~5.000 word story featuring gay lizards and blueberry inflation. Also available for reading here on my main website!
"I've been holding out on this until I found someone like you." Windsor's words filled the quiet, dimly-rit room so suddenly it made the scales on Mehji's back momentarily crawl. Beneath the idyll autumn sceneries at the ranch house, he had been led to a room packed with machinery and chemical equipment. The crisp air and warm-hued leaves gave way to a well-camouflaged den of metallic greens and blues.
"Don't say cryptic things," the perturbed lizard just over half his height rebuked, keeping up pace behind his tour guide. His hands dug deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, despite the warmth radiating from the machines all over. As they walked, Mehji snuck several glances away from the curiosities all around to try and read Windsor's face. All he could make out was a confident, smug grin.
"So," the pale dragon's march stopped as the two approached an unusual display glowing with minty green light, "this is my magnum opus." He turned on a heel to face his guest, wearing the same baffling smirk… Next to this stellar contraption, though, a sparkle danced in his eyes.
Mehji's gaze broke with Windsor as he sized up the machine. Inside, like a sample floating in an enormous test tube, a full-body jumpsuit, boots, gloves and a mask were suspended. Looking at it, even up close, it was difficult to tell whether they were actually submerged in liquid or resin. The glass container appeared ethereal, draped in fluorescent viridian shining from lamps below. The tube was embedded in a steel base platform decorated by flickering control panel buttons.
The torso of the bodysuit was decorated with interweaving stripes that diverge and trace the outer arms and legs. A slim black belt featuring an elliptical metal buckle outlined in studs divided it in half vertically. The gloves and boots had cuffs shaped into wide spikes splayed outward. The lurid crimson fabric patterned with bold gray details appeared well-made, albeit strangely large and baggy.
"Is… is this your Halloween costume?" Mehji surmised, scratching the back of his head and forcing a smile. "It's, uh, cool. Which superhero was this again?"
Reacting to the lukewarm response, Windsor's face dropped into a disappointed frown. Unsure what he could have said wrong, Mehji chuckled nervously.
"This is not some measly costume. This… is Wrath." As the white dragon spoke of his creation, he turned to cast a prideful gaze thereupon, a smile creeping back onto his face.
"Isn't that one of those cardinal sins, mister…?" Mehji prodded jokingly. But Windsor simply sighed and faced him, speaking up with a serious tone.
"Mehji, do you remember the day we met?" Windsor's serious, seemingly off-the-cuff question was startling, though easily answered.
"Of course, though I barely believe it. We rolled people the size of zeppelins out of a restaurant…" Giving a brief nod, Windsor carried on.
"Aster City has been ravaged by that same incident happening again and again. People all over the place, in small groups, uncontrollably blowing up. It's a rapid growth that turns your body blue and fills you with juice." As he recounted the events of the past weeks, Windsor's eyes closed tight and he tapped between his brows with an index finger.
"The… the blueberries…" Mehji pulled a hand out of his pocket to insinctively carress his stomach, casting his mind back to the situation in question. His face must have contorted slightly as he spoke, because the taller reptilian's smug grin returned. A nervous feeling raging through Mehji spawned beads of sweat on his forehead.
"You were of great help that day. In fact, I don't think I've seen anyone else quite so excited to do heavy lifting." A gentle blush rose to Mehji's cheeks and his eyes forced themselves away.
"I- I just like being a helpful lil' guy, is all," the embarrassed green lizard attempted to clarify. "Was just following your instructions, really…"
"Then you won't mind putting this suit on for me." With a fluid motion, Windsor reached out and pressed a large eject button on the container's control panel. Immediately, the tube's glass walls slid down to the base, flooding the room in glowing seafoam hues. The garments gently fluttered down to the platformbeneath them, landing at Windsor's waist height.
"Right now? You want a superhero strip show?" Mehji jabbed into Windsor's side playfully with an elbow. "Ya gooner."
"W-what?!" Now, it was the alabaster reptile's turn to blush, which he poorly hid by turning his chin up and away. "To make fast-changing possible, it's designed to fit around any kind of dresswear. You don't even need to take your shoes… off…"
His spiel was abruptly interrupted upon reopening his eyes. Mehji's lower half was already stripped down to just boxers, and his arms were raised over his head to remove the white wifebeater formerly obscured by a large jersey. As he casually tossed the shirt into a pile of his other discarded clothes, their eyes locked. This time, it was Mehji's turn to meet a stunned, flushed face with a cocky smirk.
"What? Are you gay?" He teased, flexing his right bicep playfully. Windsor's jaw dropped but his brain had yet to catch upto speed.
"Well, but… It's not like… Y-you just don't have to, um, undress if you don't want to," the words raced each other out of his gaping maw, but Windsor's composure wasn't regained whatsoever.
"Enough yapping, you dork. You wanna see these guns in a tight suit?" Windsor's diamond eyes shot back and forth from the nearly-nude hunk actively teasing him, unable to conjure up words. "I wanna see more of that look on your face."
As he spoke, Mehji took hold of the suit and unfolded it before him. It unfurled all the way out onto the floor, despite being suspended in his hands over his head. Expeditiously, he unzipped the flashy suit from the top down to the tail-hole, and stepped inside with one leg.
"It's huge," he noted aloud while dressing himself. "You couldn't have secretly taken my measurements better?"
"… You'll see how it works," Windsor retorted, cheeks still rosy. Mehji raised a brow, uncertain what that could mean, but continued, trusting the dragon's guidance to be benign. As he slid his arms down the sleeves of the costume, he turned around.
"Help me out," Mehji instructed, gesturing with one hand at the zipper running down his back. Windsor stepped forward and, with a single decisive tug, closed it all the way up to his neck.
"Excellent. A perfect fit!" Windsor exclaimed with glee as Mehji slowly turned around. The suit was, contrarily, extremely loose and tall, despite being sealed quite firmly around his wrists, ankles, the base of his tail and the top of his neck. As he slid on the boots and gloves, Mehji felt the accessories snap into place like magnets. Despite the unflattering fit, there was a remarkable degree of care put into every piece.
"So, this is what you're into…?" Mehji probed, his tone landing between serious and jokingly pejorative. Most of the fabric was exaggeratedly draped around him like a blanket. He waved his arms slightly up and down, expectedly uncomfortable. "I think some, uh, adjustments might be necessary." From behind, Windsor raised the bandana-like mask up to the smaller reptile's eyes, fastening it into a secure knot below the spikes on his head. Despite their stark-white eyecaps, the mask conferred surprisingly unimpeded visibility.
"Quiet, now… Just follow my lead. You know which arm is your right one?"
"I'm not completely helpless, mister." Mehji smirked, and gestured with the according arm.
"Good. Snap your fingers with that hand."
"Like this?"
Upon triggering the click between his index finger and thumb, a small but distinct beep from the suit's chest area rang out. Before he could react, with the light sound of a vaccuum sealer, the entire garment restricted against his body.
"Guh--" Mehji gasped, puffing out his chest as he felt the soft fabric grow quickly tense. A sense of surprise stunned his jaw open as he held out both arms, contorting around to survey his body with wide eyes. "Holy… That scared me shitless." But as he continued to twist around, the initial shock gradually settling, an emphatic grin spread onto his face. "Hah… haha! Wow. How the fuck did you pull this off?"
The garment was fitted, in the blink of an eye, to perfection. Every curve of his body appeared sculpted beneath the unbelievably smooth fabric. With awe illuminating his visage, the green lizard was stunned into staring at himself in the reflection of a tall machine. This comfort level in such a tight garment was unthinkable to him. It would take hours of meticulous stitching to achieve anything similar.
"You look incredible." Windsor spoke up after letting his newly-dressed partner look himself over. He walked up behind the distracted man and planted both hands on his shoulders. Mehji, who had been on-edge just moments before, didn't react at all. "What you're looking at… What you're wearing… is how I'll fix the blueberries. This is Wrath."
"Your answer is to become a superhero?" Mehji curied, still transfixed on his own reflection. "I thought they caught the guy behind the breakouts already."
"Not quite." Windsor's hands began to explore his guest's figure. "I'm no hero. All I have is this flashy suit…" His palms follow the lines down Mehji's arms before gripping the sides of his chest and sliding down to his waist. "The blueberries just keep popping up, no matter how many culprits get arrested." His words kept Mehji from melting into the gentle massage. "You might now know, but some even remain afflicted long-term, expanding repeatedly…"
Mehji's body, mostly cool beneath the breathable bodysuit, couldn't resist warming up with big hands prodding at it. With an audible gulp, he stared into Windsor's calm eyes and spoke, "I thought permaberries were mythical."
"On the contrary, there are many. And twenty-ton life isn't easy in the city. You just don't fit in anywhere." Winsdor lifted his hands away from Mehji's hips and turned on a heel to take a few steps away. Windsor grew unxpectedly quiet as his brow shaded his downturned eyes. An indiscernable but painful emotion rose with him, expressed clearly through his self-assured facade.
"What're you going to do then? Find out whodunnit? Or run around, juicing everyone in your path?" Mehji brainstormed lightheartedly but his lanky suitor's demeanor refused to lighten.
"Nah." Click. Turning to face Windsor, Mehji heard the distinctive click priming the raygun pointed in his face, which began glowing with electric vigor. "I'm gonna make the problem so bad someone else solves it." Shivers rocketed up Mehji's spine and a sweat drop fell from his chin. "How about it? Just one beam and you'll get your dream body. It's like magic." Windsor responded, staring down his quaking partner deviously.
"W… wait…" the man sizing up a gun pointed his way sputtered. "What…? Dream body? It'll make me ripped if I want?" Mehji couldn't contain his questions, startled by the sudden attack. In his racing mind, the short lizard pictured himself bulging with muscles in the stunning red suit.
"Only if you truly dream of that." Windsor assured as the gun's charging light grew ever vibrant. Mehji groaned quietly, uncertain. Never in his dreams had he imagined himself so rich in brawn. But if this was a chance to quickly grow, he'd kick himself for declining.
So, with a face stiff as steel, he consented concisely.
"Hit me."
A bright ray blinded him as it collided with his midsection, disspating into him as a warm light. Windsor blew on the red-hot tip of the raygun forcefully, breaking up a steam cloud pouring off of it. As his eyes reopened, Mehji looked down to survey his body again, but nothing had visibly changed about it. He patted himself down with gloved hands, unable to sense any dramatic alterations to his figure as Windsor placed the raygun on a nearby counter.
"It didn't work…?" Mehji pumped an arm in the air, flexing it as dramatically as possible. "I haven't gained a pound."
Windsor laughed snidely. "It takes a while so you can really savor the change," He watched the suited-up lizard hastily squeeze at his own muscles, testing for any identifiable growth. "But it looks like it's working just fine to me."
Several questions rose to mind but were beaten to Mehji's lips by a loud belch. He raised a fist to cover it as best as possible, embarrassed. With his other hand, he rubbed at his belly just above his belt. Paying close attention, he could sense bubbles rising in his stomach before they rose sharply in volume. But still, his midsection was no flatter than normal. His brows furrowed in confusion.
"Surely this isn't a gun that just makes you gassy, mister?" Mehji joked. But as he pulled away the hand covering his mouth, he noticed a strange effect creeping its way down his arm. "Wait, huh…?" A deep cornflower color had sneakily appeared around his upper torso. On closer inspection, however, the splotchy effect was spreading like airbrushed paint toward his wrists. He leaned over, watching it race down his front, traveling past his groin and knees down his legs.
As the realization sank in, his breath paused momentarily, then picked back up into a rapid rhythm. As he turned his head back up, the sight of Windsor's euphoric grin made butterflies go wild in his stomach. Blood rushed to his face with such speed enough to nearly knock Mehji out. Embarassed to beet-red, he span around to the mirrored surface from just moments ago…
But the face that greeted him was a deep, rich indigo. In fact, in just seconds, blue hues swallowed his entire body, as though he was dipped in a vat of dye.
"I think I know where this is going," Windsor ominously murmured through a giddy sneer. Mehji's panicked eyes shot back up as his arms dropped to his side. "And that means I chose correctly with you," the taller lizard's tail grew erect as he watched on, struggling to contain elated laughter.
"No way," Inside his mind, Mehji was torn between fear and excitement. But his stomach was churning like an ice-cream machine, kicking up a racket even as he doubled over, pressing into it with both hands. "In my dreams, it doesn't… start this fast…" He was overcome with the sensation of having ravenously eaten past his limit. Through the thin fabric of his suit, he could feel his belly protruding scantly. Between the clamoring of his strained stomach and the soft gut where defined abs just were, the grumbling lizard began bloating up like he went overboard on soda.
The tall dragon released a deep belly-laugh he had kept bottled in for a while. Across the cool tiles he strode, placing a pair of fingers beneath Mehji's chin and lifting it to meet his gaze directly. He spoke warmly as he stroked it gently, ogling his helpless victim's face cloaked in the vivid hues of spirulina. "I'll keep you safe. I promise." Mehji swallowed dramatically as the gurgling from his gut continued, embarrassed to have his upset stomach heard by Windsor. But the white dragon stood close in front of him, their bodies separated by less than an inch. "Just enjoy the ride."
"Urk-!" Mehji, captured in the moment, momentarily forgot what situation he was in. He looked down in disbelief, his jaw slightly unhinged. "It's… really happening!" The juice filling him up spilled over. His belly, once meticulously slim, puffed up into a growing mass approaching the size of a basketball. In and out, the short lizard panted, trying to rationalize his situation. With a single curious hand, he pressed into the dramatically swelling paunch, leaving behind a dark handprint-shaped stain. He moaned as his gut kept duly stretching outward, pursing out over the tight belt cradling it from below.
Windsor pressed his waist into the ballooning lizard's girth, wrapping an explorative arm around his waist. "How's it feel…?" His voice dipped into deep tones as he uttered the question, eyes meticulously soaking in every inch of his subject.
"I can't stop filling up…" Mehji spat out between breaths, his body overtaken by a flurry of senses. "You're going to fucking pop me!" He ballooned so quickly and with such force that a natural sense of alarm rang out. But as Windsor's weight leaned into the sensitive, swollen pillow forming on his front, a rapturous pleasure overtook him. Its forceful growth continued unabated, blocking his view below his own midriff, before juice began to trickle out into the rest of his body.
"You'll be alright," Windsor spoke with a genuine tone that betrayed his devious expression. "Just relax, berry boy. Your fantasies are coming true."
At once, both of his breasts swelled up, spurning another gutteral noise from Mehji. His chest pressed against his chin as it grew, deepening the ecstasy gradually welling up in him. As he stared into Windsor's calm eyes his anxious trembling from before dissolved into a ravishing calm. With a smooth motion, Windsor's fingers cupped around his partner's asscheek, giving it a firm squeeze.
As if choreographed, Mehji's cheeks surged with juice. First, his ass ballooned outward, the pressure of Windsor's squeeze growing as it pressed into it. A rush of delight soared in Mehji, to whom the sensation of a hand on his taut skin felt electric, only intensifying as billows of juice pumping into him.
Moments later, desperate for room, the juice worked its way up past his chest. His lips pursed, pressed together by his face swelling as though with millions of calories at once. Mehji's eyes rolled back uncontrollably, unable to be kept in control as the tide of sweet liquid sqeezed itself inside of him. The emotions ripping through him, spurred on by the pressure of Windsor's sensual grip, overloaded his thoughts.
"Now this is what I'm into…" Windsor grumbled, his face twisted in a nefarious, turned-on smirk. As Mehji ballooned up in his arms, staggering at the sheer heft of his burgeoning frame, he was forced to step back. Gripping the sides of the swollen lizard's waist, he admired his handiwork with delight. With each deep breath, his nostrils were filled with the scent of fresh blueberry. He bit his lower lip to hold in an unhinged moan.
"You gotta help me, man…!" Mehji shouted as his limbs fattened up with ease, forcing him to extend them into a pose like a starfish. The gurgling, creaking bedlam from inside of him overwhelmed his ears as he gushed with fluid. His skintight suit squeezed against his inflating body, stubbornly refusing to break at even a single seam. The dark juice handprints staining his apparel had spread to encompass him entirely. Traces of the saccharine violet fluid were pressed out of Mehji's every pore, stickying the floor with a puddle beneath his feet.
"How am I… supposed to live… as a blueberry?" Words eked out of the stout reptile's mouth between heavy breaths. He waddled about, desperately redistributing his ballooning weight. At first, most of his girth localized around his waist. But the unrelenting pressure mounting within him forced its way outward, rounding his frame out smoothly. Rapidly transforming in such a revealing costume was embarassing, no matter how well it contained his bulging form.
"Well, for starters, I hope you like the flavor." Windsor joked, stepping back again. "But besides that, you don't have to do much of anything. Kick back and go with the flow." Then, with a swift but gentle tackle, he shoved into the massive lizard. With a yelp, Mehji stumbled back before his balance gave out and his gargantuan rear collided with the ground. "Not that you have much of a choice at this point."
Mehji flapped his limbs with all the force he could muster, but they resisted, steadily growing bulkier with each passing second. All he could do was wiggle his hands and feet, reveling in the sensation of being blown up into the spitting image of a blueberry.
His legs had grown so wide that they seemed to melt into the girth of his waist. His feet wriggled, vainly struggling against the force of his round groin gradually swallowing them up. The bubbling juice roared as it surged up his body to fill out his torso similarly, trapping his hands. As he swelled into a near-perfect sphere, losing complete control of his distended body, his suit miraculously stretched to encompass it seamlessly. The growing lizard moaned and groaned, eyes darting around to observe his impossibly huge body progressively expanding. Forced apart by his torso, he helplessly watched his hands disappear over the sides of his own burgeoning figure.
Windsor, with ever-curious hands, felt at the seams of the suit running flush down Mehji's spherical body. Despite showing obvious signs of tension, it remained unbroken, even around the areas that had fattened up the most. The thin belt wrapped snugly around the blueberry's midsection caused his flesh to purse gently around it. Like an artist surveying their own masterpiece, he radiated with joy, staring on at Mehji with a serene smile.
But Mehji continued to inflate. As he fattened beyond his own range of reach, his feet were ungrounded by the swelling fat between them. His body balloned outward, rising up like a nearly-full beach ball being topped off with air. Back and forth his globular body rocked, skin and suit creaking as though reaching their limits. Mehji's limbs stretched as far as they could, but his body swallowed them up as it swelled even wider.
"Mmph! Mmmm…" While being sucked into his swelling body, Mehji's plump cheeks sealed his mouth shut. All he could manage to vocalize were quiet grunts. He could hardly turn his head, let alone see over the rising girth encompassing it. Even his most mobile parts were similarly trapped, leaving his hands and feet incapable of more than gentle wiggling. "Helpff…" Raised up by his round backside, staring at the metallic ceiling, a single weak word rose to his lips.
"You're so ripe, I could just take a big, fat bite…" Windsor walked back up to the blueberry and embraced it again, pressing his face into the smooth, taut surface. "Or bake the world's biggest pie."
Rounding out, Mehji felt his inflation start to ease for the first time. As his creaking frame finally blew past Windsor's height, it rocked around its center point. The blueberry lizard's weight rocketed exponentially as the final traces of juice surged into him in a quick, steady burst. With that, Mehji moaned loudly, his face too swollen to vocalize anything more complex. As the final wave poured into him, slowing his expansion to a trickle, all that could be heard in the dark room was the raucous sloshing of fluid settling inside him.
Mehji was desparate to shout if it would relieve even a tiny fraction of the pressure to which he had been filled. Despite being painless, his turgid body was in an extreme excess of pressure beyond that which any person could reasonably reach. His face was still hot with feverish embarrassment, stressed largely by the immobility that so immediately overtook him.
"In fact, I have many plans for you," Windsor continued. While talking, he shifted his weight down, rolling the taut round balloon toward himself. It took a few tugs to position him correctly, but eventually, Mehji's puffy face appeared over the top of the round mass. The two watched each other intently as Mehji continued rolling, only coming to a halt as his face pointed down to meet Windsor's head-on. "You're the biggest berry I've ever seen, and that's saying something." Just like before, Windsor stuck a single hand beneath Mehji's bloated chin, caressing it with passion-filled eyes.
But this time, he leaned in to plant a kiss on Mehji's lips. The two closed their eyes and the moment froze for just a second before the lanky dragon pulled back.
"Thank you," he murmured, staring the blueberry straight in the eyes. "Now, go ahead and snap again. Right hand."
It took a moment before Mehji processed what he had been told. The sensation of being trapped in his own engorged body was frankly stunning. Moments later, though, he weakly forced his fingers together, accomplishing a single quiet snap. Instinctively, Windsor raised a single arm to cover his eyes and held his breath.
Incomprehensibly speedily, Mehji felt high tension envelop his entire body, pressing inward in all directions. "Holy--!" Before he could make sense of it, the fat distorting his face disappeared, allowing him to emit half of a startled interjection. Like a water balloon being popped, he deflated, a surge of juice spraying out and covering the room in all directions. As though his transformation played out in reverse, he was pressed completely free of juice in just seconds. In fact, it occurred so quickly that his belly was lifted away from the ground, leaving the short lizard momentarily suspended in mid-air.
But such conditions did not last, as he came tumbling down to the ground, landing on what remained of his cushy paunch before it quickly reverted to its original flat shape. As the wave of juice freed from him landed, raining from the ceiling, he clambered to his feet with a hand on his pounding head.
"I… I popped. I thought you said…" Mehji grumbled, patting at his midsection grumpily. At first, his perceived betrayal by Windsor sparked in him a flash of anger. But as he patted himself down top to bottom with both hands, looking over his decidedly normal-looking body, it fizzled out. "What kind of wizardry is this?"
"Hahahaha," Windsor laughed heartily before scooping Mehji up into a bear hug. Oddly, the former was drenched in deep blue juice, while the latter had reverted to his typical coloration. It ere as though it never changed. "It worked! What a success!"
"Whoa, whoa, what do ya mean?!" Mehji, held up by a pair of arms around his midsection, continued to survey his own hands. "How did you get all that out of me so fast?"
"Alright, I'll explain," the tall dragon set Mehji back down on his feet gently. "This was all a test for that suit. It didn't break and the compression mechanism worked flawlessly." Mehji gave a baffled look, so he continued. "It can basically squeeze you back to shape. See, look! That was all in you!"
Windsor spun around with his hands extended wide, smiling more than anyone witnessing so much property damage ever should. There was a thin pool of juice beneath their feet and not a single centimeter of wall space wasn't coated in the substance. Mehji patted his belly, cogs turning in his head, as he examined the damage.
Did any of that even really happen? He thought pensively. Is this… a dream right now?
"Do you… wanna give these suits out to people?" Mehji inquired, trying to imagine what could have motivated such a mystical invention. "That's your plan to solve the blueberry epidemic?"
"No," Windsor replied directly, still surprisingly cheerful. "Like I said, this world isn't built to accomodate for berries to exist." While speaking, he strolled over to the table upon which the raygun from earlier was set. Mehji recoiled instinctively as he picked it up but relaxed upon seeing it resting on its side in his open palms.
"I must admit I lied about this," Windsor gingerly raised the weapon in the air. "This gun just makes blueberries out of everyone it hits. The only thing here that can read your dreams… is me."
Struck at the understanding that he had been deceived, Mehji's mouth fell agape. What he had just experienced was a snowstorm of emotions hardly able to be captured by words.
"My plan? Simply fill the world with blueberries until it changes." Windsor laid out his intentions plainly.
"Are you the one who started all this, then?" Mehji probed with a gravely serious tone, still unmoving from where he originally stood up.
"No," answered Windsor, his eyes fixed upon his partner to convey his words with identical gravity. "I have my suspicions as to who did but am uncertain." For a moment, in the sickly-sweet subterranean study, the two tensely stared each other down. "So, with all that said…" Windsor stepped forward, still suspending the gun in outstretched arms. "I would like to ask you to be my partner in crime."
Mehji could not have predicted what transpired in the past few minutes. As he looked down at the firearm being given to him, he reached up with a single gloved hand to accept it but froze just inches away. With unsteady eyes, he sought for comfort in Windsor's warm, intent smile. Then, returning his focus, he picked it up by the handle, resting a careful finger on the trigger guard.
The weapon entered his grip comfortably, weighing subtantially less than he anticipated. Windsor relaxed his arms at his sides, glowing with pride at the sight of Mehji in his suit.
"I suppose that does sound a little fun," Mehji smirked as he posed with the gun pointed toward the porcelain-white dragon. He held it for a moment before angling his aim to just narrowly miss to the right. "Who know what else you have stashed down here, too?"
For the first time since he began swelling, Mehji soaked in the room in close detail as he lowered his weapon. All around him were workstations, machinery, tools and clothing. The scene was almost fantastical, decorated with active monitors and branding painted across the walls. A rather simplistic emblem in the shape of a W appeared in more places around the laboratory than he originally noticed.
"Well, in that case, welcome to Wrath HQ… rookie." Windsor's frigidly serious demeanor defroze as he offered a playful handshake. With his empty hand, Mehji reached out and accepted it. "So, how's about we get to cleaning u--?!"
Rambling made Windsor visibly inattentive, so Mehji gave him a swift tug on the arm, pulling the two men into a firm embrace. Before his eyes could flutter open, the short lizard delivered a passionate kiss unto the lips of the other. With one of Mehji's arms around his waist, Windsor let himself slide into the liplock.
Suddenly, the room flashed white. A warm sensation disspiated into Windsor from his back. As though unbothered, he pulled away from kissing the man that just shot him with a toothy, satisfied grin.
"Before that…" Mehji looked directly into Windsor's eyes as he tossed away the still-warm raygun. "I wanna see if your dream body is the same as mine…" He gripped behind Windsor's ass firmly on both sides as the two reptiles pressed into each other, exchanging loving, menacing grins. "…And I wonder if juice tastes sweeter when harvested with revenge." Windsor took in a deep breath as he rested his arms on Mehji's broad shoulders. "Don't hold out on me, now…"
But across the happy face he gazed into longingly, a vivid blue had already begun to spread.
Hey, why was the peach acting funny? Because it was all fuzzy! HAH. No wait, I have another. What do you call someone who can’t stop eating peaches? A bottomless PIT! AAAAAHA.
I like drawing my characters as naive, new lab assistants or employees. First day of training for Simon didn’t go as he planned it, and now he’s all prepared for the heavy duty work he was hired for, big and small.
"sorry you got stuck with me, man. out of the two of us, i really thought i'd be the one that'd fuck it up." he slammed his body against mine, sending me into a haphazard roll along my side. i've lost track of the path we took to get here. surprisingly, despite the violent swirling and sloshing within me, i was more exhausted than i was nauseous. i could do nothing but grow... and listen to my unfortunate tour partner monologue between grunts. "but i forgive ya in advance."
alas, i have swollen up—before a crowd of my snickering, disgusted peers, into a fat blue balloon. the memory of screaming as i grew and grew, rocking back and forth on unsteady legs, was fresh. But the horror had subsided, as the trick gum that spurred my expansion on capped its own output to a gentle bubbling once i had fully rounded out. my hands and feet were helpless to move me, as my girth had swollen out around them, but i flapped them with what force i could muster. i was pulled forward by gravity, and made eye contact with this nimrod.
frankly, i, too, expected him to be the one wind up transfigured beyond recognition by the end of this. the idiot's been stuffing his face with every morsel of chocolate he could find. as we entered the inventing room, i remember him distinctly bitching about how bloated he was while he chomped away at a marshmallow. the pasty athlete i paired up with by chance has rather boisterously taken over my care, assigned to do so by the tour guide. together, we slowly progress through the factory, en route to what will allegedly be my 'juicer'. on the minutes-long path to our destination, he's burped mid-sentence twice.
"i can't believe wonka said this is gonna be permanent, big guy..." his hands are pressed hard against the side of my body, and with each shove against my side i hear his tennis shoes squeak. but he pauses, and the pressure against me is lightened. his hands pushed into me from above, holding me still. "i've got, like the weirdest boner ever about that."
just minutes ago, i thought the weirdest part of this tour would be rolling around as a human blueberry. along our journey, however, i've come to the decision that he's a candidate.
you wanna bugatti? you wanna maserati? you wanna see my art a month early? well, if you said yes, i'm blushing and covering my face with my hands hehe, but also, you nmeed to look at my buymeacoffee membership which is just $5/month... and if you are interested you can join.............but no pressure i love u no matter what ok?
2,500 word story written over the course of a day. Features two men startled by an expansive beginning to their lazy morning after a huge house party.
“Hey, dude,” I nudged the husky boy asleep on my couch. He tossed and turned as my prodding continued throughout the minute, lulled into drowsiness by its gentle suede texture. I sighed, pulling myself back to admire the snoring slob: his short but stocky frame curled admirably into the loveseat, strange wine stains dribbled down the white wife-beater stretched across his chest and tucked into red track pants. Still seemingly asleep, he lifted his shirt with a slow hand and scratched at his happy trail. My eyebrows raised.
“Yo, Austin.” I pressed harder against his arm, and the thick eyelashes hooded by dark furrowed brows parted lightly. “Oh, shit, man. It’s even worse.”
“What’s worse?” His hoarse, deep voice creaked out as the man gradually climbed out of slumber. His body jolted before he erupted into a belch loud enough I was forced to wait for it to end. After he recovered with a deep breath, I launched into my explanation:
“There’s some stuff spreading on your face.” It was succinct but accurate; the sweaty athlete hunkered down on this chair in the middle of the sofa and went basically comatose. I could smell alcohol on his breath as the burp pervaded my general area, which explained his roaring gut—but orange…?
“Stuff? The fuck?” Austin, ever the wordsmith, quickly leapt into action with a curious arm, shuffling his digits all over that sleepy freckled visage. “I don’t feel anything. But man, what a party, right?” Beneath the discoloration, I could tell that my eyes burning holes in our star player brought a lively rosiness to his slender pale face. Between burps, he tried to give me a reassuring grin.
My brows furrowed as I watched him sit up, dipping his face down as he pulled his center of mass upward. When he raised it, I gasped: his entire head was bright orange, minus the worried hazel eyes that darted about and those pearly whites. “You look like… well, like an orange?!” My arms crossed and my mouth fell open as I guffawed at the deeply discolored athlete surveying his body on my couch. By now, whatever this effect was had slid down his thick trunk enough to be noticeable even by him.
“What in the hell…?” His muscular arms stuck out as he watched the hue spread down them as though someone had taken an airbrush to his skin. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow as his breath began to quicken and the rumbling of his belly churned even louder. The confident smile on his face mutated into a surprised, inquisitive glare as every last inch of his skin was doused in what looked like beaming neon orange paint.
It would seem that things were at a head to the two of them: this transformation alone was bizarre enough to be simply inexplicable. How did this man, who has been sleeping for hours, just get turned into a walking orange highlighter? If it wasn’t for the clothes wrapped around his nearly fluorescent body, the beaming glow amplified the luster of his rough skin. I was pinned to the spot, admiring this abnormality as he lifted up his arm and took a heavy whiff of the hair in his armpit. At first, he pulled back as though reacting to the pungent body odor he expected; but he froze, lulled into a sense of curiosity, and went back to sniffing himself.
“This is insane, man. What just happened?” I asked him, finally composed enough to assemble a functional question.
“I smell so fucking good,” he muttered. “Good God,” he reclined into the cushion and closed his eyes, ignoring my inquiry outright. He puffed out his gut with a heavy breath in, his hands sliding down the front of his torso to gently dig his fingers in his abdomen. Austin’s pot belly was the talk of the fraternity after he ballooned up 50 pounds in weight within a year, fattening himself up with an insane diet that expanded him seemingly faster than pregnancy could have. He would slim down considerably as years passed, but beneath the wrinkles of his sleeveless shirt I could spot the plump paunch that time left behind.
“Are you… are you okay?” I began to wonder what merit these questions of mine even held at this point, since he seemed preoccupied by moaning and groaning. “You’re not in pain, are you?” I stepped towards the human nightlight, concerned his writhing was out of pain.
“M-Mitch,” he gasped between breaths and deep belches. “I’m gonna pop… H-help…” From that belly beneath the off-white tank, sounds of gurgling as vicious as boiling water erupted.
“Pop?! What, what, are you horny or--?!” My question would get answered not with words but with yet another astonishing sight. At first, I thought Austin’s heavy breaths were causing his body to expand with air. But as he rumbled away, moaning uncontrollably, he seemed to fatten up at an insane rate. What remained of his Adonis belt melted as every last pound he lost over the years were immediately reverted.
Austin must have been stunned speechless, because the only thing coming out of his mouth was dribble seeping from the corners of his pursed lips. He ballooned up as though someone shoved an air compressor up his rear and cranked it up without warning: the little belly Mitch noticed before swelled round and tight, pushing out over the lap between his spread legs. The front of his shirt was pulled out from under his sweatpants, unable to remain tucked as the hunky man’s gut filled it out in seconds. The deep voice he spoke with seemed to quiet as his cheeks filled up, puckering his bright red lips and forcing his pitiful moans up an octave.
Mitch could only watch in shock as his friend’s dramatic growth spiraled out of control. It appeared as though his belly was growing into a nice, fat orange all on its own up until the expansion began to spread. Whatever was pumping him up seemed to have no intention of letting up anytime soon and this world-record-sized ball gut surely couldn’t fit much more in it? Austin groped at it with his hands vigorously, pressing against himself to try and empty his growing body before he loses all control.
He felt a heavy surge of liquid fill his bottom and stretched his neck out to confirm it by sight. His thin but nimble legs had puffed up into ridiculous water balloons in his pants, stretching the seams of his pants to their limits. The bubbling had spread throughout him wherever he seemed to swell; as his wide breasts fattened like beach balls, his head sunk behind them and his moaning drowned in the orchestra of noises his huge body was letting off. Periodically, gas would release from either end of the humongous boy’s body at a rapturous volume but the pressure filling him tight refused to ease whatsoever.
I watched him widen, his wide butt ballooning up enough to spill out from behind his thick legs. Any slack in those track pants had stretched out to its limit, struggling to contain the burgeoning fat within. Before my very eyes, his expanding body transformed like a balloon animal, filling up with girth enough to shove his limbs out. Austin grumbled and groaned as he strained against his own frame, appearing to be drowning in the expanding pool of weight centered around his waist.
His groin lifted his belly up like an auto lift as it grew, twisting the seams of his pants and fully pulling his stained tank out from under their waistband. His furry gut bulged out from beneath his shirt enough to reveal a dense happy trail leading up to his belly button. Surely, his weight had doubled in an instant. The growth appeared to crawl to a stop, leaving the quarter-ton balloon pinned to the couch in a resigned starfish pose.
I strained my ears as the vicious roiling subsided somewhat, having stepped forward and placed the side of my head against his swollen paunch. Were it not for the rough touch of his skin, which sent shivers up his spine when pressed into, there could have been a weather balloon puffed up under that raggedy top or some other exaggerated inflatable costume. He even sounded like a water balloon, the surge of growth from earlier having quieted into a gentle glug, glug, glug…
That explains the ripe orange smell tickling my nostrils, and the syrupy citrus flavor his skin imparted on my curious tongue. The pool of liquid building up beneath him, the bright blotchy stains around his nipples and groin, the relentless bubbling and gurgling… it suddenly all made sense. But, this has to be a dream, Mitch rubbed his own belly, concerned that the effect might be contagious only after tasting his friend’s engorged belly. He could see the orange stain left behind on his tongue but otherwise felt normal; what did Austin do to turn into a fat piece of fruit all of a sudden?
As that thought crossed my mind, I realized that my focus had been lost. Somehow, in the instant I looked away, the rapid expansion that seemed to have been quelled resumed in full force. If there was a hose up the vivid athlete’s rear as Mitch once hypothesized, whoever was its cruel master dialed its pump up to the max. With a troubled yell, muffled by the juice filling his face, Austin’s growth exploded in rate. The boy rocked back and forth as his ass, swelling with the rest of his waist, raised him out of the relaxed pose he assumed on the couch. Buuuuurp! With a splatter of juice raining over his breast down upon my head, the overblown blob of a man belched, likely in response to the rumbling of gas bubbles rising within his distended stomach.
I barely recognized Austin in the mass that bellowed like a fluorescent hot-air balloon. I could see the top of his freshly-shaven head, the floral tattoo running down his right arm, the clothes he’s been wearing all night. But this was barely a human any longer: his skin stretched beyond its natural limits to contain the juice being crammed into it. The lower half of his body grew from a bloated pear-like shape into that of a teardrop as his midsection ballooned out around his waist and sucked in the thick legs beneath it. His socked feet, dirtied by an evening of partying, pressed tight against the flesh that swallowed them up. The overblown remnants of his legs shoved were apart by the mass expanding between them and filled with enough juice to bring them flush with the curvature of his fat waist.
“No, no!” I could barely recognize the words beneath the goop sealing his trap. Austin’s growth refused to slow as his chest similarly forced his arms out to the side and swallowed them up. Slap, slap. His bare hands struck what little they could reach, immobilized and enveloped in big fat arms fit for a nice, round orange.
“What the fuck,” was all I could say as I scanned the human blimp. Just moments ago, I expected the nimble athlete to slink off the couch and crack open a beer like usual. In fact, I came here to ask if he wanted my lunch leftovers, since he slept uninterrupted straight through midday. “Um.” Needless to say, I was shocked into speechlessness throughout almost the entirety of Austin’s sudden inflation. But surveying his new plump body was exhilarating both to the eyes and to my curious digits.
At the base of his shirt and near the fattest area of his waist, the seams of his clothes lost their valiant weight against his girth. But shockingly, the orange was still wrapped in clearly undersized apparel where it counted: juice spurted from his wide nipples gently, the fountains of liquid pushing through the cotton tank squeezing into his torso. The imprint of a penis sprayed it to the side as though his polyester track pants were hardly present, right where it should be at the base of his groin. Wordlessly, I sated my curiosity by pressing my upper body into the blimp, marveling at its immense heft and soft texture.
“Mmmph!” Austin’s eyes rolled as he moaned, the streams surging from his round frame intensified only slightly by my prodding.
The boy before me clocked in at least several tons. The couch beneath him began to fold as juice pumped him ever fuller with each passing second. Despite having fattened into a nearly perfect sphere, his extremities only sunk deeper into the hyperventilating athlete’s zeppelin of a belly. The flapping of his hands and feet grew even more rapid until he was too plump to even be mistakable for a living being any further.
Ten feet, I guessed he must have grown to in both height and width. Folds formed where his arms and legs ballooned up around smothered hands and feet. His face pointed straight up at the ceiling yet his yellow eyes still darted from point to point as though searching for help. I could hear his periodic cries for help beneath the surging, bubbling, straining orchestra unleashed by his impossible growth. Juice gushed from every orifice on his body, dribbling on the furniture and floor messily beneath him.
Boom. Preemptively, I must have plugged my ears and forced my eyes shut, because the earth-shattering bang I was expecting sounded like a distant sound effect. A tsunami of warm liquid showered over me in an instant, forcing me to hold my breath in the heavy deluge for several seconds. But as the dripping of drops transitioned from intense rainfall into a gentle shower, I creaked one eye open toward the scraps of the man once known as--
Austin? My eye took some time to adjust to the brand new paint job the late athlete provided us with during his explosive end. At least, during what I assumed was an explosive end, prior to finally focusing on the camouflaged orange figure lackadaisically louging on a sofa stained the same color as him. Instead of anguish, his flushed face sported closed eyes and a hearty smile, alongside a militia of sweat drops. He, too, opened an eye and spent a moment getting his bearings on the situation; his belly rose and fell with heavy breaths and the arms and legs I watched rise like dough in an oven had reverted to their slender forms.
“Guh…” I guffawed eloquently at my slim friend, whose fate I feared was sealed by his own unending girth.
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