Rise and Shine (Part 4)

A few weeks had passed since the “unfortunate incident”, as Bea was wont to call it, where JT was immobilized by a pair of nuts the size of a small town and had to “rescued” by the timely intervention of someone who neither him nor his would-be tormentor quite trusted, if only because they seemed way too happy and cheerful about the whole thing. Their suspicions ended up somewhere between confirmed and further confused, as while the side effects of JT’s newest employment offer were far greater than he was expecting, the lynx responsible for it did just do exactly what they said they would.

JT still didn’t know whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

Picking up a new pair of pants after having ripped through the last one the day before, he lazily strolled over to where he kept the compressor remote stored, safely locked behind at least three keys and a passcode inside of an armored drawer. It was more of an ineffectual ritual than anything else at that point; JT knew that hitting the first button wouldn’t do much beyond make the specially-designed underwear groan slightly as it tried to further bring him down from his current state, only to fail at what was effectively an impossible task.

He sighed, looking at the note he’d written a few days prior, recalling how today was the day he’d be fitted for the last stage of his “progression”, courtesy of the gel’s effects on his body. Putting on the first shirt he could find and spending the customary five minutes to put on the zip-up pants he’d spent a small fortune on, JT squeezed through the door and waddled out of his apartment, completely forgetting that he left the remote on top of the desk and his bedroom door wide open; he was just that tired.

The sight of the young man making his way down the stairs and onto the street was a familiar one to his neighbors and passers-by alike; his face was plastered all over the hot new thing every wannabe hyper was buying, after all, courtesy of a certain feline with a flair for theatrics and more gluttony for size than sense. JT even received a few words of thanks on occasion, coming from people who, at first glance, seemed to massively outsize him in every respect.

But he knew better.

The first two or three days after being drained were the hardest, as it was made patently clear that whatever the growth gel did to him, it wasn’t going to subside. All of the spunk siphoned out of his nuts was very quickly driven off via a small fleet of tanker trucks emblazoned with the same logo the original container had, except these ones were brand new and shiny, suggesting the company was still going strong despite such a massive failure of an investment. This would be further compounded by a significant chunk of change dropping into JT’s bank account the day after, along with a handwritten note delivered to his doorstep bearing the lynx’s signature and asking them to come visit their offices at the provided address.

Probably to deal with the fact he hadn’t stopped growing yet.

It was subtle at first, if entirely noticeable; having been stuffed that large for a whole day sort of skewed JT’s perspective, so it took him a bit to realize he was getting heavier between the legs as the hours rolled by, and it was only when his knees became very warm all of a sudden that he actually started to worry about it. He’d felt that kind of growth before, back during those few crazy moments where he plugged himself up for days and weeks at a time just to see how big he could get; to see such growth in the matter of hours, however, was worrying, to say the least. The sounds, as well, were becoming distracting; he knew he shouldn’t be that noisy so quickly, and yet his pendulous orbs insisted on mimicking an ocean wave every time he swung them around. To say nothing of the weight, which quickly made it difficult to even move around.

A short visit to the company’s headquarters later, and after the shock of finding out just who was in charge of the entire operation was brushed away by a complimentary packet of chocolates, JT was informed that he’d need to be measured up for the company’s patented “layered compressor”, a form of modular gear that could be expanded on as much as required. The simple fact that he needed one of those was enough to set off alarm bells in JT’s head, but the lynx was quite adamant that it was better that he worry about it after getting fitted, or else “unexpected explosive growth” might make size reduction a bit difficult. This is when he received the remote for the first time; back then it only had two buttons, one of which was the actual compressor layer, and the other a purely cosmetic one that allowed him to shrink down to “normal” sizes if he ever so desired. It was concerning that the remote itself was at least as long as JT’s forearm and had enough holes with exposed circuitry in it to fit a lot more buttons, but the lynx refused to disclose what the growth gel would do, insisting instead of a “wait-and-see” approach.

Thus began the routine of enduring a few days of burgeoning size, followed by phoning the company up and letting them know he needed an extension on his modular compressor, and the several hours it would take for him to get ready, drag his immense self over, and then return home feeling like nothing had really changed. That day wasn’t all that different, or it wouldn’t be if not for the intervention of a certain canine, whose mischievous little fingers always seemed to find their way to places they really shouldn’t.

Bea had been a surprisingly passive observer throughout the whole process, only really chiming in to make the occasional comment on how JT no longer needed saline in order to pump himself up; it was hard to tell if it was jealousy or genuine amusement that came out with those words, but whatever the case it may be, the dog was nothing if not helpful, helping her roomie out whenever needed and even offering to drive him over before he grew too big for normal cars. All of this, of course, had been nothing but a convenient way for her to achieve her true goal of finding the location of JT’s compressor remote; and after so long playing the part of the helpful roommate, she finally knew where it was.

Getting to it, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether, hence why she’d been keeping JT up past his normal bedtime in an effort to tire him out enough that he’d forget to put the remote back into the drawer when he was finished with it. And today, at long last, she had succeeded.

It was almost too good to be true, hence why the canine had to pinch her substantially-sized ass just to ensure she wasn’t dreaming. But no, that was definitely happening; the remote was there and unguarded, ready to be tinkered with and for JT to experience his body like it very well deserved. Unfortunately for the both of them, Bea was not aware of the true extent of her roomie’s growth spurt; JT had kept it as close to heart as he could, precisely to avoid what was about to happen, and both of their plans colliding was about to have some serious repercussions for everyone.

Literally. Everyone.

Bea took a look at the remote, immediately noticing that there were a lot more buttons on there than she remembered. Labelled “1” to “9” and helpfully tagged with a number of small symbols (the last of which appeared to be an artistic representation of an atom, apparently?), it was blatantly obvious what they were meant to control, and the only thing Bea regretted was not having followed JT around just so she could watch what the first couple of layers did to him. Still, it’d be criminal to just head straight to the last one, so she hit the first button and waited a few seconds, to let her friend experience the change.

This, of course, did nothing beyond make the compressor groan a bit, leading JT to wonder if he should be slowing down due to all the weight he was carrying. It had been a while since the underwear had made any noises without him using the remote, so it was probably best not to strain things.

Back in the apartment, the note by the remote spiked Bea’s curiosity, as it had been written not in JT’s handwriting, but in the lynx’s; she’d seen it before, and wondered what could have possibly been so secretive that it had to be put down in a scrap of paper.

10th. Come to office. Limits exceeded projections, new fitting required.

There were many words one could use to describe just what was going through Bea’s head when she saw those words, and it was truly an achievement that every single one would make even the dog blush; no surprise then that her cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree when she looked back at the remote and began wondering just how many tries it would take for her to be able to see JT from the apartment’s road-facing window.

Only one way to find out!

All of a sudden, JT remembered that he had forgotten something of extreme importance, because he was almost completely certain that his topmost compressor layer wasn’t supposed to be struggling that much to keep him contained. It was only after the ominous *click* was heard from below that he fully understood Bea’s plan. How stupid of him to assume the canid had genuinely been trying to help him out. It was maddening, and yet he couldn’t stop smiling; if there was one thing the previous weeks had taught him, it was how to simply enjoy himself and his new size, and as much as he was going to have words with Bea when getting back home, for now he was no longer in control, and as such could do little but ride the wave and see where it took him.

The rumbling between his legs was already distracting enough that he couldn’t afford to walk, being relegated to plopping his fat rump on the street and spreading his legs as far out as he could, even if he knew it was a completely meaningless gesture; all it took was about five seconds of clothes-ripping, ground-quaking expansion for them to be forced underneath the growing mass of his nuts billowing from his nethers, pinned down as much as JT himself was as his sack began to overtake the sidewalk and spill onto the road. Whatever cars were driving towards him wisely decided to turn around and head back, already phoning up everyone in their contact list about the incoming disaster. In the distance, sirens began blaring, alerted by the remote’s activation and programmed to warn the city that it was about to be buried underneath an avalanche of cum-stuffed flesh. Bea herself heard the alarms, but being the carefree spirit she was, decided that whatever it was could wait, and instead strained her neck to try and see if her roomie’s balls were in eyesight, licking her lips once she noticed the edge of their curvature poking around the corner of an apartment block down the road.

JT had already been shoved against a wall, forced to watch as his hyperactive cum factories covered more ground by the second, feet multiplying unto themselves in a mad frenzy to occupy as much room as the compressor layers allowed. With how powerful the gear was, it was no surprise it was still intact, if massively stretched out; at least it kept his package nice and safe instead of adding flooding to the list of problems he was about to create.

A couple of minutes later, it all ended, when the rumbling advance stopped on the other side of the road, both of JT’s nuts having smashed the façade of the buildings opposite the one he was pressed against. He could feel his heartbeat coursing through the surface of his immense nuts, causing them to gurgle and churn with a deep, bassy tone, filling his ears with the promise of more. It was a testament to how ludicrously enormous he was that JT managed to keep himself quite conscious and self-aware during the process; being forced to experience his own true size during every waking moment made him appreciate how tiny this kind of scale actually was compared to him. Still, he was sure Bea was enjoying it, probably being able to catch a small glimpse of him from where they lived.

And he’d be right; the canid’s free hand was already fully occupied stuffing itself into her saline-swollen mound, pre-prepared for such an occasion and already paying off. Bea hadn’t expected a single layer to yield results of that magnitude, and immediately picked up on what the timely sirens were meant to represent… but it was impossible to resist. With nine buttons to press and so much time on her hands to do it in, it would be a disservice to the both of them if she didn’t go all the way; or at least that’s what she told herself when her finger slammed on the button labelled “3”.

JT had been expecting that to happen at any moment, and thus attempted to brace himself. As it stood, however, nothing he ever could’ve done would’ve prepared his mind for the tidal wave of endorphins rushing through him when his nuts flattened the two buildings they were leaning against, along with the rest of the city block, in the first second of his release. He would’ve moaned out for more, but his cum factories had bloated hard enough to stuff his own face into them, ending up pushing JT onto the ground so they could continue their growth unabated by their owner’s squishy body. He was trapped underneath a pair of orbs that were all too happy to demolish the city, just seconds behind the frantic evacuation effort that was underway. Cars were tipped over and turned into slabs of scrap, entire office buildings crashed to the ground before being mulched, the streets themselves collapsed under the weight and allowed bulging meat to start pressing down on the foundations and water pipelines; whatever happened afterwards was irrelevant, as the city was being made uninhabitable by the second!

Bea, meanwhile, was too busy squeezing her own tits and muff to really care about their apartment being completely shattered, maintaining just enough lucidity to shove the remote into the one place it could stay safe, if not exactly dry. In a single second, their home was destroyed, and her body, inflated to absurd proportions as it was, was rendered insignificant as it was flattened against the advancing wall of gurgling, stretched-taut meat, kept going quick enough to not even slide an inch!

One by one, the sirens were silenced, car alarms made to ring out only to be muffled, concrete cracked and steel bent, all while the odd wandering helicopter was made to divert course after witnessing the birth of two enormous, black-coloured hills, the compressor gear marvelously working exactly as intended and giving the lynx a perfect view of their own handiwork from the relative safety of the company headquarters on the outskirts of town. They got to see as the sky was blotted out and the urban jungle was obliterated by the third layer of compression alone, the sounds being powerful enough on their own to shake the windows in their office until they started falling from their frames… only to be kept from smashing onto the ground below by the two orbs finally halting their growth right when they were squishing against the HQ, each glass pane being forced to crash inwardly when each window was turned into a hole for JT’s flesh to intrude upon.

The lynx took a sip of coffee. They couldn’t even hear their own thoughts over the sound of the growth gel inside of those immense things.

It was time to leave.

Bea took a while to recover, only to become confused as to why they were by a river. It took them a few seconds, as well as the groans of hundreds of people around her, for her to remember what she’d done, and to instantly look up to admire the consequences of her actions. It was hard to do so, all things considered; she was staring at a wall of flesh so vast that its top was invisible to her, blocked by the bulging curvature of the cum-stuffed orbs the compressor gear was holding back. Judging from how far from the city she was, however, Bea could only guess that said city would have to be erased from the maps in the following years.

And yet…

The remote had fallen from her when she stood up, slick with her juices and yet still miraculously functioning. The canine couldn’t help herself; at that point, there was no enjoyment to be had as much as it was just something that had to happen. The image on the button labelled “4” was very obviously a small-scale picture of Eurasia, and assuming the size progression was kept, then the canid had no doubt whatsoever that the next step in JT’s journey would take him to sizes neither of them had ever experienced before. There was no choice to be had; the button had to be pressed.

***

When she came to, Bea was lying down on a bed with a metal roof over her head. It brought back memories, though of what she couldn’t remember. Around her were countless other people of all shapes and sizes, each of them rising from just one of what looked like thousands, tens of thousands of oddly-shaped, metallic tubes. It was only then that Bea realized she herself was inside of one, and panic began to set in.

Getting up as quickly as she could, looking around for where the remote had gone, she instead noticed that her “bed”, which was thankfully big enough that her couch-sized ass could fit inside comfortably, had a small screen on the top, where an emergency message was being repeated in bright red, glowing letters:

CRITICAL MASS REACHED

EMERGENCY EVACUATION PROTOCOLS IN EFFECT

EVACUATION PROTOCOL STATUS: 75%

CASUALTIES: 0

All around her, the crowd began to notice the warning, the ones that had been there at ground zero knowing exactly what it referred to. On a whim, Bea looked up, and saw exactly what she had always dreamed of: there, displayed on a long string of large monitors, were realtime satellite images of Europe, centered so northern Africa and parts of Asia could be seen as well… or rather, would be able to be seen, if not for the still-growing pair of orbs that had already displaced most of the landmass underneath it and was starting to cross the Mediterranean, its water overflowing nearly as much as JT’s nuts were.

Bea could do nothing but stand in slack-jawed awe at what she had wrought, her hands instinctively searching for her swollen muff… only to find a long, thin object stashed inside.

The remote was still operational. Five buttons remained.

She grinned.