free time apart from playing video games and working out, did nothing to abate the endless paranoia inside the feline’s head; for every moment their partner spent not actively working towards their next incident, then clearly whatever plan must be there became even more devious, certainly more complex as the web spun inside Spikes’ mind only became denser and more needlessly interconnected. The absence of any evidence became, in Tim’s mind at lest, evidence of an absence… an absence that had to be dealt with, if the lynx wanted to be able to sleep at night. They had been consumed by notions of a grandiose, multi-step grand plan that would inevitably spiral out of control until the whole city was involved in their next little incident, and while this much was a thought that warmed Tim to no end, it also meant that their next turn would need to beat it, which would be… slightly less than easy, if they were to be honest. Thus, it was important to know exactly what was going to happen, down to the smallest, most inconsequential detail, for only then could the feline truly know what they were going to go up against, and how best they could tackle what challenges lay ahead; luckily, seeing as Spikes worked from home and very rarely left the premises, this meant it was extremely likely that any anything solid they might’ve written down would be hidden away somewhere in their domicile, be it inside a hard drive or locked inside a box somewhere. Trying to find it was a different matter altogether, as Tim was nothing if not an adept of the fine arts of flashiness; stealth wasn’t exactly their strong suit, nor even a suit at all, making each and every attempt at slithering away from view without being noticed an absolute pain. Granted, this was mostly because the lynx saw them as attempts at slithering away, subconsciously playing into tired tropes and only succeeding in drawing more attention to themselves, but in the end, somehow managed to slink into their shared spaces whenever the draolf wasn’t looking… only to find absolutely nothing. No files hidden in Spikes’ computer, nothing in the lockboxes they kept with important documents, not even scraps of paper secreted away inside pillows or within the springs of mattresses; Tim even went so far as to scale the outside of their bedroom window just to make sure that nothing was hidden in the gutter, succeeding only at nearly slipping and breaking their back on the ground if they hadn’t used their tail to anchor themselves on the windowsill. And throughout all this, through the conflicts, trials and tribulations that were Tim’s and Tim’s alone, Spikes remained as placid, calm, and clearly scheming as ever, because obviously all of this had been part of his plan! Clearly, Tim thought to themselves after searching through their pillowcases for the tenth time, the draolf had always intended for them to lose their minds trying to discover where the plan was being hidden, and that itself was part of said plan! So devious was he, that the draolf had actually kept everything inside the one place that Tim could never truly breach: his own head. There were no documents, no paper trail, not even a diagram drawn in crayon or crudely arranged with a mouse on a painting software, because every detail, every tiny little moving piece of this magnificent machine, was burned into the inside of the draolf’s eyelids, allowing him to think of it in every waking moment, giving him all the tools needed to refine whatever he was thinking to do until it was so perfect, so undeniably glorious, that whenever it was put into action, Tim would happily throw themselves into the maw of their own doom. Or, at least, that’s what the lynx kept telling themselves whenever their increasingly desperate queries yielded only confused looks and the occasional “What are you even talking about?” from their partner; it couldn’t be that Spikes was being genuine, not after so many months of mutual escalation. Truly, there was just no way that the draolf had actually decided to give up without even telling his mate; he had to be planning something, Tim was sure of it… they just didn’t know what that was. There were no clues, not even the smallest shred of a wisp that might lead them somewhere where they could find more evidence for the next assumption, but that certainly wasn’t going to stop the feline; after all, the more absence of evidence there was, the more this proved the plan was ingenious to an impossible degree!

Confirmation would come only after two weeks of nothing happening, two weeks where the lynx racked their brains for any possibility of what might be coming down their way, only to have every single item on their list of ideas crossed out one by one. Even the last one, the remote possibility that the draolf might just be holding themselves back and nothing more, didn’t really pan out; Spikes was massive, sure, but he was just as massive as he always was, what with his balls reaching the floor and a sheath up top big enough for Tim to throw themselves into. In the end though, the feline had their vindication, when they were approached by the draolf after the latter was done with a several hour-long workout and announced that he’d made reservations for the two of them in a fancy restaurant downtown, just about the last one that would still take the two of them after the kind of damage they were known cause to their environs; moreover, Spikes made sure to lower his voice when he then added he had a “big surprise” planned for when the two of them were comfortably sat at their table, which, as far as Tim cared, was the best vindication they could ever hope for: there was a plan, it did involve something big, and they hadn’t just been sweating over nothing! Granted, now the cat could sweat over something else entirely, that being the fact that they still had no idea what the plan itself even was, nor what sizes they were expected to reach; like a man having completed their magnum opus, Tim suddenly felt adrift in an unfamiliar ocean, lacking direction or any willpower to fight against the waves, for now that they had confirmation… what came next? Fear, perhaps, apprehension of sorts, as their mind raced to try and come up with any possible scenario they could feasibly prepare for; it wasn’t as if they could stop it, or even so much as guide it once the horny energies began to flow, but it was always important to have somewhat of an indication of where things might be headed, even if just to be able to enjoy the experience to its fullest. But… they didn’t know. In many respects, Spikes telling them that they had a surprise planned was even worse than if they had just kept quiet about it; Tim had no idea their mind could come up with novel forms of paranoia, but that’s exactly what his subconscious was besieged with from that point forward, and seeing as how the reservations were only for a couple of days from then, that was a long time for the feline to try and acclimate to this new state of affairs. By the time the hour rolled around, and the draolf was already getting ready with the most formal-looking casual wear he had, Tim was instead locked in the bathroom, splashing water onto their face and trying to convince themselves that they were in control, they knew where things were going, and all they had to do was let instinct take over and just relax; as long as they could do this, then things would go as they were supposed to, the two of them would probably end up destroying another culinary establishment, and then any further plans would necessarily have to involve a cookout of their own making, because no one was going to host them from that point forward. Or maybe, just maybe, there was nothing to worry about, and whatever this “big surprise” was, it’d end up being far smaller than anything the lynx’s mind cooked up as a possibility; or perhaps, it was literally anything in between. Tim just didn’t know, they couldn’t know, and it was this uncertainty, linked with the belief that they were being deliberately played by their mate, who had to know how much of a toll this was taking on their mind, that left them on the brink of insanity. The feline was ready to start pulling their fur out and rip their clothes apart, with it taking a significant amount of effort to turn around, walk out of the bathroom, and put on a big smile when they came up with a nonsense excuse for why Spikes should be the one driving that night; something about drinking, it didn’t really matter. Thus began the worst night of Tim’s life, when, for the first time in what felt like forever, they were going into an inevitable growthsplosion completely blind, with no clue on when, how or why it was supposed to be triggered; they didn’t even have the willpower to ask the draolf what their plan was, not even when the two of them got out of the car and walked through the front door, not when the waiter led them to their table, and certainly not when the entrée menu was delivered and Spikes began reading his attentively. The tension was never higher when each page was turned, with Tim not even bothering to do anything other than staring directly ahead, scanning for the slightest indication that something might be out of the ordinary, be it the slightest jerk, the smallest motion that could be remotely considered abnormal, anything really; just as long as it was indicative of whatever this “big surprise” was, then the cat would take it… for about two hours. After absentmindedly declaring that they’d have what the draolf was having and then barely touching their food, it was clear as day that, once again, they’d been played; there was no “big surprise”, or at least it wasn’t supposed to take place in the restaurant, and the more they begged Spikes to tell them what was going to happen, the more his increasingly-annoyed retorts finally got through to Tim: that there was nothing there, and whatever cockamamey story they had cooked up was entirely the fault of their unbridled, unchecked paranoia. As Spikes himself said:

“I just wanted us to have a decent night out for a change. Without breaking through a building.”

That, on its own, was enough to make the lynx feel like absolute garbage. They’d spent so long convinced that they were going to be on the receiving end of some devious, ingenious and impossible-to-predict plot to trigger a destructive growth spurt, that they’d never stop to genuinely consider the possibility that their last-case scenario was right. That maybe, just once, they should calm down and let things be, accepting them as they were, without the threat of an architectural disaster hanging over their heads; in that moment, when their tense muscles went limp and the sweat pouring down their brow finally ran dry, Tim knew what the point was: to eat. For the two lovers to enjoy a nice dinner, without having to worry about whether or not they would blacklist themselves from yet another restaurant. It was enough to get them to chuckle, almost cackle uncontrollably, but the lynx caught themselves before it was too late; instead, they just playfully poked Spikes’ nuts with the tip of their paw, surreptitiously indicating that, if there was no big payoff planned, then they’d just have to make one when they got home. But what he found wasn’t an empty, malleable sack; rather, a hard, stretched-taut surface that almost hurt when they tried to push against it. And almost instantly, the gurgling that emanated from those two cumtanks was loud enough that everyone in the building heard it.

And that’s when Spikes finally smiled.