Almost Too Much (Patreon Commission for VDO)

It was a mistake to let her go wild like that. It felt like the right choice at the time, given the need for release, but now that the house had been duly outgrown and turned into a pile of rubble the size of one of his paws, Brad was having a hard time understanding why he ever thought it was a good idea to tell Clara he wanted her to go “all out”.

It started out innocent at first. After the heat wave was over he began to shrink back down to his usual size, with the other Arcanine doing her best to help him after he nearly destroyed their living room. It took a good couple of weeks before things went back to how they used to be, and even then he still moved like he was walking on eggshells for a good few days after becoming mobile again; it had been so long since he felt the ground beneath his feet that he felt like he needed to re-learn how to walk. In the meantime, Clara was as helpful as she could possibly ever be, even going so far as to not ask for them to nearly break their bed on a nightly basis; usually she went right back to exploring the limits of their stamina whenever the two physically could, but that time was… different. She was probably aware of how hard those hot days were on her partner, and Brad appreciated the concern.

However, as the days went on and nothing changed, he began to grow suspicious of just what her intentions truly were. At no point did she even mention the prospect of sex, nor hint at it or even give him a sly, knowing wink. In fact, things grew so stale that he would’ve done so himself… if not for the concern that something might be wrong. The two had such a healthy sex life prior to the heat wave that it just vanishing into nothing left him wondering if Clara was undergoing some kind of… but that was… they did use protection, so that was probably not the case… even still, it was a worrying change of pace, and he didn’t understand what brought it about until about a month after he was allowed to walk again.

During that whole time, the other Arcanine maintained their carefree, cheerful attitude. Nothing else had changed, merely the frequency of their physical contact; even cuddling seemed to be out of the question, though at least Clara always seemed to have a reasonable excuse for why she couldn’t even snuggle with him. It left Brad feeling cut out, and not only did this hurt him on a level so deep he could barely put it into words, but he began to think: was she going to leave him? Was this Clara’s version of letting him go softly, and she’d be taking extended trips out of the house in the coming days and weeks until she just never came back? He had no idea what could’ve triggered that; hell, the last time the two of them got together they quite nearly tore down a wall and she was left gasping about how amazing it was, so what had changed?

These thoughts ate him from within whenever he didn’t have anything to do to occupy his mind, which nowadays tended to happen far too often thanks to working from home. He got so close to just asking her so many times that it turned into yet another thing to worry about, wondering about where his courage had gone whenever it shied away from a simple question. He still held onto the belief that maybe things would just solve themselves if given time, a belief that was both childish and yet somehow entirely accurate. He first began to suspect that there might be some ulterior motive behind the sudden separation and lack of intimacy that wasn’t related to Clara wanting to leave him when he caught her staring at him. They were furtive glances, barely noticeable unless he caught them at the right time, and even then the other Arcanine seemed to have a supernatural ability to guess when her gaze was detected; he only ever confirmed it was happening a couple of times or so, but he knew it took place more often. After a moment of insight, he began to darken his computer screen just enough that he could see what was reflected on it, and indeed ended up confirming that Clara often stealthily leaned into his office, took a long look at him, and then went away. It’d be creepy if it weren’t for where she was looking at.

Now, Brad didn’t like… relieving himself. Not in the traditional sense, but rather the other one. While he was no stranger to having to stimulate himself every once in a while, especially during the hotter days of the year, his relationship with Clara had given him so much to work with that the mere thought of masturbation often didn’t even cross his mind. Now that he was deprived of contact, however, it began to creep back in, albeit not strongly enough that he went ahead and did it at all. To Brad, it was a waste, knowing how insatiable his partner was; since part of him still thought Clara would spring a trap on him any second now, he felt like he had to save himself for when the inevitable storm of fur and playful bites came knocking at the door. It was only after he caught her staring at his nuts that he came to understand why she had been curbing her enthusiasm for so long.

His natural elasticity, which normally only came into play when the temperatures rose too much, nonetheless made it so that his body could store up significantly more of his seed than most other males. In fact, he didn’t know if he had a cap at all, given that he could very easily fill up entire rooms if the heat pressure was kept on him for too long, so the meagre amounts that he produced normally barely made a dent in his overall size. This, however, was under normal circumstances; Clara made sure that whatever he produced over the day would be adequately drained out, ridden dry and then forced to make more of itself until she decided she had enough, thus giving him very little time and few opportunities to truly grow outwards. Those past few weeks, however, had created the perfect set of circumstances to enable a significant amount of bloating: no insatiable Clara, no relief on his end, continuous cum production going absolutely nowhere. Even his nightly emissions weren’t enough to help him vent the pressure; it’d be disingenuous to pretend like he wasn’t blue-balled to Hell and back.

The few glances she took at him convinced Brad that this was her plan. She was holding back after all; gods only knew how much all of that time must’ve been hard on her, seeing her lover grow bigger and fuller in front of her eyes, unable to do anything about it after deciding to let it run its course… it left Brad feeling oddly proud that his body could have such an effect on her that Clara would actually forgo one of her favourite pastimes just to stress test its limits; he only wished she had told him that’s what the point was, but that would probably ruin the whole point. In that one moment of realization, Brad decided that he was going to play into her little plan; he wouldn’t say anything if she didn’t, and would therefore continue to swell up with unspent seed until such a point as either of them broke… probably both, given their past history.

He was already quite large by the end of the first month, carrying a sack that hung below his knees and swung extremely heavily with each step. It gurgled and sloshed whenever he applied the slightest amount of pressure to it, sometimes without any prompting at all, and occasionally felt like someone had applied a vice to their insides from how much seed they were tightly packing within them, leaving Brad to wince and practically double over as he dealt with the sudden pain. It always ended with a wave of endorphins flooding his neuroreceptors though, like every muscle in his body clenched and then relaxed, leaving him wishing the next pressure crash would come as soon as possible. And as he went through his day doing what he had to do, he continued to grow, a process that he was quite happy to confirm was, indeed, accelerating. The longer he went without release, the more his body complained about it in the only way it knew; maybe it was aware Clara was still around and wanted to give her something she couldn’t resist, something she had to throw herself at. Whatever the case, what would’ve normally taken him weeks to make was now done in under a day, and the speed just kept increasing with each passing hour.

It got bad enough quickly enough that Brad began to wonder if he shouldn’t ask Clara to intervene. Her stares were becoming less and less subtle, to the point where her reaction time after being spotted dropped just enough that the male Arcanine could clearly see her diverting her gaze. Neither of them could hold out for longer… or so Brad thought. Truth be told, all of that had been one long ploy on Clara’s part to prepare her sweet, fluffy Arca-lover for what was to be their greatest experience yet, the true ascension into the hallowed halls of sex-crazed divinity. After her own experiences in the past, it was only fair that she find someone who could survive that kind of transformation; so while her friend was off making metaverses or whatever it was she called them, Clara spent an eternity scouring through countless timelines just to find the perfect match, the one person she could uplift to become her true equal… because frankly, it got a bit lonely sometimes, and what was the point of being an all-loving mega-goddess if she couldn’t share some of that love with others? Her whole point of being was to make people feel better, not assert her superiority.

Hence, Brad.

She knew he would break far before she did; her own appetite was insatiable, sure, but she was operating on timescales that the male Arcanine could only barely even begin to dream about, even when “reduced” to an earthly existence such as the one she was experiencing. Besides, it wouldn’t do for her to force herself on him; Brad had to ask for it, give permission, and if that meant letting him experience what it was like to be so blue-balled he had to drag said balls behind him, well that’s exactly what had to happen. She didn’t like it any more than he did, but seeing as he spotted her taking her occasional glances and didn’t say anything about it, Clara figured her partner was more than happy to play into her game.

This lasted a surprising amount of time. Despite his ability to function getting strained with every day that went by, Brad lasted until the second month’s end before finally succumbing to the need for release. By that point, each of his orbs had bloated to become as tall as he himself was, churning with his seed and throbbing loudly enough to sound like a second and third heartbeats. He could barely walk, having to physically pull that sack around whenever he did, and doors were no longer an option. He was confined to the living room again, and yet insisted that everything was just fine, please and thank you, at least until that one fateful day where he accidentally brushed against his cock.

He didn’t mean to. In fact, he had been deliberately trying not to touch it too much, lest it explode out of his control, but an unfortunate tripping incident left him unable to avoid it: after pushing himself back onto his feet, one of his hands ran the full length of his shaft. The ensuing spurt of cum was so powerful that it flew across the room, pierced through their television screen and still had enough power left in it to punch a fist-sized hole into the wall behind it, all of it in just under a second. Brad flinched in fear of what had just happened, his eyes widening at the amount of damage such a miniscule (for him) release had done. He was dripping heavily in the aftermath, a good gallon of pre spooling onto the ground with each minute, and given how hot his everything was, he felt like he had no other solution.

With his voice cracking and his eyes half-lidded, he called for Clara, knowing she was probably waiting for him behind the nearest door. Indeed, the other Arcanine strolled into view with the biggest grin on her face. Her body had grown as well, though not nearly to the extent as his did; each breast covered half of her torso and swung so freely that it caused a constant leakage of milk to drip from her engorged teats, her hips and ass wide enough that it was a wonder she could even move between rooms at all. She approached him, her soft fragrance blessing his nostrils when she got close enough to plant a smooch on his forehead and yet denied him that one nicety.

“Yes, hun~?”

Two words and it was all he needed. Brad lost himself in his pleas, barely even thinking about the words he said when he begged for her to do something about the massive bulge he was sporting. He spoke of a great many things he wanted to do, some that surprised even Clara herself to the point where her face grew even redder, but it all culminated in one final point, when the male Arcanine took a deep breath, looked his lover right in the eye, and uttered the magic words:

“Don’t hold back. I want you to go all out.”

And that was all Clara needed to hear. In that moment she was given permission, and though it slightly pained her that it had to come at the expense of Brad filling up so hard, it was a result of him playing a dangerous game and gambling on unknowns. Still, she could now stop pretending to be something she wasn’t and truly let go, truly tap into her full, divine potential in order to share some of it with her cute little fuzzy lover. Poor thing thought he could outlast her, not knowing how well-tuned her own ears were to how loud and gurgling his balls were; now he was going to receive a lesson in what real divinity was like. The city wouldn’t last the hour and goodness was that exactly what she wanted.

A single drop of her true power was enough to kickstart the process, with Brad’s body having been made malleable enough to take over from there. All of Clara’s attention and “insatiable appetite” had been perfect covers for what her true plan was: preparing the other Arcanine’s body for the transformation it needed to undergo if it was to survive its ascension into godhood. Brad might think otherwise, but he was never that productive, or tall, or bulky, or anything really until Clara stepped into the picture; he was taller than most people in his office, yes, and carried a certain aura of strength that matched perfectly with his well-defined musculature, but while he didn’t notice any changes over the months, everyone else did, and were far too embarrassed to say anything about it.

To him, it was normal to have to bend down to get through doors or have to exercise caution to prevent himself from shattering soda cans just by picking them up. It was nothing if not ordinary to have to carry around a pair of nuts that were half the size of yoga balls at their smallest. It was even perfectly natural for his clothes to have to be made a couple of sizes too large to accommodate for his sculpted physique, which even then still posed a ripping risk whenever he flexed too hard. While everyone else around him saw those things happen over the course of weeks and months, talking behind his back and some even going so far as to try and make polite conversation about it, Brad himself remained blissfully unaware of the changes he was going through. Some of it was, admittedly, Clara messing with his senses in order to avoid him worrying too much about what was happening to his body, but most of the perceptual filter was entirely the male Arcanine’s doing; even the goddess was surprised at the lengths he went in order to pretend like things were perfectly fine, going so far as to explain obvious discrepancies, like the sudden need for higher ceilings in his house, as a “second puberty” he just remembered his species went through.

At no point did anyone disabuse him of any of these notions; it was too fun hearing what he had come up with last.

Deep down, he knew things weren’t going the way they were supposed to, but with a body like that, why ever complain about it? He rode that wave like a champion, eager to see where it would take him next and never once being disappointed by it. He had only the faintest idea that Clara might have something to do with it, a pale shadow of a thought that was immediately given a lot of weight when he felt that droplet of divinity fall into him. In that instant, his cup ran over, spilling out of every side and flooding the table it was set on with an endless spout of whatever it was holding before. That one sliver of his partner’s true power was enough to dwarf everything he had ever felt in his life before put together, and in that singular moment of utter bliss, every limit he used to think he had was rendered entirely irrelevant.

He barely felt the house exploding around him. One moment he was safely inside of his living room, the next the sun was shining on his head, his fur was glistening underneath its bright glare, and everyone who lived next to them was very confusingly hanging onto his body, a few still sitting down where they were before their homes were torn apart in under half a second. The sudden shift in perspective was enough to make plenty of them start to scream before they became acutely aware of just where they, after which they smoothly transitioned into a blissful rest, sinking softly into the small forest of fur they were stuck on. As for Brad, his brain was still trying to catch up with whatever had just happened, leaving him more confused than anything; it took Clara rising to the occasion before things began to make sense.

Rather than an explosive burst that spread rubble and debris everywhere, the Arcanine goddess took her sweet time to transform into a giantess of Brad’s size. It was all part of the plan to make him even more aroused than he already was, hence why she deliberately grew out parts of herself faster than others. For every foot she gained in height, her breasts would gain that and half again, her ass about as much, and her tail thrice; she quite enjoyed being stacked and thick, but that enormous, fuzzy brush of hers was still the most important part of her body, far as she cared. Thus, Brad got to watch from very close range as Clara’s body burgeoned into something straight out of his lewdest fever dreams, coming to not only match his height, but far surpass it, a single mound being enough to block out most of the sky, her tail snaking its way around the many roads in the city. She spoke a single word, a command that bid him to do things he never thought were within his powers; but she asked for it, hence he had to do it.

“Come.”

He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t let her down, not now, not after everything she did for him. He could tell, from the tiniest fragment of herself that had been placed in him, the full extent of her reach, and it was still so vast that he almost fainted when trying to consider all of it. That someone like her would descend to bless his life, to choose him above the certainly countless other suitors, was an honour and a glory bestowed upon him; even so much as thinking about not living up to it was tantamount to heresy, and a direct affront to her kindness. There was only one way “out” of that predicament, and it was to bless the whole world in much the same way the goddess had her old home dimension.

It shouldn’t be too hard now that he was told to come closer to her. All that was needed was intent and his body did the rest for him, running on auto-pilot and more or less adding mass wherever it needed to; it freed up his mind to focus on other things, like making sure no one was hurt when he absentmindedly destroyed a large chunk of the city, or directing those whose homes he flattened to newer, better abodes aboard his body. They wouldn’t need their prisons of concrete and wood and plywood when they had his silky-smooth fur to hide in, endless tracts of it that grew larger and wider still as his head made its way to the lower atmosphere. He knew it was right, for it was what Clara herself had done… Clara and someone else.

Bits and pieces of the Arca-goddess’ memories were drip-fed into him, in just the right amount that he wouldn’t be completely overwhelmed. He saw flashes of what her journey had been like, how she had shared it with her friend of many years and just how large her true form really was. It made her current avatar, itself already tall enough that her head was far past the stratosphere, look more insignificant that the core of an atom, and even that comparison was already strained. Reality was nothing but a tiny, inconsequential speck on the tiniest strand of fur on her tail, and yet she still went ahead and spent such a long stretch with him. With him, not anyone else; and while that realization might’ve made anyone else burst with pride, it instead humbled Brad. Knowing just how nothing he was in comparison to Clara’s true form made her decision to choose him all that much more overwhelming, leaving the burgeoning Arca-god with nothing but a burning desire to live up to and exceed her expectations.

The world below them grew to become smaller with each passing second, the city (or what remained of it) melding into the ground around it until all he could see was the terrain of the planet. Its curvature was evident, as was the coldness of space fast approaching, and yet Clara was just as big as she always had been, still looming over him and packing such a tremendous weight that it was only her godly power keeping the planet from breaking into tiny pieces from the gravitational strain. He couldn’t hear her speak, merely her thoughts resonating in his head about as easily as his did in hers; it was an odd form of communication, and he could only imagine he’d need some time to get used to it, but what she wanted was clear: everyone had to come along with them.

It wasn’t a choice on her part any more than being big was a conscious decision; that everyone on every planet in every timeline had to be granted the gift of eternal bliss on her or Brad’s body was encoded into the very fabric of existence at a base level, such that not doing it would be an affront to the very concept of… well, themselves. It wasn’t that hard, considering he rapidly grew to be taller than the Earth was wide and then kept going far past the point where the Sun was anything more than a tiny dot; he didn’t have much time to react, but what little he did was enough to secure the continued existence of his home planet by storing it safely between a few tufts of fur somewhere on one of his biceps. He’d have to be extra careful when flexing, but it should be enough to keep the planet safe… especially when everything else was quickly falling apart.

Neither of them could help it. Clara was simply returning to her natural state of being, while Brad was being forcefully uplifted to a higher state that, unfortunately, required his “escape” from the confines of a single universal existence. Did this mean utterly destroying everything in his path? Almost; he made sure to keep every planetary body with sentient life intact in order to avoid any preventable deaths, even if he lost count of how many they were before the two of them were halfway done with his home reality. When they finally reached the edge, popping the bubble-like film that separated his existence from the interstitial fabric of all that was, the number of souls using him as an inter-universal mobile home numbered in the quintillions, and even then that was probably a lowball estimate.

He expected to see something that would give him some perspective on how large Clara was, but instead saw… nothing. A vast expanse of absolute nothingness stretching as far as he could see; though given that it was non-existence, that was probably an incorrect way of putting it. He wasn’t staring at a space, but at the most complete lack of any matter, energy or substance that ever existed. He was vaguely aware that it used to hold countless other realities, courtesy of his consort’s memories still leaking into his, but that Clara’s ascension had gotten rid of those; now, every universal birth happened within the confines of her immense form, not allowed to exist out here, in the vast, desolate wastes of unreality. And it was then that Brad saw it.

He wasn’t really staring at nothing, because there was something there... or someone as the case may be. Though his lover’s avatar was still in front of him, she was also undeniably all around him as well; “below” him, if such a direction could exist in that place, the background colours of that place blended together to disguise the fact that it was all Arcanine tail floof, as far as anything could be. On certain spots Brad could tell that there were bumps, textures that betrayed where the Arca-goddess’ immense pawbs lay, protected by her fur and housing countless multiverses’ worth of civilizations in constant flow. Without even realizing it, he’d been standing atop one of her breasts the whole time, the damned thing being of such unimaginable scale that his brain couldn’t yet fully comprehend the dimensions it operated in.

Yet.

He felt a surge of power welling up inside of him, threatening to cut him into ribbons from the strain. He held onto it, even as the Clara clone stopped growing (or his own growth surpassed hers) and vanished from sight, leaving him well and truly alone for the first time in… however long it had been since the two first met. He saw the strands that made up existence begin to appear, only to thin out and be gone from his sight when he outgrew even them, his body becoming so unfathomably massive that new laws had to be written just so it could be, and yet he didn’t stop accelerating. It wasn’t until he felt her that he realized it was a necessity; she had never stopped, so he had to catch up.

Despite being as immense as she was, Clara was still an entity. Her body had a torso and limbs, breasts and a butt, even internal organs. They violated every known law of physics and had to rewrite a few thousand fundamental beliefs about how things worked just to exist, but they were there. And being there meant that Brad, in his infinitely-multiplied ascension towards his cosmic-sized lover’s true size, got to watch as she came into focus. It wasn’t even a case of her looming in the distance and coming closer, but of him tuning into the sufficient dimensions required to begin to understand how large she was; his own body was phasing through them so quickly that the mathematics required to understand it would themselves take up the entirety of several universe clusters. Not that any of it mattered; he was finally seeing her, the true Clara, in all of her magnificence, and the first thing she did when his face grew larger than a single pore on her muzzle… was kiss him.

There was nothing special about it. No transfer of power or sudden growth burst or even some kind of awesome, terrifying revelation about the very nature of existence; it was just a kiss, loaded with nothing but the kind of love the Arcanine had given him all that time. Yet, that was all he could ever ask for. No gift of power would measure up to the knowledge that Clara was there, Clara was in love with him, and Clara wanted to do nothing more than to spend the rest of her days with him… which considering her status as a deity, was a good long while.

Her mouth moved to speak, but the goddess was kind enough to wait until both of their sizes matched up and Brad’s accelerating rate of expansion matched hers. Her face was even more beautiful than it had been back on their planet, and when her words were uttered, it was her voice that Brad heard, not a mental projection. Two words, just as before. Two words for eternity.

“Hey hun~”