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Puss was beside himself as the changes finally subsided, giving him the chance to look over what had just happened to him. While he still ended up being smaller than the spectre in the long run thanks to his lack of height, proportionally he was much larger than the lupine, which made his shorter stature incredibly unimportant in his eyes. "This is... so intense." The sight of his chest taking up a healthy portion of the view in front of him had his leviathan crotch rocket smack against it, a dollop of preseed smearing his perfect fur. "Had I known it was this easy, I would have called you many lives ago!"

"Truth be told, I thought about it, but," Death admired his handiwork as he contoured the cat's impossibly huge bicep with a claw, "I wasn't ready to make my presence known just then considering... you know," he shot his gaze to meet the swordsman's. "But I think this more than makes up for the lack of contact, wouldn't you agree, papucho?"

"Oh please, keep going! Lavish me your praise." While he was no stranger to admiration from those around him, the compliments Puss received from the wolf stroked a part of him he'd forgotten about. All that time in the gym wasn't for nothing, of course. And now he'd surpassed that size. Sure, it wasn't because he'd pushed himself that hard, but he'd earned it. He was Puss in Boots after all! "Tell me how much you love this gatito."

Death scoffed, his girthy length dribbling a stream of pre. "Gatito? Not even close!" He fondled the other man's pecs, purposely made bigger than his own for the sole reason of being able to feel that kind of size on someone he wanted to make huge. "Gato for sure."

"Gato grande!" Puss boasted, pushing his chest against the spectre's hand.

"Maybe in your past life," Death leaned in close to the housecat, his muzzle nestled in against an orange-furred trap as he brought his mouth in close to the duelist's ear. "That's not good enough anymore. You're my gato gigantesco."

The canine's words were deliberate, nearly causing Puss' knees to buckle as he gladly accepted the praise. He knew it then and there that the lupine was the only one he'd be willing to get intimate with at his impossible size. It tickled him pink when he felt the other man's snout press into his titanic trap, inhaling his heady scent as freely as one would the air. There was so much of him to love now, and he was more than happy letting the spirit do so.

Death took every opportunity he could to get a whiff of the hypermuscular feline, his nose taking him all over that swollen body. "I love the smell of fear, but the scent of a man?" His voice dripped with ravenous desire. "So much more exhilarating."

"Drink it all up," Puss cooed. "There is much more of me to go around now."

"I intend to." The act of smelling the swordsman didn't just affect Death, but also the shortstack he was in the midst of worshiping. Digging his muzzle between those chest boulders elicited a moan from the pair of them, with the housecat flexing them to almost twice their size. It was something they both wanted. "Only the mightiest of men could turn me on as much as you do. You're special, Puss, you know that?"

"Of course I am. I am Puss in Boots!" The boastfulness Puss expected to portray wavered as the wolf nosed along his impressive bulk. He could understand why when he lifted one of his burly arms, exposing the bushy pit hidden from sight - the aroma wafting from it was absolutely intoxicating and unabashedly masculine, so much stronger than it ever had been in his life.

Inhaling the swordsman's delicious scent had Death raring to go again. He huffed as his libido surged, hornier than he was before now that he had the hottest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on within arm's reach. It led to his hands migrating along the cat's incredible bulk. The sensation of hundreds of pounds of muscle stuffed onto a frame less than half his height had his groping become aggressive, especially when roaming below the belt. He'd grown captivated with the bulging musculature that became the feline's solid ass, huffing when his fingers traced along the dimpled beef that flexed out of instinct. That housecat was literally the perfect recipient for his gift.