Close Quarters
The train to O-town was a chore for someone my size to ride. Granted, most transportation was more trouble than it was worth these days, but sometimes you just have to be there.
They'd assigned me to a slightly-more-capacious room built for people with alternative needs; even so, both sides of my belly pressed against the walls of the hallway that led to it as I squeezed my way along, head lowered so as not to bump the ceiling.
I hadn't always been this big of a gator. Up till my teens, I'd been the same size as everyone else. But when everyone else's growth spurts ended, mine never did. It was only a couple of inches a year--despite my nickname, I won't be able to rampage Tokyo anytime soon--but over time it adds up; I was coming up on nine and a half feet tall as I reached the end of middle age, not counting my tail at all.
(The doctors keep trying to tell me the fat isn't related and that I should slim down, but hey, a growing body needs its nutrients.)
The room was big enough but still small; I knew better than to trust the furniture so sat myself down along the far wall, curling my tail up over me and trying not to feel childish as I did so.
And then I found out I wasn't even getting the room to myself.
The bear at the door seemed to be just as irritated as I was at having to share the space. "Seriously?" he growled. "May as well have them throw me in the back of a fucking pickup truck next time."
I would have been surprised to see him fitting into a flatbed, actually; the girth of his belly was big enough to register as huge even by my standards. And that wasn't even the first thing that stood out.
He stank.
You might think that saying I could smell him from across the room would be enough, but it was more than that. The smell of him came at you in waves: the smell of a male who'd been exerting himself, rank and a little unpleasant; the smell of sweat itself, sharp and salty; the scent of the filth of work that clung to him, a mix of sawdust and machine oil and corrugated cardboard; a mostly-dissipated scent of sexual arousal, redolent of whatever guy's hole he'd unloaded it into, to say nothing of the foul aroma of a bear who was too big, surely, to wipe his own ass...
He was watching me with a smug expression that was almost a smile. "You look like you're about to say something," he said.
In better circumstances I might've taken an interest, but feeling cramped made me grouchy. I shook my head and he squeezed into the room, taking a seat on the opposite wall. His feet pressed against mine and his belly pushed my tail up closer, obscuring my view of his face.
It wasn't comfortable, not in the least. "This isn't going to work," I said. "Not for seven hours."
"I might be able to do something about that," he said.
He reached out an arm and slapped his paw on one of the oversized-but-still-too-small chairs.
There was a glow of amber light, a sound like a small chime, and the chair started shrinking--started changing shape. In a matter of seconds, nothing remained but what appeared to be an ordinary package of sandwich cookies.
"I was getting hungry anyway," the bear said, picking up the snack and sliding into the space the chair had occupied. We were still pressed together footpaw-to-footpaw as the train got underway, but at least we weren't so cramped.
I settled in and tried to pass the time with some sleep, but there was too much in the way of distraction--the bear may have been trying to munch quietly at his cookies, but in the small space the noise was still an annoyance that somehow managed to overpower the steady clack-clack of the train.
And there was still no avoiding the bear's pervasive, multiplying smells. As he moved his paws, there was no mistaking the heady scent of a larger male's fat, the intense musk coming off his underarms, the sugar-laden puffs of his breath...
I crossed my arms and buried my snout, hoping to suppress the odors.
There was another sound like a small chime.
I looked up in time to watch the other seat's conversion into a foot-long sandwich, which the bear swallowed down in short order.
"Sorry," he said. "Going to be a long trip."
I let myself stretch out into the newly-opened space. We're not even ten minutes in and he's already eaten all the furniture. And it is going to be a long trip... "Erh...you don't use that trick on people, do you?"
The bear looked away.
His stomach rumbled.
I shrank back into the corner opposite him. I couldn't afford to be sent back to my save point, but feared it was now rather likely to happen.
"Hey," he said, "it's not like I'm gonna..."
His stomach rumbled louder.
"I mean, it's not like I wanna..."
He clutched at his gut.
"I..."
Big guys like us can move fast when we want to. You might think we're lazy for not exerting ourselves much, but getting fat is literally storing up that energy for future emergencies.
The bear lunged at me, and I tried to roll out of the way but there just wasn't room to get far. His gut pinned me down and I kicked him back, but he grabbed my legs with a flash of amber light.
I had a sickening moment of feeling like bacon before I was able to pull my legs from his grasp. Okay, not an insta-kill, that's comforting anyway.
I knew what had to happen. I couldn't ward the guy off for seven hours--I had to take him down myself.
But I didn't even get a chance to make a move in his direction before he was straddling me, and even though the size of his gut meant he couldn't touch me from where he was, my snout between his legs was subjected to the bear's multiplied scent: the musk of his arousal resonated in my nostrils.
Unmistakably, the struggle was turning him on.
My resistance faltered. Forget the fact that I couldn't shift what must have been eight hundred pounds of bear off me if I'd tried--I just half didn't want to anymore. The musk of his sex, the musk of his sex, the musk--
I felt drugged by it. My traitorous dick was stiff in my pants and I'm sure I was leaking at the thought of--of being--
I had trouble remembering why I was trying to fight him off. He smelled so good. Some distant corner of my brain was trying to come up with nonsense about him trying to turn me into a pineapple pizza, as if there could ever be anyone so monstrous.
Leaning forward into that irresistible cloud of male scent, I nuzzled the bulge in his pants and gave it a soft lick. Surely he'd share it with me?
I remembered there was no way such a big bear would be able to undo those pants on his own, so I carefully started nosing open the button and pulling the zipper down with my teeth.
My efforts were rewarded with a massive fatpad covered in brown fur spilling out over my muzzle.
I rooted around in the softness of his flab till I found the much firmer stub of his cock, which radiated layers and layers of accumulated musk. As soon as I was able to get my mouth around it, the big bear started grinding it into me.
Even though he didn't have a lot of cock to work with, his body sliding over mine as he moved was a full-body massage in itself--his hanging belly on my snout, fatty thighs framing my face, and colossal ass working over my chest and gut; grinding against my underbelly, I couldn't have been harder.
The bear growled deep, leaning back and resting his paws on my legs, and my brain nagged at me to remember something important. Was that a noise like a small chime I heard, filtered through the fat that surrounded me, half drowned out by the noises of the train?
The big bear's heavy breathing got louder as he started blasting into me without warning--a heavy rush of cum flooded my throat, making me gag a moment before somehow my throat opened up altogether.
There was no swallowing anymore, just a flow of creamy seed, and my lips refused to respond altogether as the bear unloaded his cock into me.
And then it wasn't just my mouth, wasn't just my throat--I couldn't move anything at all. And even though the bear's back was still arched with the rigor of climax, I felt my scales sliding against his fur as my body was pulled in, reforming me into whatever he was hungry for. I felt his fur against my bare torso as my limbs disappeared, felt my cock merge back into my body, felt the constant pulse of cum filling me...until finally it was harder and harder to feel anything at all.
The bear rolled onto his back after his orgasm ended, too exhausted from the effort to even stay upright. He let his fatigue overpower his hunger and let the train rock him to sleep, his rumbling snores soon joining its eternal rush over the tracks.
He didn't wake till the train pulled in at the final station and an attendant came in to help him out. He grumbled at being awoken but sat up, grabbed the gallon of milk that he found between his legs, and started gulping it noisily as he squeezed his way down the narrow hallway out to the platform.
It was a little stale from sitting between the warmth of his thighs for a few hours, but he didn't get to be as big as he had by letting food go to waste.
By the time he got his luggage, the whole gallon was already gone.