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Amber's 69 First Dates

Pretty In Pink

-

by DissidentLove

Dear Diary

Love's first taste was bittersweet... damn, what song was that from? Some country song... ah, whatever. Last week, Stu asked me out. You remember Stu, Dear Diary... the hunky football stud. Seriously a stud, he was a BIG equine fellow. I thought he asked me out in spite of the girls, but I guess he asked me out BECAUSE of the girls!

We went to his place after school. I told my rents I was going to Cindy's to study, when in reality I was boning up on a little biology. OhmyGod, I seriously thought we were just gonna kiss for a bit, and then he says he has to have a shower because he smells from football practice. Then he asks if I wanna join him! I thought dating went slower than that, but... nope!

God damn, he was HAWT naked, you have NO idea. I think he was really hung, too, but I can't really tell... he's the first boy I've seen naked, and I was still a lot bigger than he was. We got into the shower, and we kissed some more, and one thing led to another...

And I learned something about the girls. When it's just me and them, I grow a little, but not too much, right? Just a little, and usually it's nothing the shower drain can't handle, but inside Stu (which was just about the hottest and sexiest thing I've ever felt IN MY FUCKING LIFE) the growing didn't stop. When I came, the growing just SPED UP! My hormones are out to sabotage my life, Dear Diary.

I don't know if I'll ever get to do that again. Stu's one of the biggest guys in school, and... well, he was in the hospital for three days. He's fine, Dear Diary, don't worry. He's got some bandages, and a limp, and I thought his mom was gonna KILL me, but he says it's ok. Apparently the doctors had to sedate him at the hospital because he kept giggling. Stu said it was amazing, and he'd not have missed it for the world... but he doesn't think we're right for eachother.

If the biggest boy in school isn't big enough for me... what can I do?

Amber sighed, letting go of the little pink pen. It swung on its little pink chain from her little pink diary, and she read back through the two pages she had filled. She lay on her back amidst a fruited plain of pink duvet and pink pillows. In fact, there were very few things in the room that weren't some shade of pink, or adorned with flowers or unicorns.

She held the little book above her head, checking the pink ink for any spelling mistakes... but nope. It was all good. And all bad. And all true. She nibbled her lower lip, and sighed again. She arched her back, tufted tail twitching between her legs, claws briefly extending, and yawned. It was nearly midnight, and she'd been avoiding writing in her diary ever since the Incident, as she had come to call it.

Stu really was fine. He caught up on his homework at the hospital, and the docs said he'd be all right. 'Sexual Overexertion' was the diagnosis, and the doctor said it wasn't even the worst case he'd ever seen, but he WAS impressed that the person on the giving end had been only five-foot-one.

She looked over at her pink dresser, and knew that hidden inside the sock drawer was a little orange pill bottle with little green pills in it. It might be her only choice, she knew... she couldn't go her whole life alone, and she couldn't 'test drive' every single boy she liked. Hell, she'd been somewhat shunned by the male population of the school ever since the Incident. And the female population. And some of her teachers.

One gold-and-cream paw slid down her black tank top, feeling the full but not outlandish curves beneath. She wondered if her condition might not seem to bad if she had been busty enough to match her sizes below, but she doubted she'd even be able to walk with THAT much weight up front, without lead tailweights. The paw trailed farther down, along her fuzzy exposed midriff, to the deep red waistband of her panties.

Whenever she was out, either at school or with friends or with her parents, she had to wear her support hose, special undergarments designed to minimize her growing assets ('the girls', as she called them), and keep them from moving around too much. They weren't very comfortable, but they did keep everything in place and kept the bulges from being TOO obscene. In private, though, she nearly always enjoyed the feel of her... less functional items. Currently, she was wearing a pair of deep maroon fishnet panties, made of some sort of cotton/lycra blend, that were woefully not up to the task of keeping her covered.

Stretched as ridiculously tight as they were, they more resembled a bikini bottom when seen from the back; her creamy, fuzzy sac squeezing out the sides like a pair of volleyballs, while her nearly thigh-thick sheath was trying its hardest to tear the resilient fabric. It felt a good deal less comfortable than the support undergarments, but one glance down and she knew she much preferred how these ones looked. Her fingertips walked along the barely-concealed sheath, little electric tickles filling her mind. She brought her splayed legs together, which pushed her silky sac up higher, lifting the whole mass into the air, blocking out her view of her tail and her toes.

"Someday," she said softly, feeling her sheath bulge slightly with desire. "Someday I'll find the right boy for you."

---

She doubted it would be this day, though. Her eyes were half-lidded and slightly bloodshot, and she'd walked zombielike for the first few periods of class. She had been up far too late the previous night, penning her exploits, and it had left her in what could best be described as a 'frisky mood'. She'd tried to sleep, but snuggled into her pink blankets with all the lights out she was all-too-aware of the creaking, anxious pressure that built in her nethers. When she realized she was going to keep growing unless she did something about it, she'd snuck off to the bathroom in the basement. It had been nearly 2am before she'd managed to clean up the mess, throw the towels in the wash, unclog the shower drain, and change her clothes, and her alarm woke her up with perky pop-rock fresh at 6:30 am.

"I hate Fridays," she grumbled, walking next to her vulpine friend Cindy as they shuffled their way from Math 12 to Socials 12. Cindy nodded down to her calico companion in sympathy and barely-restrained jealousy, while Amber glanced jealously right back. As is the way of things, people who envy eachother tend to form the strangest bonds.

Cindy was quite tall for a fox, nearly a foot taller than Amber, and while she had the traditional vixen leanness of body and leg, she had been overly-blessed by the boob fairy, as she was fond of saying. Her school sweater (Go Whitefish!) strained around her almost-impossibly perky bosom, her books clutched protectively beneath it against her belly. The XXL sweaters were as large as they came, which was a small blessing... anything less and she'd have suffocated. They bobbed and swayed right at Amber's eye level, but she had long since grown immune to blushing and staring. She'd seen Cindy's excessively ample chest in everything from a bikini to a prom dress to nothing at all... the mystery was gone.

Still... they did look squeezable...

"But it's the last day before the weekend!" Cindy said with customary perkiness, her personality mirroring her figure: bubbly and larger-than-life. "Come on, we got Lazer Tag tomorrow, and that barbecue on Sunday, which you HAVE to come over for."

"Why? So your distant relatives can make fun of me?"

Cindy waved the comment away dismissively. "Please, honey, I keep TELLING you... herms aren't that big of a deal to foxes, especially older ones. We've got a very high rate, you know, almost a full percent."

Amber nodded sleepily. "Yeah yeah. Barbecue. I'll see what I can do."

Cindy sighed again. She hated it when her friend got down on her figure, cursing what Cindy would have killed for. She knew a LOT of boys who needed a lesson from something like that! She giggled to herself, and briefly lost herself in a fantasy. "You better. It's not good for you to stay home so much, you haven't left the house in a week."

"Stu didn't leave the hospital bed for three days."

"Oh, sweetie, he's FINE! Horses are very springy, you know that. Besides, he told everyone how sexy you were! In detail! It's all over the bathroom graffiti."

"I saw. 'If You Need Your Septic Pumped, Call Amber'. And there's a picture. Very classy." Her claws sank a quarter-inch into her socials textbook, and Cindy winced. "Sorry."

At the next corner, Amber turned left, and Cindy turned right. They waved, and parted ways. The little kitteh waited until her best friend (maybe her only true friend) was out of sight, before she darted sideways into the girls washroom, and darted into a stall. With a sad sniffle, she plopped herself down on the lid and locked the little metal door, resting her face in her hands, and her elbows on her textbook.

"I..." she started to say to herself, then lost whatever train of thought she was going for. She wasn't one to be late for class, but she felt overcome with... well, that was just it, wasn't it? She didn't know what she was overcome with. This was all new to her. Her mind whirled.

Had she raped him? He'd seemed down with the idea, pretty much up until his feet left the ground, and then he'd asked her to stop. BEGGED her to stop. She couldn't have, though, even if she'd wanted to... they'd been tied VERY securely. And that was another problem: did she even want to? If he'd asked, and she HAD been able to stop... would she have?

The only answer she had scared her: she didn't know.

Her textbook shifted, and she stifled a groan, feeling her support undergarments strain against her girls. she felt that strange, percolating tingle deep within her, like her overfilled sac was becoming carbonated, and her claws extended right into her temples.

"God dammit," she hissed, cursing not for the first time that day her lineage, her genetics, her hormones, and her luck. She started to hike her skirt, but gasped when the door slammed open and she heard the telltale squeak-squeak of a janitor's bucket.

Soft, leathery footsteps drew closer, and a small knuckle rapped on the stall door. "Hey, is there anyone in there?"

Amber bounded to her feet, and tried to smooth her skirt, which was like trying to smooth a watermelon. "N... yes! I... I'll just be a second."

"Ok," said the speaker, but there were no further footsteps, and Amber knew that the janitor was just waiting for her to leave.

She clenched her eyes and banged her head against the stall door, just once, in frustration. She wrenched the door open and almost knocked over Mr Stachowski, the strigidae janitor. His enormous eyes grew even wider and he took a step back. "Are you ok?" he hooted curiously, cocking his head and bringing his mop up in front of him slightly.

She glanced once over her shoulder as she marched out. "I'm SUPER! Thanks for asking!" She left the startled owl blinking in solitude, moving swiftly through the now-empty halls. Class was in, and she was undoubtedly being marked 'absent'.

"Fuck it then," she said tiredly, tossing her book into her locker, grabbing her pink jacket, and heading out into the cool autumn air. "If I'm absent for class, I might as well enjoy myself."

The brisk air was a shock to her system, especially her nethers, cooling off her arousal with a little more force than she expected. Her anger faded, too, and she suddenly felt bad for snapping at Mr Stachowski. He was a nice old owl, always there to offer advice, and didn't deserve her pissiness. She vowed to write him a thank-you card.

She could hear activity on the south field, so her feet gradually took her north, where the Circe High Field was located. It was rarely used for sports practice, so it would always be ready and pristine for the showcase sporting events. Lined both sides with new bleachers (at the expense of another computer lab), it looked like the fields on Friday Night Lights always looked. Amber had been to a few games, but only if everyone else was going... she really couldn't care less for football. She was more interested on football players... and their uniforms...

The arousal came storming back, and she gasped, feeling her undergarments suddenly begin to dig into her flanks as her sac swelled anew. "Damn crap fuck hell dammit," she swore, looking around with panicked eyes. She couldn't make it home like this, not at THIS rate, and she couldn't go back to the bathroom now. With her luck, she'd end up with Mr Stachowski again, and she didn't think the old bird's heart could take a sight like her in full hormonal arousal.

Her sheath bulged and her blue skirts began to distend near the waistband. While her undergaments kept her normal-sized girls under control, any growth was met with considerable protest, and eventual structural failure. She made a quick, heart-quickening decision, and scampered under the far bleachers, by the woods. It was as shielded from prying eyes as anywhere on campus, and with class in she should have them all to herself.

The bleachers rose up like a huge, cresting wave, and she managed to wriggle through the aluminum superstructure, into the deeply-shadowed depths where there people who were too cool for sports went during football games. She'd heard them down there, and smelled their tobacco smoke, and had rolled her eyes... now, she suddenly understood the appeal of being unseen in a crowd.

She sagged against a wooden post, and sighed, although with a more pleasant tone this time, and her hands began to wander freely across her body. One creamy paw tugged with urgent force at her breasts, trying to do something to lure her overaroused lusts away from her nethers, while her other paw ignored her conscious mind and began to wriggle its way unto her already badly cramped undergarments.

The touch of her fingertips against her silky sheath brought a short, sharp yelp of ecstasy, though it was dampened somewhat by the growing discomfort her inflexible undergarments could be. She grumbled in annoyance, and seriously hoped she didn't ruin ANOTHER expensive pair. She hooked her thumbs into the elastic which was beginning to pull away from her body in the front, and she glanced down into the slowly-widening opening that lead to her luscious treasures. She giggled, wishing she had someone to share the view with.

"You ok?" said a grumbling voice from behind her.

"HOLY FUCK!" she nearly screamed, leaping sideways, one hand yanking her shirt down to cover the gap in her waistband, the other coming up in front of her defensively. Her whole body hunched over, and she prepared to claw someone's eyes out if they so much as fucking giggled.

In the deep shadows of the bleachers, though, she saw very little until a cigarette ember suddenly brightened, its owner taking a final drag on the little tube before casually tossing it aside. She realized why she hadn't seen the boy when she first climbed into the underworks of the bleachers: the boy was a jaguar, glossy black fur from head to toe, and THIS particular one was dressed to match. There was the occasional glint of a zipper or a spiked collar, or an earring, but the effect was of two opaline eyes floating in the darkness, sparkling with amusement.

"I guess that's a no," the goth jaguar said, moving forward more. He was a bigger boy, but still smaller than Cindy and quite smaller than Stu. He was long and lean, and his nubian tail swayed sulkily back and forth. He seemed to radiate mild annoyance the way nuclear reactors radiated alpha waves. "You're Amber, right?"

She bared one of her fangs. "Yeah," she said, wondering just how quickly she could get out of the bleachers and back to her house before she ruptured a teste. It was going to be close, at this rate. "Love to chat, have to go, thanks, bye."

"Need a little help with those?" came the same bored grumble again when she turned her back, and she froze. Her head slowly rotated around.

"Help with what?"

"You," he said, waving one paw lazily. "You look like you need a little... relief. I've heard the talk, missy... you're what the in-crowd's calling a 'wild ride'."

She hissed softly, trying to keep a lid on it. "A wild ride, eh? Is that what you heard?" She tried to keep up her anger, keep it aimed at the goth kid and his penetratingly uninterested glare, but she couldn't. She sat on an aluminum strut, and nodded, keeping her arms across her body, trying to block his view of her skirts, although her legs were slowly and surely being forced apart.

The goth jag sauntered closer, and she noticed he was wearing purple eyeliner, and something seemed to sparkle around his muzzle. More purple. Was he wearing... "Lip gloss?"

The jag's muzzle smiled, his first real facial expression. "At least it ain't pink," he said, gesturing to her again. She glanced down at herself, and took stock: pink sweater, pink socks and pink shoes, and she knew that her cream-and-gold locks were bound with pink scrunchies. Her skirt was a dark blue, because although her parents might have tried absolutely every trick in the book to get her to act more girly and renounce her hermaphroditic ways, she won out when it came to keeping the girls covered-up and low-key. The blue hid her curves remarkably well.

"Hey, pink wasn't my first choice either," she groused. "But seriously, I've gotta go."

He sat down next to her. "Why the rush?" he asked, seeming concerned and uninterested at the same time. She needed to learn that trick.

"Well, this 'wild ride' is about to jump the tracks, and I'd rather be alone." She made to stand up, but a glossy black paw reached out and touched her hand, and she paused mid-rise.

"You can't get much more alone than down here," he said, gesturing out wide like he was showing off his grand kingdom. Maybe he was.

"Well, yeah, but I'd rather not have you STARING..." She winced, feeling her undergarments growing tighter against her butt, every available thread of fabric slowly moving to the forefront, so to speak.

"I'll keep my eyes closed, how's that?" he said, and true to his word he closed his eyes, revealing sparkly purple eyelids. He surprised her, though, when he leaned in and planted his purple-glossed, grape-tasting lips against hers.

She gasped, and pulled back, one hand slamming him hard in the chest. "Hey, whoa there!" she said, but her heart really wasn't in it. He chuckled, rubbing his chest ruefully, his other hand still resting on hers.

"Sorry, I thought that would have gone over better," he said. "If I try it again, I'll go slower, ok?"

She just stared, slack-jawed. "Are you serious? You're trying to make a move on the girl who almost killed the star quarterback?"

He laughed, loudly this time, a surprisingly deep laugh for suck a slender, purple-makeup'd boy. "You might have almost killed him, but he said himself he'd have died the happiest boy in school. Besides, everyone knows horses aren't that stretchy... they blow their size wad all at once, so to speak." He mimed stroking something very long, and hard, protruding from his black leather pants. She blushed, but nodded.

"No," he continued, squeezing her paw, "what you need is something with a little more... potential. Maybe someone who sees herms as more than just an after-school conquest."

"You mean someone who sees herms as an under-the-bleachers conquest," she said wryly, squirming slightly as her thigh began to cramp.

"Trust me," he said with a lascivious lick of his lips, "I wouldn't want to be the one doing the conquering."

His words sank in slowly, and her jaw went slack again. He apparently decided to seize the opening, and moved in, slowly this time, kissing her more fully. His eyes closed, and a moment later hers did, too. She reached out and rested her hand softly against his chest where she had struck him moments before, stroking softly by way of apology. She just started to think about asking the strange boy his name when her eyes flew open and she managed to stifle a scream right into his mouth.

"What is it?" he asked, his own eyes flying wide to see Amber doubled over on the strut. She grunted once, and gripped her midsection, yanking hard. There was a fast, high-pitched ripping noise, like a flag cracking in the wind, and her cry of agony became a softer moan of relief. She panted for a few seconds, resting on her knees, one hand sinking into the soft, damp grass.

"I, uh... had some underwear... problems," she said. "I'm going to sit up now, ok?"

Fearful of what the boy would think, the SECOND boy to see her naked, she straightened up. Her blue skirts were still mostly in place, but where before they had contained three sizeable and very taut bulges, they were now tenting out in the front very nearly from waist to hem, easily two feet in front of her. The fabric fell away to the sides, easily highlighting the round, hard outline of her shaft, except near her thighs where they highlighted what looked like a pair of basketballs riding high between her legs.

"Meet 'the wild ride'," she said softly, looking up at the goth jag, still perched on the strut. His breathing had become shallow, and for a moment she thought he'd gone into shock; she was positive he'd stopped blinking.

Thousands of years of civilized breeding crumbled, and the goth jag let out a simple, emotional "Myewl."

She blushed, her cream-colored cheeks growing pinker. "I hope that's a good noise," she said with a little smile. The jaguar moved slowly off of the strut, kneeling next to her, one hand reaching out hesitantly. He looked at her, head cocked to the side questioningly, and she gave a barely perceptible nod. She could feel the weight between her legs increasing, whatever muscles she had down there starting to protest faintly, and she was happy she was kneeling... soon the ground would be supporting everything, at this rate.

His hand continued its journey, resting about halfway along the hard bulge in her skirt. Even that simple touch was enough to cause her shaft to twitch, bouncing several inches up and down, and Amber couldn't help but giggle. "I think she likes you," she said with a saucy wink, patting the jag's hands reassuringly. Her other hand tugged the skirt back slightly, revealing the deep pink tip, exposing it to the cool autumn air. She gasped slightly at the change in temperature, but it was a refreshing change from the overpowering heat she felt rising within.

"You can see why I was trying to find somewhere private," she continued softly, guiding his hand in slow strokes along the middle of her shaft. "I got scared out of the bathroom, and I knew I couldn't make it home and... well, you know the rest." She examined the jaguar much more carefully now that he was close, and still. He was slender... sleek might be a better word. She marvelled someone could wear that much leather and not be hot, even in this weather, but goths must have some sort of secrets to dealing with that. She realized that his hands had some sort of fingerless fishnet glove, obviously just for the fashion. Still, black fishnet on black fur?

"I don't suppose you feel like... keeping me company?"

His eyes widened briefly, and she could see his breathing speed up again. Still, the little smile that tugged at his sparkly lips was all the answer she needed. "I don't mean... like THAT, I just mean..." She squeezed his hand against her taut flesh again, and it pulsed back against his palm.

In spite of her warnings, though, the jag boy crouched down a little bit lower, bringing his face ever nearer to her barely-covered shaft. Her skirts were quivering in time with the heavy muscles in her thighs as she tried to keep from leaping onto him. He was taller and stronger, but he'd only be heavier for a few more minutes at this rate. She only had to pin him long enough to...

She shook her head. This was no time for THOSE thoughts, she chastised herself. Stu was enough for one conscience!

Her left hand began to meander around her body again, and she closed her eyes, purring softly. Her right hand still rhythmically squeezed and guided the jag's warm, fuzzy paw, each stroke tugging her skirt back a tiny bit farther. Some part of her wanted to go faster, but she was enjoying the rising tide of sexual joy too much to hurry.

Her shaft bounced again insistently when her skirt tugged back far enough that the jag's pinky finger brushed against her overly-tight flesh. Her faint purrs of arousal became a gasp of lust, and she squeezed his hand hard, desperately, suddenly afraid he would pull back. She swore for a moment she could hear her skin stretching as her traitorous anatomy struggled to swell ever larger, but it might have just been the jag's leather pants rubbing against eachother... she wasn't about to ask. The girls sure felt like they were growing!

He looked at her, eyes seemingly stuck in a permanent expression of shock. "I thought he was just exaggerating," he said with a rueful chuckle. "But... I guess not. I... wow."

He slid his hand purposefully off of her skirts, resting his fuzzy padded paw fully against her turgid shaft, gliding delicately towards the tapered tip. Her entire body quivered electrically, and a short cry of ecstasy escaped her lips when his hand passed over the furthest reaches of her endowments, and started back down the underside.

"I... you're... very good at this," she said between pants, regaining her composure.

"I've never done this before," he said quietly. "Not with a girl, at any rate... and never with anyone so big. So big." His voice had become faint, almost dreamy. His hand passed the halfway point, now pushing her skirts back as it inched along the lower flesh of her gift. Her body quivered again, each moment building on the joy of the previous. Sex with Stu had been insistent, hormonal, while this was tender, but a lot harder to remain in control of. Her mind filled with images of what this jag's sweet bottom must look like, must FEEL like.

She dug the claws of her right hand into her thigh, sinking the claws of her left ever so slightly into her bosom, trying to derail her train of thought before something awful happened. Awful... but wonderful.

His hand cupped the very beginnings of her knot, sliding past and snuggling into the warm space between the very base of her endowment, and the upper slopes of her steadily-filling sac. She was suddenly very aware of the weight that hung from her insides, the pressure against her legs, and a quick glance down told her that she had already exceeded the very pinnacle of her exploits the night before. This banished all doubt from her mind: the girls grew a little when she was alone, but a LOT when someone was there to help.

Both of her hands drifted down, gently squeezing and hefting her sac, tight pink flesh like two autumn pumpkins. They were very easily each larger than her head now, and she could feel her hands being pushed slowly apart as they struggled to expand ever further. She meeped in surprise when a pair of black paws joined hers, all four extremeties still dwarfed by her immense testes.

"How big do you get?" he asked, head cocked curiously. Her mind echoed with the memory of Stu asking that same question, and she fought a paing of regret.

"Big enough," she said huskily, inching towards him, leaning forwards, trying to find another outlet for her irrational desires. Her lips found his, and she tasted the sparkly grape flavor of his glossy lips, and then the rough heat of his tongue flicking against hers. As expected, they both felt her sac redouble its efforts. Blades of damp grass began to tickle the undersides of her balls, and she giggled against his muzzle.

The boy shifted her skirts one final time, and then she was essentially naked from the waist down. Her undergarments had been yanked down (rather unpleasantly) and bunched around her knees, propping her sac up and out, presenting them like a gift to the world. Their kiss broke, and they both stared in silence for a moment. A cool breeze blew, caressing her exceedingly ample dimensions, causing her shaft to twitch in anticipation.

Amber knew that, rock-hard and alone, she was very nearly two feet long. If she had to take a wild guess at her current size, she was probably nearer to three feet than two, and definitely noticeably thicker (at least, noticeable to her). She gripped it midway with her hands, angling it up, feeling the added weight, eyes wide. Once again her hands were joined by the jaguar's wonderfully silky paws.

The real shock came a moment later when he scooted sideways, moving to face her more fully, and he brought his grape-flavored lips down to the tip of her member. He kissed her glans much in the same way he had kissed her lips, and she felt his tongue brush against her flesh. Her back arched, her legs spasmed, and her hips bucked once, thumping him quite firmly in the face, which he didn't seem to mind too much. She blushed apologetically, golden fur turning a delicate shade of pink, but his own smile was fixed firmly in place.

"You... you don't have to do that..."

"Yes," he said, softly but firmly. "Yes, I really do."

She opened her mouth to say something else, at the very least to warn the dear boy, but his mouth lowered again and all of her words simply whooshed out of her like air out of a balloon. He flexed his jaw, and several inches vanished into his mouth, emerging a few seconds later, shiny and wet. Amber didn't spasm this time, but she was now nibbling at her lower lip like a starving mouse at a piece of cheese, trying not to groan or scream or anything else that could attract attention. She fancied, before her vision started to blur, that she could make out the corded bundles of muscle and tendon standing out in sharp relief on her shaft.

His head bobbed again, and slightly more slid tightly into his mouth, emerging again, moist and sensitive. She marveled at his ability to keep his predator's teeth out of the way, but she marveled even more when he gripped her shaft with more insistence, not just lowering his face but pulling himself down. His lips parted, his cheeks bulges, and suddenly the her tapered tip was plunged against the bath of his throat. A strangled yelp did escape her lips, but she was much more concerned with the very palpable increase in pressure between her legs.

She forced her eyes open, awestruck at how much the jag's mouth could accommodate, and saw him pulling back up. She whimpered softly, the last of her resolve letting him free himself before something horrible happened. He gasped, locking his eyes with hers when he finally pulled her member free. He smiled, licking at his lips, a thin trickle of white standing out stark against his nubian muzzle.

"You're quite a workout," he chuckled, opening his mouth wide again, hands gripping hard as he forced himself down on her once more. Her hands flew to his, wanting to pry them free, to save him from himself, and from her uncontrollable anatomy. The feeling of her overly-sensitive tip against his throat again, though, washed away all protests, and replaced them with the sensation she'd experienced only once before... a small, crimson and animalistic voice simply murmurring 'More'.

His cheeks bulged out again, and now she could clearly see her shaft bulging out slightly, flesh straining against her elastic but overtaxed skin. The jag's tongue caressed her most intimate areas, and he started to lift his head again, but his eyes flew open when Amber squeezed his hands hard... and pulled.

Amber was slim and slight, but she was, like many herms, stronger than she looked. Gripping the boy's hands, twining her fingers in his, and pulling them to the base of her shaft, he was unable to pull his head back far enough. He smiled worriedly, eyes sparkling, expecting her to let go any moment, but she didn't. She couldn't. She didn't even think she wanted to anymore. All she could think about was how GOOD he felt, how warm and tight and inviting.

He started to mumble something incoherently around the jaw-straining girth of her shaft, the volume rising sharply when Amber's endowment reacted much as it had with Stu. She sandwiched his palms against the base of her shaft, her knot beginning to swell with the merest hints of its glory to be. She could feel his mouth getting tighter, but it wasn't his mouth that was gripping her more firmly... they both saw all to well that her shaft was growing.

His moans rose in pitch before being cut off entirely by her slowly but inexorably expanding member filling his throat. His neck bulged weirdly, the snug collar of his shirt resisting only briefly before ripping. His feet dug feebly into the grass as he tried to extricate himself. Amber shushed him soothingly, patting his hands, knowing that they were as snugly joined as she had been with Stu. "It's ok, sweetie," she said softly, eyes half-lidding again, overflowing with sensation. "it will be over soon."

She didn't think it possible, but his eyes bugged out even bigger. His posture changed, his hips rising slowly off of the damp grass. She knew he wasn't trying to stand up, and the frightened comprehension in his eyes spoke volumes. Her rock-hard shaft had swollen into his belly, and his humble physiology was no match for its rigid, hormone-loaded size. She couldn't be sure of her size anymore, but based on where his hands gripped at his bulging midsection, she figured somewhere past four feet... and still growing.

The weight tugging at her hips eased off as her balls finally filled up enough to rest fully on the earth, each now considerably wider than her body. The jag's eyes flicked back and forth between them, half-panicked and half-lusting. As unsure as he might be of his future, he was still clearly a fan of size.

Her knot was now the size of a basketball, and still growing. His hands had settled onto it, holding on for balance, massaging and caressing. She was amazed how sensitive it had become. Her own hands roamed along her shaft, occasionally moving to pet the jag's cheeks, or ruffle his black hair encouragingly. The more he wriggled, the more of him rubbed and slid across her flesh, and the closer she moved to the unavoidable climax.

And she knew it was soon.

She leaned back, thighs splayed to give her beachball-sized sac more room. Her shaft strained to rise into the air, lifting the boy's body a foot into the air, his feet kicking feebly. The sudden realization that she was filling him so completely that he didn't even touch the ground only aroused her further, evidenced by his startled squeak and his jaw stretching still wider. More than half of her shaft was now buried inside his hot little body, and she thought she had to be bigger now than she'd been with Stu. Her knot was like a pumpkin, rubbing against her belly button.

"So... so close now," she moaned, no longer trying to be quiet. The goth tried shaking his head 'no', but it simply caused her shaft, and its black fuzzy feline condom, to sway back and forth. He gripped her shaft again, pushing with all the strength that remained in his arms, but it was like trying to lift oneself up by one's feet. His butt bumped against one of the struts, and she was suddenly concerned with how much room there was under the bleachers. If she was bigger than she'd been with Stu, what would happen to HIM?

There was a faint glimmer of remorse, but it was buried under an avalanche of pent-up sexual energy. The heat bloomed within her loins, her sac suddenly expanded like the final breath into a party balloon, and the veins stood out hard and tight against her overstretched skin. His tail lashed, and the buttons on his pants popped free as the bulge in his belly reached its lower limit. She wasn't sure what was going on inside his tummy right now, but it was about to get a LOT more crowded in there.

Like static before a thunderstorm, her skin prickled and flushed all over. It felt like the pressure would go in increasing forever, until she simply exploded from desire, but then the base of her shaft bulged hugely. Her knot responded in kind, growing still larger, and she could see her shaft beyond growing wider as well. The first incredible load of seed was more than even her overgrown member could handle easily. She thought the boy tried to scream, but it was impossible to tell; she could only be sure of the roaring in her ears.

The bulge moved up until her endowment vanished into his mouth, and his jaw found new limits of stretchiness as the bulge moved into his body. His throat strained, his chest creaked, and his belly seemed to plump up a tiny bit more, and for a moment that felt like infinity, they were locked together, posed on the brink of orgasm.

His body quivered once, and she tumbled over the edge.

All at once, her first phenomenal burst of seed flowed into his body. His belly resisted for the briefest of instants before swelling up like he had suddenly become full-term with twins. His feet touched the ground as the weight at the end of her shaft increased, but his feet left again soon after when the second surge swelled his belly more than double again, forcing his legs out wide.

Amber moaned and panted, eyes rolling wildly, taking in his incredible transformation, seeing the fear and ecstasy in his eyes. Her climax sped up, but as before, her sac did not seem to be diminishing in size... if anything, the weight against her thighs was increasing. Another surge, and his arms and legs were snuggled against his spherical body like a baby on a watermelon. She reached up unsteadily, arm shaking, and cupped the side of his face.

"Hold on," she groaned reassuringly, "just... just hold on..."

She exploded within him again and again, and it was barely ten seconds later when she felt midnight black fur rubbing against her balls. Bigger and fuller his body stretched, the sight of it growing ever larger only turning her on more. His arms wiggled uselessly, and she had lost sight of his legs completely now. She was pretty sure that his diameter had to be larger than his normal standing height, and even that proved to be a very conservative estimate when his ballooning flanks bumped into more support struts for the bleachers.

She didn't know how long her orgasm lasted, and she didn't really care. It felt like hours, days, maybe even weeks. She couldn't remember what she'd had for breakfast that morning, or why she was even outside. All she could remember was the electric fire of her climax, and the dear, sweet, loving boy who had borne its fury.

She leaned back against a strut, gasping for air. Her knot was beginning to subside, and her shaft was pointed almost directly up. The jag's head was nearly level with hers, though bent at a funny angle to accommodate her still-hard member. The rest of her field of view, side to side and high above, was a solid but jiggling wass of sleek, glossy black fur.

Amber leaned forward and kisses the dazed boy on the nose. "I don't even know your name," she said, tugging her feet out from under him.

She tousled his ears, scooting her butt back as her softening endowment started to pull free. "I don't know how to thank you, either," she continued, her sheath becoming more prominent as her anatomy retreated, spent and exhausted.

Her glans popped free, followed by a short gush of white seed, before his jaw slammed shut, tendons creaking in protest.

"I suppose I'll have to call someone to help you," she said apologetically, rubbing her cheek up against his, tugging her undergarments back up and dropping her skirt back down.

"But I'll never forget this. I promise."

She kissed him again, on his damp, creamy lips one last time, and stood up. She felt a little bad for the boy, but he was right... the smaller ones WERE stretchier. She doubted that even standing on her tippy-toes she'd be able to even reach his tail. The bleachers at the back were about twelve feet in the air, and she could see just the tiniest hint of sunlight over the upper curve of his nearly spherical body.

"I think you should have a nap... you'll need your strength," she said with a giggle, hugging the immense seed-filled orb. In the distance, the lunch bell rang, and Amber was suddenly aware of her powerful hunger. It was stir-fry day in the cafeteria, she remembered gleefully, skipping off. She had to find Cindy...

... she'd NEVER believe this.