Homecoming (Patreon Commission for Rychen)

TAGS: Hyper, Excessive Cum, Inflation, Bottomless

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The next time his boss told him that the job would be “done and over with before you knew it”, he had half a mind to tell him to shove it where the stars didn’t shine and keep going until it came out of his mouth. It had been five days since he last set foot in his home, five days when it was supposed to have been a handful of hours, and not only did he feel like the layer of grime he had on him was so thick it could serve as a second skin, but his apartment just felt… dirty. He usually made sure to tidy it up before he left for longer assignments like those, so for a surprise like that to be sprung on him out of nowhere meant that the home he was returning to had so much stuff strewn about that it made him groan just thinking of how much work he still had ahead of him. That, however, was a concern for future Rychen, the one who had a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast in him, not the tired, beaten fox that could barely drag his feet behind him, much less find the willpower to put the pots and pans back where they belonged.

He made a sandwich for himself, stuffing as much synthmeat into it as he could justify, before devouring it in half a dozen bites, then held his stomach as the bad decisions hit him stronger than ever. Despite this, the pressure he felt in his belly wasn’t the worst one bothering him at that point; that honour went to what he was experiencing below the waist and between his legs, the one spot on his body that hadn’t received a proper workout in the past five days.

Rychen’s productivity always ensured that, whenever he didn’t get any relief at least twice a day, discomfort was sure to follow. He didn’t mind it too much; all he needed was about ten minutes and a private bathroom to do his business in, even during work hours. Unfortunately however, his latest assignment had given him no time in which to have some private time with himself, meaning that the fox that walked through the door and into his bedroom was a very needy one indeed. He wasn’t even worrying about the mess he was about to make; all that mattered was getting his pants and underwear off as quickly as he could so he could finally get some proper rest, even if it meant turning his bed into a long-term clean-up project. Rychen winced when he saw the full size of his nuts after they were exposed; though his small-scale compressor did a good job at hiding those grapefruit-sized orbs, they still ached like nobody’s business, visibly throbbing with each heartbeat and just begging to be emptied, all while the foot-long rod rising above them practically pulsated with need. Didn’t take too much effort either; the moment that Rychen touched his sensitive skin was the same one that a glob of pre shot upwards and reached halfway to the ceiling, sending electrical discharges flying up his spine.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts and breathe in deeply, before doing something very stupid and bringing both of his hands to his cock. He had intended to start pumping it, but really all it took was holding onto that thing for it to immediately go off, the fox reaching climax faster than ever before in his life! It would’ve been embarrassing if not for the fact that it was what he was looking for; the last thing he needed was to go through the whole process of reaching orgasm like he usually did, not now that he could barely walk and desperately needed something positive to happen. He sighed happily, sinking into the sheets and allowing his nuts to clench and gurgle their way to emptiness, entranced by the sight of his twitching cock erupting with the kind of thick strands of seed that he hadn’t seen in months, if not years; it was almost beautiful in a way, though it quickly turned worrying once it refused to stop.

He was very productive, yes, but even still Rychen didn’t usually go for so long that he began to notice something was wrong. At best he could output for a solid minute, and even then it would eventually taper out towards the end, and yet now he found his body capable of keeping his ejaculate in full flow for… how long had it been? Too long, that was for certain, but how much? The fox scrambled to try and find a way to stop it, slightly panicking at the thought that maybe going five days without jacking off at least once had done something terrible to him; he didn’t want to call his doctor and tell him what was happening, just the thought alone left him feeling so embarrassed that his cheeks were burning! And yet, even taking his hands off of himself did nothing to stop the constant climax; if anything, it just kept getting worse the longer time went on, in full violation of every law of biology and physics he had ever learned about, and several others he had forgotten over the years.

He looked around, maybe hoping to find something he could use to stop it, before realizing he had no idea what was going on, much less how to put an end to it. All he could do was stare helplessly at a cock that seemed unable to stop outputting seed, so much so that his chest was starting to turn into an utter mess, along with the bed around him. Holding onto it did nothing but make the volume of release worse, and even rolling onto the damned thing failed to accomplish anything of note; worse still, when he went back to lying on his back, Rychen couldn’t help but notice that his balls had, against all odds, gotten bigger! Still clenching with each spurt, his nuts slowly approached the size of small watermelons, squishing heavily against the sides of his legs, and only making his seemingly-endless orgasm all the worse for it; it was like a fountain, an unending stream of thick spunk that got just about everywhere that it could, and appeared to be getting stronger and more intense as time went on. The fox felt his stamina start to drain away from him, the cumulative effects of five days of intense labor followed by something as unnatural as what was happening to him, and soon was struggling to even keep his eyes open at all, despite the endless, overwhelming pleasure waves crashing over him. He still tried… but there was nothing he could do. Nothing but allow the tiredness to take him over and send him careening into the darkness from where he wouldn’t come back until several hours later.

When he came to, things were… weird. He didn’t feel any differently than from when he normally woke up, apart from the overall sense that something was missing, not to mention the overall sensation of warmth that covered him from the chest down. Being too exhausted to really think about things rationally, Rychen took a while before remembering what had happened prior to him falling unconscious, and even more before all the dots were connected and he yelped himself back to a fully alert state, his eyes immediately darted towards the epicenter of the disaster he’d left untended for goodness knows how many hours. Some part of him had expected it to have subsided over the night; surely, even in his wildest of dreams, his body wouldn’t have been able to keep him going for that long, would it? Yet, as soon as he dared to set his eyes on the affected area, the moment he summoned the courage to inspect the damage, that’s when he saw it: he was still cumming.

Maybe his body had grown accustomed to it during the many hours of sleep, or maybe he just hadn’t woken up properly, because it barely even registered anymore. He felt great, refreshed and restored from a good night’s rest, when he should have his conscious thoughts broken in half by what amounted to an impossibly-long climax. The bed was a complete and utter mess, covered in his jizz from side to side, a coating that climbed up his sides, blanketed the fur on his chest and went off to the other end of the sheets, dripping noisily onto the floor; a few splotches up above betrayed just how strongly he’d been venting all the pressure, with several spots being sticky with his spunk, which fell back down in long, stalactite-like globs. The smell of it was… alluring. The fox didn’t want it to be; he wanted it to be rancid and horrid, so as to shock him out of his weird, biological funk and set him back on the right path, but it wasn’t. It was delectable and musky, inviting him to keep going for as long as he could, to coat himself further in his own cum until his fur permanently changed colour. His eyes were starting to close again, ready to succumb to this sudden desire, when Rychen found enough willpower left within himself to shake his head and return to reality, albeit only temporarily.

He needed a solution, something to actually make it stop; he was genuinely concerned that he hadn’t died of dehydration already, doubly so considering his cock and balls had slowly grown outwards during the night, giving him a package that would be considerably hard to carry around. Touching it was absolutely out of the question, lest he trigger some sort of extra reaction that his body had lying in wait… but what else was there? If this was a medical condition, it wasn’t one he was aware of; never in his life had he ever heard about anyone who came for about eight hours straight, much less with the sort of potency he was displaying. Even now the occasional rope of spunk splashed onto a wall or even the ceiling, leaving Rychen flabbergasted as to how his body was able to produce that much without the rest of him shrivelling up into nothing. Left without any other options, and with the weight between his legs growing by the second, the fox decided to fight fire with fire; if his body refused to listen to reason, then it would listen to insanity, even if it was the last thing he did.

So it was that the vulpine brought both hands to a shaft that was now big enough to actually need them both, pumping it with all the strength he could muster. Maybe, he thought to himself in between pangs of unbridled pleasure and mind-breaking carnal bliss, if he could trigger a second orgasm then it would override the first, forcing his body to stop! It made about as much sense as anything else that had happened that night, so why not try it? Besides, his sensitivity had been given a boost as well, so the more he stroked himself, the better and more powerful it felt; soon enough he wasn’t even doing it for the sake of his plan anymore, but purely for its own sake, to achieve ever-higher levels of pleasure and end up somewhere beyond where he already was. His productivity continued to rise, the spurts of spunk becoming thicker, longer, faster, stronger, and he knew that he had just made a mistake… but he couldn’t stop, not now.

Not ever.

Rychen carried on, mindlessly, hoping to break through some kind of wall if he just kept trying hard enough. He felt his shaft grow beneath his fingers, his balls swell between his legs, and still he carried on. The coating of cum was getting thicker and far more pungent, giving everything in the room a brand new sheen of sticky off-white, but he didn’t care; he needed to keep going, needed to force his body to stop… or, failing that, give himself the best climax of his whole damned life.

The second option was becoming a lot more likely the longer he kept going, since no matter how much he tried, no matter how much more he continued to pump out, his limit always seemed to be just out of reach, constantly pushed ahead one step at a time to keep the fox from breaking through them. Soon enough he wouldn’t even be able to stroke himself properly; there was just so much cum flowing from his tip that he couldn’t get an adequate grip, friction all but a thing of the past that he couldn’t even fathom in his current state. If it weren’t for the omnipresent knowledge that this was very, very wrong and shouldn’t be happening, Rychen would’ve likely given up already; even then, simply knowing that it was impossible (or was supposed to be, at least) was starting to look like less of a reason to stop it, especially since his body clearly didn’t want it. And after he was through with pumping himself to climax, when his stamina smashed into that wall a second time, that’s when he knew for certain he was in for the long haul.

He certainly did start to vent out more spunk than before, so much that he was turning into a biological fountain with how hard his cock was erupting with the stuff, enough that the ceiling blasts turned into the norm rather than the exception. All Rychen could feasibly do was lay there and watch, dumbfounded at his own productivity, his mind racing at a million miles an hour to try and come up with any excuse for why this was a thing that was happening. He thought to call his boss, let him know what he had inadvertently done to him, but what good would it do? His fingers slippery, the screen tainted and smudged beyond repair, the fox instead dialed his company physician, hoping not to have caught him at too bad of a time. Sadly, being coated in cum wasn’t too good for electronics, so when the call did go through, all Rychen could hear was a garbled, incomprehensible mess that just barely sounded like words. In fact, even he couldn’t talk properly; in between cumming what felt like gallons every half a minute or so and the kind of endorphin-based madness that had taken him over, the only sounds he could make were moaning and shouting the word “Cum!” over and over again at the top of his lungs. Times like those he regretted his decision to live on his own, in a house separate from the nearby apartment blocks, for who would be there to help him now? He was stuck in his room with nowhere to go and a body that refused to obey basic instructions while pinning him down with a combination of cock weight, ball girth and raw bliss.

And he wanted more of it.

Rychen didn’t really know when his mind turned from repudiating such an occurrence to inviting it to keep going for as long as it could, but it was hard to deny that he was no longer finding the experience to be nearly as discomforting as he had been the previous night; in fact, quite the opposite was happening, with the fox looking on longingly at the copious amounts of cum being poured out from his throbbing shaft, far more than should be possible, and wondering what it would be like to just… surrender, to accept the inevitability of it and invite it to keep going for as long as it needed to, all while its intensity continued to grow. It was undeniable that his misguided attempts at using firefighting tactics had only resulting in a raging inferno of much greater proportions, far more than simply adding one and one and getting the usual result; far more likely was the possibility that trying to trigger a stopgap orgasm had only multiplied the strength of both of them and then slammed the two together into the impossibly productive release he was experiencing at that time. And he liked it; more than that, he loved it! So much so that he decided to just carry on with his day like it was nothing, even as the coating of cum on everything got thicker by the second.

Getting up was slightly complicated, owing both to the decrease in friction all around and to the addition of extra weight between his legs; it made sense for his nuts to be a lot denser than before, but Rychen couldn’t have expected them to be that hefty, enough that he almost had to kneel when he first felt the pull of gravity on his body. The reason why was evident: those things hung lower than his knees, and took up so much room that every step he took was a janky one, having to consider the position of his cum factories just to stop himself from squeezing them too much. This led to a rather awkward, almost-sideways gait that didn’t make it any easier to keep his footing, especially since his rod made sure to paste everything in his path in the same kind of spunk covering that coated most of his room. Despite this, Rychen found it within himself to keep smiling, knowing that, at the very least, things couldn’t get any worse; all he had to do was not touch himself and it would all just… go away. Yes. It would stop on itself, eventually. He just had to keep believing in that and it would eventually become reality. Yup. Absolutely.

It was altogether normal that he couldn’t stop; that was just the perfectly logical end result of him going five days without getting some relief when he had a body as needy as his, not some freak accident of nature that he had no clue how to explain and even less of an idea how to resolve. It certainly wasn’t worrying that he clogged his toilet when he tried to use it, resulting in much of the fluids he dumped into it coming back up after he attempted to flush it, leading to some minor flooding that he’d have to fix whenever he had the chance. It was normal that he kept growing still, that his nuts seemed to gain half an inch whenever they clenched particularly hard, that his cock continued to pack on mass and weight, that each step was starting to feel impossible to take. It was normal and not at all something he should be worried about, even when it got in the way of him making breakfast; it was all-but impossible to even make the simplest of sandwiches when his motor coordination was as shot as it was, the fox’s body wracked by periodic shockwaves that crossed his form every other second, to say nothing of the mess made by the cum hose he called a dick constantly bouncing his juices off of every hard surface.

Rychen attempted to enforce some normalcy into his routine, and admirably lasted well into his third attempt at putting ham between two slices of bread before he finally gave up, some time after a gallon or two of his seed smeared itself over the piece of meat he was trying to eat. With a groan that turned into something like a roar, the fox threw the ruined meal onto the coated ground, screaming at the top of his lungs while trying his best not to rip his own hair out. He wanted it to feel terrible, wanted it to be such an awful experience that he could at least justify terminating it, but no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he should put an end to it, the part of him that insisted on carrying on was getting bigger with each passing moment, and there wasn’t a lot that he could do to stop it. More and more his hormones grew out of control, until he inevitably ended up being controlled by them to some extent; serotonin and endorphins flooded every neuron connection he had, until all the vulpine could think about was accentuating what he already felt, until it was all he could experience, period. And that was dangerous; he had a job to do, a life to lead, how could he expect to do any of it when he was too busy cumming his brains out at every living moment?

And why didn’t he care about that more?

No sooner had he had that epiphany than he realized his hands weren’t were they were supposed to be, firmly by his sides and ignoring the danger zone between his legs; rather, the pair of extremities had decided to meet up with a third one, that enormous pillar of meat that was so glazed by its own juices that it was, by that point, practically invisible underneath the thick layer of white paint it had given itself. There, his hands found a new home, a place where they could rest, holding on for dear life onto something so much larger than it had been just hours prior that Rychen had trouble accepting it was truly his. That cock belonged to someone far larger than himself, someone with a body that justified having a rod that was approaching a good three feet in length and twitched so hard he could feel his tendons being pulled… and yet it was there, his to play with, his to do what he wanted… and he wanted more.

He wanted it to be so hyperactive that it literally could not rest, so productive that the mere act of doing what it was supposed to be doing stretched its own limits in an endless, vicious cycle that would only lead to more insanity down the line. The fox no longer cared about the fact that his walls were being covered in his spunk, no longer cared about how what was happening to his body was absurd and impossible; only that he keep cumming as fast and hard as he was, gallons of his seed every minute, more and more until what counted as a full load in one moment was barely even pre the one after. That sounded like a good enough goal for him to set his mind to, something he could work towards… for after all, the only thing he had to do for it to come to pass was to have fun with himself, and he wasn’t going to go to work and waste time in his current state. So why not find himself a nice spot in his living room, sit his tush down on his couch, and enjoy the ride for as long as it took him to find how long it lasted?

Rychen left a substantial trail of his spunk on the way from the kitchen, no longer worried about the gnawing hunger in his stomach now that he figured he could just feed himself if it came down to it; if his body insisted on breaking the laws of physics to continue to produce far past the point where it should’ve stopped, why shouldn’t he take advantage of it? It made about as much sense as anything else that had happened in the past twelve or so hours, and as soon as he sat down and no longer had to worry about carrying that colossal weight below the waist, it felt even better to finally get something in him. With extra care, Rychen angled his shaft towards himself, being careful not to allow the constantly pumping loads blind him, and shoved the tip of his rod directly into his mouth; the first thought was that it tasted a lot better than he thought it would, followed by the second thought on how thick it happened to be. Swallowing a single mouthful took so long that he already had four or five queued up behind it, all-but forcing him to release his shaft back into the open while he dealt with the backlog. Sputtering and gagging on his fluids, the fox barely noticed how consuming his seed had a drastic effect on his body… or parts of it at least, with his nuts swelling outwards at an ever faster rate, and his dick growing an extra foot or so whenever he gulped down as much as he could. By the time his mouth was empty and his throat was struggling to deal with the sudden infusion, he could feel the ground on the bottom of his orbs, and that dick he sported was officially torso-length… if not even more. This was to say nothing of how much him drinking (or, at that point, eating) his own cum had spiked his flow to greater heights, resulting in an almost literal geyser that constantly splattered loudly against the ceiling! The drooping ropes of his exponentially-increasing seed gooped onto the floor from above, coating him completely in their surprising weight, until the whole room smelled of him, of his musk, and the atmosphere rose to near-boiling levels.

But he didn’t care, because he was loving every second of it. Rychen’s field of view was dominated by white, as far as he could see, to the point where he had to genuinely sit back and appreciate just how insane it was that he had managed to cover most of his living room in just under five minutes, all of it without even trying! No matter in which direction he looked at, the only thing his eyes could make out were varying degrees of white, from eggshell to snowy, all of it creamy, all of it in different states of fluidity. Grand stalactites of the stuff poured down from above, while the currents underneath him churned the substance from side to side, all of it contributing to the seemingly-endless growth that he was experiencing.

If he had woken up larger than before, it was now clear that Rychen’s body was fully intent on making his package be as unreasonably massive as it could. Each of his nuts had already swollen to the size where they could be used as extra-large beanbag chairs (assuming the pressure of doing so wouldn’t cause a flood all on its own), while his cock had lengthened until it was about as wide as his own torso, and longer than he was tall. And yet, they continued to grow, their skin stretched taut, veins particularly visible on his cock while the cum factories below adopted a far smoother aesthetic, immediately telling everyone who saw them just how stuffed they were. Trying to touch them was a mistake, even lightly with one of his paws; the resulting explosion of spunk was enough to nearly blast a hole through his wall and into the kitchen, and it still managed to scuff some of the damned thing anyway! This posed a serious problem once Rychen bloated up enough that he just couldn’t sit there without having his legs put some degree of pressure on his cumtanks… and without a mind left to think of a solution, all the fox could think to do was let fate decide; not a minute later and he had a perfect view of his fridge, right before it was cumblasted into a pile of misshapen metal.

From that point forward, there wasn’t much left of Rychen, at least not the original one, the mechanic that actually cared about things other than finding greater heights of pleasure to ascend to. That one had been left behind, somewhere in the middle of the night, or perhaps even before, when he didn’t take the opportunity to call for a doctor before collapsing from exhaustion. Now all that was left was a new Rychen, a new fox, one whose junk was growing so much that he couldn’t even see the top of the curvature of his cum factories, and had the tip of his cock already intruding upon his attic, soon to be piercing the roof without much trouble. Now he was Rychen, the fox that came so hard that even this overexaggerated caricature of a male package looked positively insignificant compared to the kind of release it was responsible for; he was an industrial-scale spillage disaster now, with the eruptions of cum being powerful enough to arch over his entire neighborhood and slam into the apartment blocks about a mile away, at points even going so far as to pierce through them and shower the streets below on the other side. The fox himself was completely coated, layered underneath a several-inch-thick covering of his own seed, drinking and breathing it in like it was the true mannah of the gods, knowing that even now that he was pumping himself out far away, there was still enough left in his house to last him for days, if not weeks.

So he settled in for the long haul, knowing that if there ever was an end to what he was going through, it wouldn’t be coming any time soon; best that he find some way to make himself comfortable and ride it out, lest he end up complaining about how much his back was killing him by the time they found him, buried under a literal ton of his seed, fattened and ripened by its nutritious fullness. He could see himself already, bloated on his spunk, and a smile spread through his lips as he parted them to welcome the next mouthful, only worsening the amount of cum flooding the city and causing a panic off in the distance. After all, why should he care anymore? It was no longer his problem, but the fault of nature for making him so productive in the first place. So why not surrender to it? Why not accept it?

Why not just enjoy himself, for once?