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Chilling Out:

A Scene

by Dissident Love

copyright 2017

As always, all the blame for this little fluff piece of nonsense lies at the feet of my muse, Seph. I wrote this in two hours, and there was some tequila involved by the end of it... Happy Friday, everyone!

Summertime on Ilsa Calamata was just slightly different from summertime in the Koots. Despite being located well to the north of the equator, the island chain was undoubtedly tropical, with temperatures in the dead of winter getting all the way down to 'hmmm, I might actually need to wear long sleeves today, it seems a mite brisk'.

Asha walked through the extra-wide door of his apartment, ears drooping, whiskers drooping, tail drooping... really, everything that could droop was doing so, with the notable exception of everything snugly and proudly contained by his carbon-fibre shorts. The heavyset snow leopard had weekly appointments to get an all-over trim, his normally several-inch-thick layer of fluff reduced to a velvety coating that only just barely showed his customary spotted patterns.

In spite of wearing nothing above the waist but a pair of shades and a small black vest, in spite of the constant insulated jug of iced lemonade held in one paw, in spite of the assortment of fans on his desk at work, and even in spite of the extremely un-feline fur styling regimen, the snow leopard thought he might have to start commuting BACK HOME for summer just to avoid heat stroke.

He dropped his satchel on the hook by the door, took a colossal swig from the bendy straw sticking out of the sealed jug, and flicked the bank of switches that activated his Custom Home Environmental Weather System. The good people at CHEWS insisted that his was NOT the most extreme system they'd installed that year even, but it was a substantial enough amount of technology that his power bill was approaching the same cost as his rent, and that was taking into account that the island was supplied by fantastically-cheap offshore tidal power plants.

For several seconds, the spacious ground floor (of course!) apartment was filled with thunking, chunking, rattling, coughing, and the distant sounds of metal baffles scraping open. When he'd first run the system he'd been horrified by the cacophany, but he'd been assured that was ONLY at startup. True enough, before he finished counting to ten, the only sound besides his tongue-lolling panting was a rather soothing 'whoosh', reminding him of the breezes back home.

"Thank you, goddess, for the sin of air conditioning," Asha giggled, straightening his back and taking a huge, satisfied breath.

Asha Kittimat was a burly newcomer to Ilsa Calamata, having been here for a little over three months. He'd arrived mid-spring, when the evening temperatures cooled nicely enough that he could sleep comfortably enough with three fans going, no blankets and every window open. It had only gotten hotter from there, and his CHEWS had been running almost every moment he'd been home after that first month.

He stood a little over six feet tall, with the thick padded shoulders and powerful limbs of an arctic apex predator, even though the most dangerous prey he'd ever stalked had likely been someone else's hamburger when he was in a hungry mood. The little vest, part of his 'island tuxedo' outfit, left nothing to the imagination, and he found that even that wasn't ALWAYS necessary in the middle of summer. Half the people in his office only wore shorts or skirts, and thankfully that seemed to include the ladies. Island paradise, indeed.

His shorts were still, sadly, mandatory. Progressive and forward-thinking through the island might be, primary sexual attributes still required 'a citizen's best possible effort at reasonably covering while in public locations'. He thought that, for hypers, was a little silly; it took more than fourteen yards of fabric to cover his maleness, and one only had to glance at him to imagine pretty much what he looked like naked.

The temperature in his apartment dropped ten degrees almost instantly, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was used to swimming in glacial rivers, used to dashing through the snow with his friends or lovers, used to watching the sun set and the moon rise perched on the edge of some icy crag. The Koots in the middle of summer was still colder than Ilsa Calamata in the middle of winter, so the transition hadn't been seamless.

Enjoyable? Goddess, yes. Easy, no.

Asha walked into his living room which, like most hyper bachelor suites, was 95% of the space of his apartment. There was no bedroom to speak of, since his Island Super King Futon folded out into a bed that he rarely used anyways. All of the furniture was pressed back against the walls, and he'd skipped the television in favor of a projector bolted to the very high ceilings... less issues with breakage.

Fully 'clothed' in his custom shorts, there was no denying his hyper heritage. Cunning straps of hidden ultra-tensile materials kept the undersides of his sac just a few inches off the ground, but that still meant the four-foot seed-tanks rose to the level of his lower ribs. He was considerably wider in that regard than he was tall, and that was with the restraints working full-time with full-coverage. Overtop of those vast spheres was a sheath that seemed disproportionate even considering his terrifying production, thickening rapidly until it was wider than his chest and crammed down the front of his shorts so far it was in danger of passing underneath his balls, which would definitely leave him high-centered.

"Home at last, home at last," he murmured, his breath already forming little puffs in the air. Goddess bless the good people at CHEWS, he thought, unbuttoning his shorts and letting the twin sail-like flaps of smart fabric recoil into a little pile around his ankles. His sac struck the hardwood floors with twin thuds that rattled the dishes and cutlery in his kitchen, but that was a common sound in a building designed for hypers.

It had been a long week. Work had piled up with all of the new construction in Ilsa Calamata. His flirting with Doreene the secretary had reached new levels, and the pair might have a date the following week. This luckily wouldn't interfere with the possibly-date that Asha might also have with Stuart, one of the engineering interns, a cute tiny-waisted buck who somehow managed to gently slap the snow leopard's bulge with his tail at least once per day. The weather had wrung the energy out of his body, and he had barely any time to blow off some steam.

But tonight, he was going to relax, or die trying.

"Hopefully it doesn't come to that," Asha rumbled, flexing his fingers and digging them into the base of his sheath, working away at the tension that always seemed to form there. His fat, overly-long snow-mew tail lashed back and forth, and a little moan escaped his lips when his sheath, already far too large for any two-footed anthro, seemed to bloat as though connected to some hidden firehose. In moments it had thickened to the width of his considerable shoulders, hidden flesh surging forth and straining at the cuff of his sheath until it succeeded in pushing beyond his balls to touch the floor on the far side.

"Ooooh, I'm sorry," he mewled, swinging his legs around to position his balls behind him, his sheath resting fully on the ground like some sort of avant-garde overstuffed couch. "You fellas haven't gotten any loving lately. Well, don't worry... you'll LOVE Doreene. You might love Stuart, too, but, well... tight is tight, but that's a butt you could use to flatten pennies."

His sheath reacted instantly, straightening as though the pressure within had reached some sort of critical level. Creaking, tortured-rubber sounds filled the apartment as thin skin was pulled tighter than mere mortal flesh had any right to be, but still his cuff fought to keep him contained. Six feet tall if he was an inch, and right now there was more than ten feet of twitching, quivering stormy-grey fur forcing his thighs apart and causing his eyes to roll back from the mixture of discomfort and soul-burning ecstasy.

But hyper genes would not be stopped by mere physics. With a groan that started high enough to shatter crystal and dropped until it sounded like an avalanche he'd witnessed as a kitten, the distant cuff yawned open and retracted. For every foot it was dragged reluctantly backwards, two feet of pale pink kittyflesh ploughed forwards, plumping somehow thicker than the sheath that had so recently contained it.

Not for the first time, he wondered if scientists would ever figure out how he managed to do that.

"F-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-u-u-u-u-u-u..." he growled through clenched teeth, leaning forwards over the base of his shrinking sheath, more holding on for dear life than massaging his own arousal. The hefty snow mew rose to his tip-toes as the bulk between his legs kept on growing. His tail was pushed up by his sac, filling up alarmingly fast after a long, repressed week.

He clenched internal muscles, grinding his hips against... well, himself. His paws worked their way forwards, his claws hardly sinking into the overstressed fuzz, and his shoulders flexed mightily as he fought to fully drop. His growth had been uneven over the years, and there was far more of him lurking in his sheath than even the most size-friendly admirer had ever suspected.

With one final thrust, he collapsed back against his balls, each now larger than he was tall, or would have been had his toes been able to reach the rich mahogany flooring anymore. Tiny motes of ice drifted through the air, settling onto his exposed flesh and melting instantly, giving his fully exposed kittyhood a glistening sheen. "...u-u-u-uck," he finished, panting and giggling.

Asha was a sturdy six-foot snow leopard, born and raised in the chilly Koots mountains, and was now sprawled out comfortably on more than twenty feet of deliciously soft, sensitive pale pink cock. The distant tip twitched and fluttered, pushed well past the end of his futon but still only halfway to the floor-to-ceiling cathedral windows and their view of the Calamatan sunset. He laced his fingers behind his inky black mane and reclined against his balls, enjoying the way they seemed to jostle and churn, soothing his tight back muscles.

Once the CHEWS had gotten the temperature inside his apartment down to the same temperature as his refrigerator, he yawned comfortably and fumbled around in the little fanny pack that he always wore. As a hyper, his phone was more than just a communications device... it was an essential, nay, life-saving device. With a few taps on the brightly-lit screen, an extra-large Tropical Fiesta Deep Dish Pizza was ordered, and would be on his doorstep in twenty minutes or less.

A few more taps and the projector flickered on, presenting him with the evening Calamatan news. Since this was public television, the news anchors were wearing smart and sensible gender-neutral suits, but since it was Ilsa Calamata, the suits were brightly colored and strained heroically around the sorts of curves that even mainland niche fetish porn rarely approached. He admired the phenomenally buxom panda co-anchor, enjoying the way only her eyes and hands were visible around the bustline of her outfit.

He was hunkering down now, preparing to hunt through his movie queue and find something to best accompany pizza, when his phone lit up one more time, and for once it was actually a phone call.

"Hello?" he yawned, brushing a thin layer of frost from the screen. "Jay? What's up?"

~ Dude, are you coming? ~

Asha blinked, glancing down the length of his flaccid maleness. "Coming?" he asked dryly.

~ Dude, the poker tournament. You paid up on Monday. ~

The snow leopard winced and smacked his forehead. "Aahhhh, crap! I... yeah, I did, that... that was tonight?"

~ That was tonight, and Doreene is already asking about you! So is one of the interns, but who listens to them, am I right? ~

"Yeah, I... look, I already ordered a pizza, so I'll be down there when I can, OK? I just got home, I'm sacked..."

~ No problem, no problem, we'll be here until midnight. I just need to make sure you show up! You always get the admin ladies in the mood to go home with someone, and they can't ALL go home with you, am I right? ~

"You are right," Asha chuckled. "OK, tell them I'll be there."

~ Boom! Thanks, newbie! ~

Asha rolled his eyes and tucked the phone away, wondering if he was EVER going to finish his queue. Still, it was a Friday night, and he really didn't want to be the sort of Calamatan who stayed at home on party nights, eating pizza in the dark on top of his vastly over-developed cock.

From the fanny pack, he then removed a tiny bottle of Hy-Per Lube, and flexed his fingers eagerly.

"All right, fellas," he leered to no-one. "Who thinks we can beat the pizza guy here?"