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Chris had just arrived home after a particularly exhausting day at work and was relieved that he could finally relax. Truthfully, that could've been accomplished at any point during the day seeing as how he was his own boss, but as a budding entrepreneur he knew he had to put in the labour if his work were to bear any fruit.

An inventor by trade and a physicist by nature, the gray-and-white-furred yordle possessed a stunning intellect that he was keen on showing off when prompted. What truly separated him from the rest of the yordlefolk was his innate ability to create portals to other universes. It was a latent power, only manifesting in his adolescence, as well as one used sparingly as using it drained him of his energy like no device he had ever come across. This is why he spent his working time creating some kind of portable apparatus he could use instead. It was a bit of a passion project for him.

He called it his best-kept secret, to the point where the few other yordles he called his friends didn't know what his true potential was. He wouldn't bring it out for anyone, not even as a party trick. This was something he was going to take to his grave.

The discovery of his capability was a complete accident, but one that Chris was eager to explore. His only issue was that universe he stumbled upon ended up being cold, empty, and lifeless. The dread he sensed from these unknown places coupled with how exhausted he felt by the time he returned only cemented the idea in the young yordle's mind that whatever promising findings he would uncover wasn't worth the stress he was putting himself through.

Eventually he got a bit older, grew a bit bolder, and dared himself to give universe hopping another go. Fascinatingly to him, the locations he found this time around, while practically just as empty, were far more colourful. While there wasn't any fauna, there was flora as far as the eye could see. He wondered what changed the outcome of his travels this time and could only fathom that he was more in-tune with the deep-seated magic ingrained in every yordle. The only issue was that he still couldn't stick around for very long to truly attempt to research anything. Still, progress was progress.

It was during one of these visits where he felt a bit... off. The gray-and-white-furred yordle couldn't explain what was bothering him. Perhaps it was something in the air he was breathing, or maybe some microbial force waging war on his body, or even some element unknown to Runeterrans affecting him on a molecular level. Whatever it was, he needed to leave right away. Safely making his way back home, he collapsed onto the floor and promptly passed out.

That specific excursion would irrevocably change his life, for better and for worse.

Over the course of the following month, Chris noticed something peculiar pertaining to his body. Despite never being the athletic type, it looked as though he had been active his entire life. Patches of fat that had deposited on his body vanished in an astonishingly short amount of time. Of course, it attracted the attention of his kin. He had people asking him what his secret was, prompting him to make up something on the spot as even he had no clue. It made him happy that each of them bought it and left it at that. All the recognition he was achieving was flustering him anyway.

In an effort to hide from the spotlight suddenly thrust upon him, the yordle moved his base of operations to a charming, picturesque shop in Piltover, away most of his kind. He devoted all his free time to working on his project, hoping one day he could actually research the alien worlds he stumbled across. Even though the portal generator was still his main priority, he would try to design and implement other ideas he had to bolster his portfolio.

During the next couple weeks he noticed his body going through even more changes. Where he once could have been described as fit, he now resembled someone who had spent a lifetime doing manual labour. The slow transformation he witnessed before his very eyes certainly startled him, but he couldn't deny how much more confident he felt. What exactly was happening to him still lingered in the back of his mind, but he was sure he'd figure out the answer one day.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years, and yet Chris was still no closer to solving his dilemma. What he did observe, however, was that his tiny problem was tiny no longer.

The yordle had grown massive. He was still roughly the same height as the rest of the yordlefolk, which he was thankful for as he couldn't afford outgrowing his workspace, but more than made up for it by being wider than anyone else around him. It took him a ton of effort to adapt to his colossal size. From giving himself a wide berth when turning around, to having to walk sideways through aisles at the market, the adjustments to his everyday life were a little bit frustrating to remember at first but ultimately doable with practice.

Of course, he had to glamour himself to conceal his identity as he did his errands as there wasn't any possible reason that he wanted the humans around him to know what he looked like. He did find it rather amusing, though, whenever one of them bumped into him. The sheer surprise on their face when they felt like they walked into a ton of tightly compressed bricks instead of the diminutive person he resembled entertained him every time it happened.

He dropped the act in front of his own kind, naturally, as they can see right through the magic that camouflaged his true identity, one that garnered mixed reception among the others. Indeed, there were some who laid their eyes upon him and were disgusted at what they perceived to be a grotesque aberration and an affront to nature.

At the same time, there were others who took one good, long look at him and were instantly entranced by his hypertrophic physique. The deals he was able to haggle with people just by permitting them to caress one of his monstrous biceps allowed him to stay financially afloat while he was still in the phase of developing wares to provide to the public.

And if he realized a merchant was trying to swindle him? All he would have to do was just narrow his eyes at the other yordle down his glasses and breath heavily through his nose. His hands would be on his hips, obviously, as he long ago lost the ability to cross his beefy arms along his gigantic barrel chest. The sellers he dealt with were tricky creatures, but as crafty as they were, not even they could tell that the gray-and-white-furred yordle really knew how to or possessed the will to fight. There was never a need to do so as they all eventually relented anyway. He could keep this bluff up forever if he had to.

Many of his kind also wondered why he had what sounded like a human name. The only answer he gave was that it was the one he was given at birth. He liked it and was keeping it. Nuts to everyone else.

There was a surprisingly large number of perks to being this, well, large.

For starters, Chris commanded respect from his peers whenever he made his presence known. It was funny to him as these were people who didn't expect very much of him when he begun working and only thought they would think less of him after seeing him grow over the course of several years. To know that his size made him more esteemed in their eyes thrilled him to no end.

His work also benefitted greatly from his increased stature. Where he once needed special machinery to affix certain mechanical parts together, he now only needed the simple tools he had used for years and good old fashioned elbow grease. He was overjoyed as it simultaneously cut down on costs and time needed to complete his projects.

Without a shadow of a doubt, his favourite aspect of the overwhelming expansion of his body was the size itself. While alarming at first, the yordle gradually grew to love the bulk that piled onto his frame. He relished in thinking of all the different words to describe himself - 'gargantuan', 'dense', 'heavy'... the list could go on and on forever! His bull-like neck, his arms comparable to steel cables, his tree trunk legs - he loved each and every part of himself.

In an effort to cram as much muscle onto such a tiny person, his abdomen had undergone its own transformation. What was once a flat tummy had gone and reconstructed itself into a tremendous abgut. The immense tortoise shell of muscle pooched out far from his torso, and while the sight of it worried him at first, he soon grew to adore it as he realized he took up even more space with it. It rapidly became one of his most beloved features.

Then there were all the ancillary traits that came along with all the beef. Chris had gotten considerably hairier over the course of the last few years, gaining a carpet down his torso, ample bushes around his pits and crotch, as well as his fur itself getting coarser.

He would also be in remiss if he failed to mention the more distinctly masculine musk emanating from his body. Should he one day come home with another guy, he was certain they would be drawn to the heady, pheromonal scent he gave off.

Easily, the thing he was most proud about himself was his prodigious prick, a monolithic spire of yordle virility. Hanging below his mammothian crotch rocket was a pair of pendulous testicles that rivalled the size of a demigod's. Many a night were spent draining his cum tanks, painting the walls of his house a creamy white. Sure, cleaning the room he jizzed all over was a bit of a tedious slog, but it was well worth the feeling of relief he got when he finally emptied his balls. He got exceptionally pent up over the course of a workday.

Being that humungous didn't just only have upsides, however.

The first thing he noticed was that his frame, which was forced to widen to accommodate all the delicious bulk he currently sported, started having trouble fitting through doorways. He could mitigate the problem by entering through them sideways, but that solution didn't last long due to his pecs taking up more and more room.

It was in his home where Chris first noticed the problem as the passages there were the narrowest that he encountered regularly. To alleviate this, he had to relocate to a place built from the ground up, one which was made with his evergrowing body in mind. Every hallway could fit multiple yordles his size without any of them touching. Every room was spacious enough that he could only outgrow them in his dreams. Every doorway a wide, open passage for him to walk through, save for the front entrance which boasted the largest door yordlekind had ever seen.

Then there was his lab. It thankfully only had the one door that needed replacing, but not before the frame it rested in got renovated to fit the gray-and-white-furred yordle's body. He was also fortunate that, despite his overwhelming musculature, he was nevertheless dextrous enough to continue working on his inventions without impedance.

There was also the matter of his furniture and how all of it creaked louder and louder as he grew larger. Whether it was his long-suffering bed that begun to sag in the middle, his couch which buckled no matter where he sat his maximal glutes on it, or even the kitchen chair that he ate his meals on. That last one gave him the biggest fright, as he heard it crack one day while eating dinner. It was at that point that he started reinforcing everything meant to bear his weight with the strongest thing he could possibly afford in bulk - steel bars, which he fastened himself. It was only a temporary solution, but it would have to do for now.

And then there was his clothes. Practically his entire wardrobe had become unwearable after a while due to the yordle's natural propensity for muscle growth. The only garments he had left were his toque, which he never went without, and his drawer of speedos, though at this point all his underwear left nothing to the imagination and he figured he might as well go without. He was liable to burst out of them one day anyway.

Finally, there was the issue of food. Chris prided himself on the meals he prepared every day; he picked up recipes wherever he could, attempting different cuisines he wasn't already intimately familiar with. The effort he put into cooking was well worth it, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that these feasts he made for himself weren't going to be sufficient anymore. He had to turn to the world of meal supplements to meet his caloric and nutrient needs and boy did he hate it.

Some of the ones the yordle tried were incredibly chalky, some were thick like molasses, and some were so sickeningly sweet that he had to choke down the vile mixture as quickly as he could just to prevent it from coming back up. It got him riled up to the point where he contemplated making his own supps, maybe even meal replacements altogether. The only issue is that he would have to find someone proficient in chemistry and biology to make that dream a reality. A project for another time, he supposed.

All the stresses and changes he had endured made coming home one of the highlights of his day. He still loved the work he did and was certain that his inventions would serve his future customers well, but he couldn't deny that the carnal pleasure of busting a fat nut in the comfort of his own place felt goddamn amazing.

The thought of somehow profiting off his play to fund his work popped into his head on more than one occasion. It was such a bizarre sentiment that he barely paid it any mind. After all, could such a thing even be possible? How would he even accomplish that?

That's where his most recent purchase came into play. Chris had gone and procured himself a milker not unlike ones used for farm animals, though he had heavily modified this one since. To begin with, there was only one suction device securely mounted onto the machine, but it was enormous. There was literally only one thing that could possibly fit in there. Secondly, there was only one fluid receptacle, but it, too, was significantly bigger than what was normally available. It might seem like an excessive setup to an outsider, but for the gray-and-white-furred yordle it was totally necessary. Why?

Because giant canisters of his potent yordlebatter commanded high prices among his colleagues.

This was a surprisingly lucrative business venture he stumbled into. He had found that a few of his fellow yordles, upon seeing the vastness of his frame, were willing to pay top dollar for however much of his rich, creamy seed they could get their grubby little mitts on. For some reason. He wasn't exactly sure why it immediately became such a hot commodity overnight, but he wasn't about to complain.

Word then got out soon after that and he suddenly had far more suspiciously wealthy customers than he knew what to do with, not that any of them would ever admitting to making such a purchase from him.

It wasn't as if these were back-alley dealings in the dead of night in a shady part of the city either. Chris was very open about his new enterprise, in fact, and gladly answered any and all questions about it to those who were interested. But to hear a peep from one of his patrons? Fat chance. It would never happen, and he believed it be due to the nature of what they had planned to do with their acquisition.

The gray-and-white-furred yordle had collected litres upon litres of his spunk since installing the milker and had basically sold all of it almost right away. It begged the question as to how someone could honestly explain what they intended to do with a bathtub full of the stuff. Actually, that kind of answered itself now that he thought about it.

It was Chris' new nightly ritual - come home from work, wolf down something he cooked, and then let the milking machine suck him as dry as only it could. Some days he needed to provide some relief to his aching balls by blowing a load right into the machinery before even getting anywhere near his kitchen. Those were days where another yordle made a pass at him and he did everything in his power to hold himself together, so he didn't flood his workshop.

He was surprised at how insanely profitable it was, but he wasn't about to switch gears and make this his primary focus. This was purely intended to fill out his coffers so that he didn't have to worry about any money issues in the future.

Tonight, thankfully, he made sure to eat as he unwisely decided to skip lunch earlier. With purpose in his strides he made his way to his prized milker, already drooling small rivulets of precum from the tip of his cock. He let out a satisfied groan when he slid his ginormous dick into the well-lubricated suction mechanism. Time to begin the transfer.

The machinery whirred to life as the yordle flicked the power switch to its upright position. It instantly elicited a needy moan from him, suckling his hardening shaft. He reached up and pulled off the toque he normally wore out of the house and tossed it to the ground before running his hands through his fluffy headfur. Audibly sucking air through his teeth, he let his fingers tangle in the strands of hair and gently tugged on them, as if mimicking the sensation he felt downstairs.

When he felt like he mussed up his hair enough, he migrated his hands further south. A quick flick of his head practically reset the position of his mane, allowing his parted hair to drape back down over his left eye. He let his digits caress his thick, meaty traps before slowly moving down his impossibly stuffed chest.

His heavily packed pectorals flexed involuntarily upon being touched, heaving with every deep breath he took. They felt as hard as diamonds and were probably nearly as compacted. The yordle groped past his pec shelf until he reached his intended destination - his fat nipples. He took one nub and each hand and gently twisted.

Chris lasciviously gasped from the intense manual stimulation. His hips bucked in an uncontrolled manner, one he had to tame quickly. There was one incident he had where he let himself get far too into getting sucked off by the milking machine and he, for all intents and purposes, began fucking it like it was his lover. The combination of being pounded by that monstrous crotch rocket and getting flooded with untold litres of jizz shut down the device. He spent the rest of the night getting it up and running again, vowing never to make that mistake again.

The gray-and-white-furred yordle allowed his titanic cum tanks to carefully slap against the milker in a way that wouldn't interfere with the apparatus' progress. He made a mental note to get some sort of holster attachment that could hold his balls so that they didn't swing in the open air.

The pressure against his taint steadily increased over time, he knew that he was finally getting to the point where he would blow his load. He had to grab hold of the machinery to stabilize himself because he'd end up breaking it again if he didn't. Gritting his teeth, he snorted hard as his eyes screwed shut. His breathing became frenzied when the pre-programmed motion of the suction device brought him closer and closer to the edge. That's when he got pushed over.

The yordle howled loudly as the floodgates opened up, his massive tool shooting rope after hot, sticky rope into the collection mechanism. The canister secured into the machine began rapidly filling up with yordlebatter, the thick, off-white fluid taking up more and more space.

He made sure that the receptacle was on tight as one time it slipped out of its holder and all his spunk drenched the area around the milker. It took him a while to get the spill cleaned up, so now he double checks that the container is fastened properly.

He pressed his pelvis flush with the opening on the machine, allowing the suction mechanism to fully massage his girthy length. Needy whines escaped his throat due to the pleasure of his testicles emptying.

Chris was left labouriously panting by the time he had nothing left to give. He'd since doubled over on top of the machine, head resting against its metal face. His hefty chest heaved with every gasping wheeze while his heart palpitated from the exertion. These sessions did take a lot out of him, but he wanted to make it count as this was a product he was selling.

Wiping his sweat-matted brow with a meaty forearm, the yordle gathered the strength to push himself upright. A few deep breaths was all it took to bring his respiring back down to a more normal level. Once stabilized, he pulled his fat cock free of the suctioned sheath, his meat tube coming free with an audible squelch. He gave his length a quick rubdown, chuckling at the fact that he was still sensitive to his touch despite just going through all that.

Making his way around the milker, he glanced at the receptacle to see his yield. Nearly full, exactly where he was aiming. He wagered he might be one of the most productive beings in all of Runeterrra. Sure, there were creatures like minotaurs who could beat him in sheer volume, but the fact that he could output more than a human could in the same period of time was more than enough to keep him happy. He was a young, virile yordle man and he was damn proud of it.

The gray-and-white-furred yordle twisted the canister out of its socket, careful not to spill any of the produce while he was sealing off the open end. With that, he made his way to the storeroom where he kept the other containers like the one in his hands.

The custom-built storage room was lined wall-to-wall with identical canisters, only almost all of them were empty. Chris realized that he may have jumped the gun by making such a large bulk purchase like this, but he never in a million years would've expected such a viscerally positive reception to this specific kind of good being sold. Stepping inside the room, he placed the canister in the spot it belonged in. He glanced around the room and noted just how many of them he'd pumped full of yordleseed not too long ago. There'd always end up being some surplus built up, but then his entire stock would dwindle to nothing in no time flat. It unnerved him a little to see how quickly he sold his wares.

Grabbing the next container in line, he closed the door to the storeroom and ambled back to the milker. He affixed it into its chamber and securely fastened it in place. Patting the top of the machine like he always did when he was done, he sighed - something was niggling at him.

For whatever reason he didn't feel like he was fully done yet, like he half-assed his job even though he hadn't. He already succeeded in accomplishing what he set out to do, sure, but he still felt unsatisfied. It could be sensed deep in his loins - he had another round left in him. One benefit of his size that he realized over time was that downtime was growing to be a thing of the past. Indeed, he'd be getting a twofer tonight!

The yordle shrugged and began walking over to the still-slicked suction mechanism before stopping himself. No, he deserved a break from work for the moment, this will be all for his pleasure. He turned around and made his way into a nearby room, one where the floor was completely matted with a huge drain in the middle. This room was constructed for the sole purpose of beating his meat without having to clean up after the fact. As much as he loved being able to do it in his bed, he had ruined one too many mattresses and wanted to save himself the hassle.

Chris made his way into the room, feeling the soft, yet firm padding the floor was made of with his bare feet. Having a look around, he realized this might be a big enough place to test various experiments should he bring them home one day.

He decided that he might as well not waste any more time and get right into it, only to find that his hand had beat him to the punch and started stroking his shaft on its own. Now aware of what he was doing, he brought his other hand over and made it work in tandem, rubbing along his dick with both hands. A shiver ripped up his spine due to the sensitivity of his cockflesh. It might be a bit vain of him, but he couldn't help but have a little bit of pride welling up inside him knowing that it took two hands to be able to jerk him off properly.

Just then, he felt a jolt of euphoria rocket through him causing his legs to buckle, dropping him to his knees. He grunted, picking up the pace. The gray-and-white-furred yordle bucked his hips in rhythm with his hands' movement in an attempt to reach orgasm faster. His hands, completely slicked with pre, could go from tip to base in no time flat now.

His entire body was in flexion, tense from the intoxicating sensation. Veins snaked across his titanic frame like the world's most surrealistic roadmap, allowing his muscles to engorge with blood to keep up with the strenuous activity. A lascivious moan involuntarily left his mouth as he felt his boulder-like biceps continuously brush up against his enormous pecs. He was delirious with lust but wasn't about to stop any time soon.

The pressure on his taint ramped up the longer he worked at his tool. He snarled, lost in his in carnal act. His mind was focused solely on one thing - getting off as soon as yordley possible.

The yordle pumped his thick log of yordle fuckmeat with all his might, knowing release was right around the corner. His bloated balls were absolutely roiling with seed, waiting for the moment when they could fire off. At this point he was half engaged in masturbation, half fucking his hands. The tension in his groin was growing rapidly with nowhere to dissipate the strain, not dissimilar to a shaken pop bottle. He could feel his hands reflexively slowing their tempo, meaning he was close. Just a few more thrusts...

Chris cried out in ecstasy, his colossal cock geysering out creamy yordlebatter by the bucketload. The far wall was getting positively painted in seed despite being several meters away from the giant furball. It was a seemingly never-ending stream of jizz blasting from his prick, each glob practically the same size as the one preceding it.

Eventually the flow did die down, with the yordle just about ready to collapse from all the exertion. He was bent over, hands shakily resting on his meaty thighs as he huffed. His planetary chest heaved strenuously with every breath he took. His dirty-blonde hair had spread out to cover both of his eyes, not that he paid that any mind - he was too busy trying to not let them close from exhaustion.

Being in this state was always an oddity he couldn't really describe. On one hand, he felt weaker than a newborn kitten as he could barely stay upright. On the other hand, the adrenaline coursing through his body kept him acutely aware of himself and just how ungodly thick he really was. He'd be surprised if that much exercise didn't make him put on a couple more pounds.

It was clear that he was losing the battle in preventing his eyes from closing on their own and that he needed to hit the hay right away. At the same time, he really should make sure his seed gets properly disposed of down the drain.

Ah, he'd worry about cleanup in the morning. Now it was time for sleep.