Escalation (Commission for Strowh/BustyRenaspikes)

The couch groaned when the lynx landed on it, no care for the Rena sitting right next to them. After a long day at work doing sweet FA, all the feline cared about was unwinding and blowing off some steam; to that end, Spikes provided the best possible solution, seeing as he was there, he was eager, and he was also too tired to really say no to a tittyhug.

As usual, the shirt keeping those things contained was melted down rather than removed; the shapeshifter had long since decided against the use of clothing, preferring to use some of their mass to mimic their effects and look. It was easier to “remove” once they got home, spared them a lot of money on repairing torn fabric, and honestly was just more comfortable all around; rather than having to spend a whole day being suffocated by a button-up shirt several sizes too small, they could simply will themselves into a form that was both “decent” and comfy enough to wear.

It also meant they could have fun making their tits bounce around once the “clothing” was “taken off”; it took some effort to do, but goodness did it ever make Spikes sweat every time he saw it happen, enough that the Rena’s reaction in and of itself was enough of a reward for Tim to do it every single day.

That time, however, was slightly different; with the AC broken in the office and work being especially demanding, the lynx was feeling a pressing need to snuggle something cute, fuzzy and just as eager to snuggle back. Spikes fulfilled all of these requirements, and thus his involvement became necessary; the Rena was well aware of this, and knowing what was awaiting him, took the opportunity to use the bounce generated by the lynx landing his fat ass on the couch to get on his feet… only to then immediately turn around and plop onto their partner’s bosom, sinking his head into the surprisingly firm cleavage.

“Well, you’re eager today,” the feline murred, bringing a hand to Spikes’ head to ruffle up their fluff, “I was just about to ask, but if you’re gonna just do it…”

The Rena said something, muffled by the several pounds of tit in between him and the outside world. As was usual, his hands immediately met soft breastflesh, sinking into it as far down as they could go; considering how dense the lynx’s body was, however, this wasn’t saying much. Moving those breasts around was practically impossible, but at least it gave him something to do while his lover unwinded from a long, hot day.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of changing my style,” the feline carried on, purring softly while gently patting the Rena buried in their chest, “I dunno, the waistcoat thing just isn’t doing it for me anymore. Maybe something casual, some novelty shirts? Maybe go back to jeans, I dunno… what do you think, hun?”

There was some muffled grunting coming from that immense marshmallow valley, but nothing that could be really understood. The lynx considered leaving Spikes in there, simply carrying on the one-sided conversation… but they did actually want an answer that time around, which meant lifting the poor boy up from his heavenly resting place just so he could say something.

“I was asking a question, hun~”

“Anything that makes your tits stand out more,” came the Rena’s reply, wriggling out from the feline’s grasp and sinking back into where he had just come from.

Tim, for their part, just sighed and went along with it; it was no secret that their relationship was more or less centered around how much carnal pleasure they could squeeze out of one another, with the Rena somehow ending up on top thanks to their seemingly-endless stamina. The lynx may be able to shift and change their form at will, but Spikes not only matched their enthusiasm, they surpassed it. It had never been Tim who broke the bed, or scratched the walls, or even clogged the bathtub with multiple consecutive releases; the Rena’s apparent submission to his partner’s body belied a far more dominant nature that he liked to keep under wraps, seen only when the two were safe in the privacy of their own bedroom.

Within Spikes, however, there lay a desire for something… more. Sure, he had at his disposal a being that could literally become anything he could imagine, but that was just it: that being was someone else. His own assets were nothing to scoff at; just the previous week he’d had to purchase some new compressor gear after waking up even larger than before, and one of the main reasons the two of them got together was precisely because the lynx was one of the only people that could ever hope to take him at his full size… but coming back to see those two enormous mounds, jiggling and wobbling around with each step, sloshing quietly with their seldom-seen milky content, it awakened something inside of him that he rarely ever thought about, let alone gave any serious consideration. It was an insane proposal, one that he shouldn’t ever take seriously…

… and yet…

There was no denying that Spikes felt a constant pang of jealousy towards the cat. He knew it was absurd, since the lynx’s form was one he had chosen to begin with; when the two had met, Tim preferred to keep their shape to that of a perfectly normal, if slightly curvier-round-the-bottom feline. It was only after their relationship took off and the two agreed to move in together that the Rena grew bold enough to start asking for… modifications. A bit of extra pudge here, some size there, and eventually the lithe lynx had turned into what they were today: an eight-foot-tall cat with an ass wide enough to get stuck in doors and two tits that were each heavy enough to break a table in half if they weren’t careful. It was all entirely for Spikes’ sake as well; if Tim had their way, they’d just go back the usual. But seeing as their lover had a predilection for the larger things in life, it had simply become the “accepted” form for the feline to carry around.

Thus, it made absolutely no sense for the Rena to feel what he did every time he cast eyes upon them. No sense, and yet it happened anyway; the sight of those breasts was a constant reminder of how barren and flat his own chest was, a cruel twist of fate for someone who was already so well-endowed below the waistline. Some days, he’d wonder if it wasn’t possible for some of his size to just be “transferred” over up top; he wouldn’t mind having to spend less money on compressor gear, plus it’d even his figure out as well, win-win!

Sadly, no such thing would ever happen. Hence why Spikes had to take things into his own hands.

He had been looking into artificial solutions for some time already, even before meeting the lynx; the Rena had thought that maybe having continuous access to a pair of tits that could be as large as he wanted them to be would quell his desire, and indeed it did… for a time. Soon enough, the hunger for more would come back in full force, leading Spikes to search for ever more extreme alternatives.

There were always the “natural” solutions, but those hardly did anything but create small chest bumps. Genemodding was a possibility, albeit a prohibitively expensive one; neither of them were paid oodles of cash, and neither could afford to be the sole breadwinner for the several weeks of continuous treatment required by those clinics. There was Tim’s constant assertion that Spikes could become a shapeshifter himself, but he wasn’t ready for that level of commitment.

That left… one option.

It wasn’t the best, but it certainly wasn’t the worst either; in fact, the more the Rena looked into it, the more he grew enamored with the idea. The artificiality of it, the indulgent excess, the promised noises and tactile sensation (or lack thereof), it all contributed to hit a succession of buttons inside of his head that he hadn’t even been aware existed at all before delving into the world of saline implants. To him, it was something that porn stars or “adult entertainers” did to please the crowds, putting on airs and pretending to be oh-so-stuffed and about to burst. But looking into the subject matter revealed that, while those people might be putting on a show, there might genuinely be something to their claims: the remote possibility that he could, indeed, overfill himself to the point where creaking with every step would become a fact of life.

He never thought he’d come to enjoy that idea, but the multiple ruined pairs of pants and underwear he went through during his “research” attested to the contrary. Hell, it began invading his dreamscape as well, with the lynx often poking fun at how they’d wake up and see the Rena playing with their non-existent breasts. Spikes, on his end, tried to pass these incidents off as just funny little coincidences, sometimes even making the argument that it was the lynx’s fault for spoiling him with their own ample chest so much; the reasoning was flimsier than a house of cards, but it was a polite fiction both of them just accepted and then moved on from.

That is, of course, until the Rena did something about it.

The visit to the clinic was one fraught with embarrassment and rampant awkwardness, taking all of Spikes’ energy just for him to keep his composure. He hadn’t expected to see the spectacle of bounciness or the cacophony of creaking and sloshing that met him after crossing those doors; never having visited any place like that, he certainly didn’t ever think he’d see confirmation of his wildest fantasies just lying there for him to see. After such a long time spent looking at articles and pictures, the notion that some of those people might just be carrying on with their lives like it was normal to have their chest and vision obscured by saline-stuffed udders just didn’t occur to him… but it did certainly explain why none of them bothered to give their testimony when it came to living with such massive impediments.

He had to try not to bump into anyone, something he wasn’t quite sure hadn’t been the intention when the building was designed; the waiting rooms were… spacious enough, but considering what kind of work was done there, Spikes had the distinct impression that they were deliberately kept at that size rather than being given some extra space. The end result was that not only did most of the customers waiting for service make a racket just by sitting around, but they were constantly having to excuse themselves so as to not rub up against one another; whenever anyone did, well… the noise of stretched plastic rubbing against itself had never quite felt so alluring. So much so that the Rena found himself wondering what it would be like to experience it in his everyday life, a thought that strayed far too often into his head to simply be ignored at that point.

He needed those implants, he needed them as big as they came, and he needed them yesterday.

Unfortunately, the doctor who handled his appointment was firm in his assessment that, without the proper kind of “training” and “stretching”, Spikes’ chest just wasn’t ready for the kind of implant insertion that he wanted. The aspiring bustyboy immediately began flipping over to the very end of the book he was given with example photos, at which point the actual medical expert in the room had to very sternly remind him he shouldn’t have gone through more than a couple of pages.

“Something like this is a process, you must understand,” he explained, “as much as you may want some of the more end-of-the-line products we offer, your body, simply put, is not ready.”

It was disappointing, but expectable; Spikes knew he wasn’t as flexible as the shapeshifter back at home… but it still stung nonetheless. Curbing his enthusiasm, he instead “settled” for the biggest implants the clinic could safely give him; they were still big enough to significantly stretch out any shirt he wore, especially after he was told he could overfill them to nearly one and a half-times their capacity before tearing became an issue, but it was still nothing more than a stepping stone, as far as Spikes was concerned. The next appointment was scheduled and the Rena made sure to tell Tim that he had a surprise for them on that day, having to exercise so much of his seldom-used willpower to prevent himself from spilling the secret that every day became a nearly impossible challenge.

Somehow, Spikes got to the end of those two weeks with only a couple of slip-ups, neither of which tipped Tim off as to the true nature of the surprise. He was lucky that the operation was supposedly advanced enough to be “in-and-out”, as they said; there’d be some soreness and need for lotion, but that’s what the lynx was for back home. All the Rena needed were two steady feet to carry him to and from the clinic, after which he was free to tease his partner as hard as he could.

In what amounted to a very pleasant surprise, the implant installation took even less time than expected, just under four hours; during that time, rather than being truly knocked out via anesthetics, Spikes was instead kept “occupied” by a cutting edge neural interface, designed to cut off sensation to the lower body while feeding comforting imagery into the user’s sensory processing centers. For the Rena, this obviously meant interacting with a virtual avatar of himself, one he could modify at will to see just how different sizes would look on them (an odd choice for a clinic claiming to be responsible about growth addiction). Four hours he spent looking at himself sporting increasingly larger sizes, four hours he spent trying to convince himself that just a couple more operations would be enough while his lizard brain screamed the exact opposite ever more loudly.

Four hours. That was enough to convince himself he never wanted to actually stop.

With the implants installed and the clinic being nice enough to overfill them for him right there and then, he was told two things: one, he’d need to apply a special lotion to his breasts at least twice a day in order to help his skin stretch out to accommodate larger sizes, and two, he would have to wait at least two weeks before the next shells could be installed. Depending on how much his body “took” to the first two, they would then be able to determine how large of an upgrade they could talk about.

Not that Spikes was listening to any of that, being far too busy admiring his new bust and how it, while it wasn’t all that large, well… existed. It was a dream come true, in a way, even if that dream hadn’t been all that old at all; it would take the Rena a long, long time before he was anywhere near the size of his natural assets (especially considering they were still growing), but it was a good first step. Grabbing the lotion and then running out of the clinic as fast as he could, Spikes had to deal with the sudden sensation of weight hanging from an entirely different spot on his body.

Used as he was to the pendulous orbs and girthy shaft he’d been gifted with, the Rena would never have expected those comparatively-tiny mounds he had to do anything to his balance. And maybe it wasn’t even their heft; maybe it was the fact that, even at that size, they seemed to creak gently and were so horrifically overstuffed that he felt mildly uncomfortable just having them around. Maybe it was all of those things; all he really knew was that he had to stop halfway down the stairs to the ground level in order to catch his breath, having to be very careful not to just start groping himself out of desperation.

Just half an hour. Then he’d be home.

Driving back was a chore and a half, a true nightmare considering how much room his tits took up between his chest and the steering wheel. In retrospect, he probably should’ve pushed his seat backwards to give himself some more room; then again, the idea of not experiencing his saline bags loudly rubbing against the damned thing was just impossible to consider, even if it made driving objectively more dangerous than it had any right to be.

Spikes pulled up in front of their apartment building, leaving the task of parking the car in the garage for the lynx whenever they felt like it. Hurrying up the stairs and into their home, he would find Tim patiently waiting for him, lying back on the couch completely nude, as always. Not even giving them a chance to turn their head around, and knowing full well he was heading for a whole world of pain and discomfort, the excited Rena nonetheless ran towards and then threw himself at his waiting partner, immediately regretting it when his stuffed implants cried out in pain from the impact.

Still, the lynx’s flustered reaction when he saw their lover suddenly shove a pair of tits onto their own was enough to make the whole thing worth it, and if not for the fact that those saline-stuffed orbs were so sore, then Spikes would’ve turned the impromptu hug-slash-snuggles into something far lewder. As it stood, a few kisses were just fine.

“Oh my god, Spikes, what the fuck did you do?!” was Tim’s sole reaction, carefully groping at the Rena’s bust.

“N-Not so hard,” was Spike’s moaned response, “th-they’re still r-r-r-eally sensitive…”

“I can tell…”

The lynx’s voice was as dreamy as the Rena could’ve hoped for, and the look in their eyes made everything so much better than it already was. Didn’t take much of a push for the snuggling to turn into something more, and the neighbours would soon have to contend with the sounds of loud creaking… except just not from the bed.

The next few days turned into a new routine. Soreness and mild discomfort became things to deal with, requiring the special lotion the clinic provided to become even mildly tolerable. It wouldn’t be until at least a week passed before his new tits “settled down” and the stretchiness began to take effect, after which it was smooth sailing until the second appointment. In the meantime, however, the two lovers had a lot of fun coming up with new and ingenious ways of turning what was effectively a standard medical procedure into something a lot more enjoyable; hard not to, when it boiled down to rubbing a pair of breasts that were as noisy as overfilled balloons and seemed perfect for slathering with a whole bunch of fluids, not just the ones meant to help them out.

Spikes was still not as big as their partner, but that would soon change; with the enthusiasm both of them displayed in preparing the Rena for their next shells, it wasn’t surprising that his body took a lot better to the implants than had been expected… for Spikes at least. His doctor was at a loss for words when it came to his adaptability, insisting on running multiple “just in case” and “triple checking” exams to make sure that his customer’s elasticity was as ridiculously overblown as their size goals were. There was no denying it, however; whether it be due to their status as a hyper or the simple fact that they went through three bottles of lotion when they were only “supposed” to use one, they were more than ready for their next shells. Not only that, but he had done so well that his doctor offered something of an “alternate route”, as he called it.

“While we can carry on with replaceable shells if you want it,” the old dog explained, “we do have something of an experimental procedure that you might be interested in. It’s brand new and untested, but we believe it could cater to your… unique demands.”

The new shells, as the doctor explained, were not meant to be replaced with newer ones as his body adapted to larger and larger sizes; rather, they were designed from the ground up to expand alongside the breasts they were inside, provided they were given enough time to settle and absorb some of saline to reinforce themselves. The idea, in theory, was simple: have the implants stretch out, take some of the implant material to allow for more “give”, and then go through another filling.

Rinse and repeat.

In theory, at least, this meant that rather than having to go through a one-month cycle of replacing his shells, waiting two weeks, filling them up, waiting two more weeks and then getting new implants, Spikes could instead pump himself fuller on a bi-weekly schedule, bypassing the need for any further surgical procedures entirely. It would require the installation of some weird-looking ports underneath his arms, not to mention having to go through a series of training exercises just to learn how to be able to breathe properly with the amount of pressure the new implants would place on his chest, but the idea was, to put it simply, too delicious to pass up.

To the Rena, the whole thing could be summed up in two words: no more. No more waiting for new shells, no more waiting for bigger filling… and certainly no more waiting for his dream to only arrive a couple of years down the line. Assuming it all went according to plan, the only thing required of him would be two visits to the clinic every month, plus any trip he made to the pharmacy for more of the special stretchy lotion he was meant to apply.

Spikes could not have signed off on the procedure faster.

Thus it was that, rather than coming home even bigger than he was before, the Rena arrived to a very confused lynx asking where all the extra size had gone. When told they’d have to wait for a couple of weeks before that happened, Tim almost looked saddened, something they were quick to rectify when they saw their partner’s shoulders slump.

“Hey, hey, it’ll be fine,” they cooed, bringing Spikes into a bosom-filled hug, “just gotta wait two weeks and you’ll get there! Want me to come with?”

“... I’d like that, yeah.”

Two weeks.

Two more weeks where his bust actually got smaller somewhat, thanks to the new implants absorbing some of the saline in preparation for the next stage in Spikes’ plan. Though the Rena was told there’d be no need for more lotion, he kept plastering it all over his tits nonetheless; he figured that making himself even stretchier couldn’t hurt, as that meant the implants inside of him could be filled to an even greater size than the medical team was expecting. Probably not how that worked, but he could always dream.

The day arrived and the two drove over to where Spikes’ new appointment was; rather than going to the clinic, they were directed to a secondary facility where all the “test subjects” were meant to fill up. The place was mostly deserted apart from the medical staff, and after checking in, the Rena was informed he was the first person to actually agree to such a radical procedure. Spikes wasn’t quite sure what the clerk meant by “radical”; he felt perfectly fine, practically the same as before!

… though he wouldn’t anymore when he walked into the main operating room.

The whole thing seemed designed to bring out the lewdest thoughts in those unfortunate enough to have chosen that path for themselves. There were only three things in there, apart from the small control room on the far end: a comfy-looking chair, two support struts in front of it, and a pair of gigantic glass tanks running from the ceiling to the floor, each filled with a clear, familiar solution and emblazoned with a company logo that he didn’t quite recognize, but felt as if he’d seen before.

Two hoses emerged from near the bottom of the tubes. It was obvious what they were for.

“Please, sit down,” the attending physician instructed, “your partner can wait outside if they want.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Tim replied, producing a chair themselves out of their own body, seriously grossing the doctor out and causing Spikes to chuckle, “please, go ahead!”

Trying to get the mental image of the lynx making a chair from their own ass out of their mind, the physician focused on getting the Rena to sit down properly. There’d be no need for the struts, seeing as he hadn’t grown that large yet, but the pumps needed to be carefully coupled to the injection ports, lest the whole thing start leaking onto the floor.

“Now, we’re only going to fill you up to about… here,” they said, pointing at a spot near the very top of the saline tanks that had been marked with red ink, “anything more and you’re going to need to sign a waiver, alright?”

Spikes nodded, getting comfortable and closing his eyes, waiting for the doctor to make their way to the control room and fiddle around with the system permissions. Took a few minutes of heavy anticipation, but as soon as two loud clunks were heard, followed by the sound of liquid gurgling and draining out of a container, everything was well.

The pumps themselves produced a small whirring, almost impossible to hear over the saline itself being drained out of the tanks and into Spikes’ bust. The pressure inside of him was mounting to immense levels, and if the Rena had the willpower required to actually open his eyes, he would’ve seen his breasts visibly swelling in front of him; as it stood, it fell to his fingers to hold onto his tits, safe from overflowing flesh purely because of how stretched it was. Truly, his bosom wasn’t growing or expanding, but inflating, like two giant, creaking, sloshing balloons. His mind demanded more, and soon his fingers would be unashamedly playing with his nips, both of which seemed to be getting a little something extra from all the saline being pumped into him.

The physician warned him to stop putting pressure on his bust, sheepishly asking the lynx to stop the Rena from nearly bursting the implants on the very first filling. Tim, for their part, was happy to hold down Spikes’ hands; just meant he had a front row seat to the spectacle that was his chest filling so much that his skin began to turn pink from the strain. It was obscene and they loved it, so much so that they had to exercise some caution not to let their own pants get so tight they strained against the fabric.

After it was all said and done, Spikes took a moment to regain his composure, only to turn his head around and shout at his doctor that he “wasn’t finished”. Sure, his tits might have been made to be twice their previous size, the implants inside struggling to hold onto their new bounty, but the Rena knew he could take more; the old sense of discomfort hadn’t come back yet, meaning the lotion had made him capable of holding far more than whatever measly amount was slorshing about inside of him. The doctor was visibly uneasy with the prospect of filling him even more, what with the creaking turning oddly metallic and incredibly menacing, but all that was needed was a signature, a reassurance that everything would be fine… and they were back in the control room, carefully monitoring the Rena’s vital signs when the pumps were activated again.

It was only then that Spikes felt it: pressure. Finally, only after his tits began to graze against the top of his legs, did he reach his goal for those two weeks, sighting in blissful content after the familiar pain began making itself at home again. The pinkish hue that had taken over his bust became stronger with each second the procedure was allowed to continue, the ever-present groaning and deafening creaking of his implants sounding like the hull of a large ship being twisted and torn apart by large metallic claws. He couldn’t even look around without unleashing a torrent of sounds so horrifyingly loud that the whirring eventually just stopped, the pumps having been shut down by a worried-looking doctor who ran to see if the Rena was fine.

And he was. He was more than fine, in fact; with a bust that had somehow engorged to the point where it was covering his legs almost to the knees (at least when sitting down), Spikes could honestly say he was satisfied… at least until his next top-up. No amount of warnings could dissuade him from further filling, especially not when the lynx helped him up and Spikes got to experience the sheer weight of those overstuffed tankers trying to drag him down. Each step elicited no bounce, but so much noise that the physician had to cover his ears. Tim, meanwhile, was just licking their lips in delight, eager to explore that new bust when they got home.

One thing was for certain though, they were going to need a lot more lotion and to apply it far more frequently than before. After all, how could Spikes expect to really fill up with just two slatherings a day, especially at that size? He was given a set of implants that could take him anywhere he wanted, and really, he didn’t even want to find his limits.

He just hoped they didn’t exist in the first place.