Birthday Gift for Tristan!

TAGS: Cumflation (and lots of it), Hyper, Bustyboy

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Their appetite had been insatiable lately.

Tristan couldn’t really complain about it, not without being immensely hypocritical in the process; the bun enjoyed every second of it, and quite thoroughly at that, but it got to the point where even he had trouble keeping up, especially once all the “generous donations” began to pile up and he felt the effects begin to take hold over his body. It made for an interesting experience, waking up every day just slightly larger than he had been the night before, and always in somewhere very specific as well; it had taken him some time to realize what was going on, and even then he still insisted that it must be his imagination, but once his bras began to feel exceptionally tight and every piece of underwear he tried to put on inevitably ripped open whenever he tried to pull them up too much, that’s when he had to sit down and admit to himself that one of two things were happening: either his body was going through second puberty, or all the times the lynx gave him a good filling were finally starting to affect him.

He didn’t want to consider the second option, mostly because it meant he’d have to do something to make it stop happening, and that just wasn’t something he wanted to do. Finding someone who could not only keep up with his own heightened libido but actually surpass it if he needed them to, combined with them being a bottomless well that seemed to generate spunk from absolutely nowhere in whatever quantities were necessary was… quite something. He remembered the first time the two of them got together like that, way back during the first semester; they were hashing out the cleaning and trash dumping schedule when, somehow, one thing led to another and after a few choice comments on one another’s curves, the two ended up rolling around on the ground until finally every other dorm got to hear the bun screaming for more at the top of his voice… before being muffled by what sounded like an inordinate amount of fluids. Trist still blushed at the memory of him coughing up globs of the stuff, past the point where his belly was so bloated he could barely walk straight or go through doors; it should’ve been the biggest red flag that he should stop, but instead he simply kept demanding more whenever the two had time to get together.

And more he received, perhaps even more than he bargained for. As much as Trist liked to think of himself as having a healthy sexual drive, that cat he was bunked up with somehow managed to make it look positively dead and shrivelled by comparison; not a single day went by that the bun didn’t have to deal with the furball trying to turn him on just so they could exploit his lack of impulse control, and not a single day went by that they didn’t do something that inevitably ended in so much of a mess that they had to spend nearly an hour cleaning it afterwards. All of this had a compound effect on the bun’s body that Trist spent a long time ignoring, choosing to believe that it was just his imagination until he could no longer rationalize it away. How exactly it was taking place, he still didn’t know, but there was absolutely something wrong with his body. Or something right, depending on how he looked at it; simply standing in front of a mirror was often enough to get him all hot and bothered these days.

It’s not as if Trist could have ever called himself lithe to begin with. Even at the start of the first semester, he was still quite proud of his body’s curves, born not only from lucky genetics but a lot of hard work and dedication on his part: a daily workout regimen and extra care taken with his food and diet had ensured that the bun that everyone saw arrive on campus was, by all means, an absolute stunner. Perhaps this is why the lynx had taken such a shine to him, with the curvaceous set of hips, pillowy, eminently squeezable ass and supple pair of breasts that practically screamed for someone to come squish them. Trist himself never expected to be swept off his feet so quickly, but on seeing the feline rock the same sort of look as himself, something awakened inside of him that, well… led to him staring at himself in the mirror early that morning, cupping one of his yoga-ball-sized tits and failing to lift them properly. They’d become so heavy he had to wear a back brace at times, and yet whenever he truly felt their weight, he couldn’t help but bite his lip and wish there was more of it, what with them being so plushy he could sink his fingers into it and feel their soft flesh overflow from between them. The very same could be said about his rear, which had risen like dough over the course of the few months he’d been with the cat, even more so than his bust; if anyone grabbing one of his tits could see their fingers vanish, doing the same to one of his asscheeks would have their whole hand disappear, consumed by bunny butt all the way up to their wrists. He literally could not say he didn’t love every inch of it; that would be a damnable lie.

He just wished he had more time to recover in between fillings.

Getting ready for the day ahead of him, Tristan had to make sure that his belly was as flat as it could be; there were still some remnants of last night’s liaison left inside of him, sloshing quietly whenever he moved around too much, and that just wouldn’t do. He brought both hands to his swollen, cum-bloated stomach and interlocked his fingers, before gently pressing downwards against the bump. He’d learned that his body took to the substance quite well, and that gesture alone was often enough to get all of the excedent to settle elsewhere. Of course, this did mean he’d thicken out somewhat, but it was either do it now or do it later and suffer through the indignity of going through a whole day with a cumgut big enough for everyone to see. He took deep breaths, continuing to press against himself, feeling the tightness dissipate and spread all throughout him; he’d developed a sixth sense of sorts for where all the pudge would end up, which is why he was delighted that most of it went straight to his ass that day. He’d been wanting an excuse to show off a bit more of a muffin top.

It was only after he turned around and tried to leave that Tristan realized he had just made a terrible mistake. Getting into the bathroom had already been a chore, what with having to squeeze his ass through basically sideways and even then having trouble with practically getting stuck on the doorframe; now, however, he had gained just enough mass to well and truly be stuck on one side of the door itself… or would, if he hadn’t been so happy with the change that he momentarily forgot how big he was and tried to get out the traditional way, bumping into the wooden frame and jerking to a halt. His eyes shot wide open as he tried to dislodge himself, to no avail; no matter how hard he tried to wrench his body away from the grip of the tight opening, he just couldn’t do it, not without it starting to hurt from all the chafing. He pushed, pulled, twisted and turned, hoping to find that miracle spot that would let him get out, even if it meant plopping onto his front; he did have his breasts there to cushion the fall, so surely it couldn’t be too bad. But no, he was… stuck. Unable to move, unable to get away, he was stuck in the door.

How embarrassing.

Tristan flirted with the notion of just forcing the issue, then claiming the injuries came from him being a thicc dummy who forgot how big he was and took a tumble down the dorm’s flight of stairs, but he quickly put that thought aside; there was no point in having to waste bandages and gauze when there were still other alternatives… even if he didn’t like them too much. The one thing he should never do is wake up the lynx; a poor, defenseless bun, stuck on a doorframe with his ass on one side and his body on the other? He was practically begging to get railed, and as much as Tristan openly salivated at the thought of it, he was already in trouble for having absorbed a load; he did not need another, larger one coming from a feline wracked by morning wood. Not that day, at least.

So he ran through several possible plans to regain his freedom, each one more ridiculous than the last, slowly exhausting his options, desperately trying to avoid the worst one, until he began to realize that, in the end, there would only be one left, the same one he had insisted he’d refused to pick: calling them. He sighed, knowing exactly where things were going, but not having any other choices, the bun cleared his throat, sighed again, and then did it:

“Tim!” he called out, “Tim, I need help! I’m… goddamnit, I’m stuck!”

Magical words. Immediately after he uttered them, Trist heard the bed’s springs groaning as the feline excitedly jumped off of them, their heavy footfalls thundering in his ears. The cat walked into view a few seconds later, having to wrestle with their bedroom’s doorframe themselves; it hadn’t only been Trist who underwent some radical changes, and given how much larger the bun had become over the months, it was only “fair”, at least in that lewd cat’s mind, that they follow suit and provide a similar amount of cushioning for their lover to sink his hands into. Really, their bodies were quite similar in build and plush, except one happened to be a feline and had a package that was… significantly larger, to say the least. One that was already on full display, turgid as it usually was every morning, and eagerly dripping with slick pre, waiting for an opportunity to fill something up as soon as it could. And once its owner laid eyes on the bun, stuck as he was somewhere he couldn’t escape from, it seemed to jump up in size a few extra inches from the excitement alone.

“Mmmf, why couldn’t you have been stuck the other way ‘round?” Tim mused, more to themselves than to Tristan, “I can’t go around you like this, Trist.”

“I don’t want you to go around me, I want you to help me get out of here!” the bun replied, trying to wriggle out of the trap he’d walked into, “I’m serious, I’m really stuck!”

“I can tell! Did you forget to approach sideways?” - the bun nodded, his cheeks growing flush and red as the lynx got closer - “I mean really, I would’ve expected you to have learned by now, someone like you can’t just use doors the normal way~”

“Tim, come on…”

“I’m serious, Tristan!” the lynx insisted, getting close enough that their own ample breasts were smushing the bun’s face, giving the cat enough room to reach forward and sink their hands into the plus ass teasing them on the other side of the door, “A perfectly pliable little cum dumpster like you, how could you have possibly thought you’d be able to go through a door like a regular person?”

It was clear from the muffled complaints that Trist was trying to pretend like he wasn’t loving every word out of his roommate’s mouth. It was part of the games they played, where Tim reminded the bun of how his role was to be stuffed full of spunk and grown out to have a wide load of an ass, and Trist made believe that he didn’t want the lynx to do that to him. It rarely worked in his favour.

“Do you expect me to believe you didn’t do this on purpose?” the lynx crooned, “That you didn’t go out of your way to make sure I wouldn’t be able to resist pumping you full, fuller, even bigger than you are now? That’s all you’re good for after all, isn’t it? Getting a bit, fat cock shoved up your ass and having your insides painted white until your belly is bloating out so hard you can barely waddle~”

Magical words. The bun’s attempts at resistance were growing weaker.

“That’s my Trist,” the lynx concluded, smooching their partner on the top of their head before letting him go, giving him some much needed room to breathe, “but I still don’t know what you expect me to do.

“I don’t know either,” Tristan grumbled, trying desperately to pretend like his face wasn’t bright red, “I dunno, can’t you just… butter me up or something?”

A terrifyingly poor choice of words and the bun knew it the moment they escaped his lips. To their credit, the lynx chose not to say anything, instead just crossing their arms and giving their partner the widest grin they could muster without breaking out into laughter, resulting in a very sheepish-looking Tristan doing his level best to avoid staring his roomie in the eye. But there came no more comments; and seeing as how Trist wasn’t about to say anything else, it fell on the cat to break the silence.

“I don’t think I’ll use butter, but if you want me t-”

“I get it!” the bun shouted, progressing straight into a whine, “I get it, I know what I said! Just… I don’t care anymore, get me out, I have stuff to do today!”

His fate was sealed and he knew it; he just didn’t care anymore. At that point, with him having summoned the insatiable cat to his side, Tristan was well aware that he was only ever getting out of there even larger than he’d come in, and while he wasn’t necessarily fine with that, it was hard to deny that the longer he looked at the shaft, the harder he found both himself and the urge to resist it. In fact, all Tim had to do was bring a single finger to it in order to lower the rod down to the bun’s eye level, giving their roommate something to aim for; no more words were required for Trist to open his mouth wide and bring his tongue out, with the lynx thrusting forwards almost immediately after he did so, hilting themselves inside the bun and creating such a colossal bulge in his throat that Tristan felt his gag reflex flare up, get overridden and then shut down completely. On the other side of the doorframe, his own cock reflexively hardened to its largest size yet, complete with a gush of pre that quickly turned into cum proper; it was less of an orgasm and more his body not knowing how to react to an insertion of that size, especially since he knew what was going to happen at the end of it.

But it was so easy to simply give in and forget about things, especially now that he had a shaft of that size being pumped in and out of him, its tip forcing its way through until it nearly broke into his stomach in order to deliver the strong-tasting bounty of those watermelon-sized cum factories the lynx carried around on a daily basis. Already enormous, even their volume wasn’t enough to betray their full productivity, with the pair of nuts often being able to pour out several times their weight in a single session; this was what Trist had gotten accustomed to, and this is what he was fully expecting to happen yet again.

The lynx’s hands held onto their lover’s head for leverage, their hips moving at a furiously quick pace while their claws sunk into the wooden flooring, just enough that they could put all of their strength and considerable stamina behind the impromptu facefucking. How exactly that was meant to free the bun from his doorframe prison was anyone’s guess, but as soon as Trist tasted the first drop in the back of his throat, there was no doubt in his mind that this was the way to go. Both his hands migrated from his own rod, which was by then in full flow, spurts of his own seed splashing onto the ground every time Tim bottomed out, to his belly, which was bulging out at a rather alarming speed; the feline was always one to be extra productive in the mornings, especially when given a reason to go overboard like that, and that occasion wasn’t any different. The cat wasn’t anywhere close to a climax and yet Tristan could feel his stomach being more swollen than it had been after waking up, his two hands no longer enough to cover its circumference as it filled up beyond its maximum capacity and kept on stretching regardless.

All around him, the same thing keeping him imprisoned began to groan at about the same time as his belly pressed against it, the wooden frame struggling to keep up with the sudden increase in volume within it. Perhaps this would be the solution Trist was looking for: being stuffed so hard that he literally broke the door rather than squeeze through it. In the throes of passion as he was, it seemed like as good of a solution as any other; nevermind the fact that he was going to end up significantly larger and heavier by the time the two were done, or how they’d have to repair the damned thing before anyone noticed it. No, right there and then, all Trist could think about was getting stuffed, becoming fuller, tasting that sweet nectar and gorging on it… and Tim was more than happy to provide.

As usual, their morning “meet-up” continued to rise in intensity until the floor beneath them turned into a complete mess; not only was Trist himself spurting thick ropes of cum everywhere, but his body just couldn’t take everything the cat was giving him, leading to his mouth being a veritable waterfall, dripping with what looked to be gallons of the stuff onto the carpet below. All the while, his stomach continued to inflate, taking what used to be a simple cumgut and turning it into something more akin to a cum dumpster; and as soon as the lynx finally reached their edge, all bets were off. The ensuing filling was so powerful that, even though most of it backblasted out of Tristan’s mouth, his swollen belly still slammed into the ground, practically lifting him off his feet and cracking the doorframe into splinters!

After the two were done finding where they left their breath again, Tim held onto Trist’s hands and began pulling him out of the wreckage; with the frame gone, it was just a matter of heaving the immense, cum-swollen rabbit away from it, even if the bun himself was now more sloshing stomach than anything else. It was bigger than it had ever been, big enough to graze the ground even when he tried to stand up, burping up bits of oddly-thick spunk every few seconds. Tim allowed their roomie to take in the sight for a few moments before moving to the bedroom.

“Where a-are you going?” Trist asked after him.

“Getting the buttplug. I’m not done filling you up~”