title: Tastes Like Shrinking aliases: [] tags: [FA] author: [Kyrm] id: [48644017] date: 星期五, 八月 26日 2022, 10:48:43 上午 modified: 星期三, 八月 31日 2022, 12:28:15 凌晨

[TOC]

Tastes Like Shrinking

Author: Kyrm Source: Tastes Like Shrinking [Commission]

Rival roommates, cocky canine Rory and shortstack goo-cat Parfait engage in a lewd competition to determine which of them has the fuller figure. Rory is the big winner... until he isn't. Suddenly struggling to measure up, his assets are licked up and piled onto his swelling opponent.

And he's kinda into it.

Rory met his own cocky grin in the changing stall’s full-body mirror. Its polished surface had exactly enough width to reflect two full-figured figures hip to hip with tails raised high. Together these competitors peered over their shoulders vying for downstairs supremacy. Clad only in feminine lingerie “borrowed” off the store rack for their bet’s sake. Identical size, identical brand, both black velvet numbers hugged snug to their owners’ considerable cheekage.

“Told ya, shortcake,” the canine twink gloated to his roommate, “I’m the wide one in our household.” Underwear didn’t lie. His voracious figure crumpled its V shape down to something with more familial ties to a capital I.

“The height advantage shouldn’t count.” Parfait pouted over second place. The so-called shortcake happened to be a shortstack. If not for Rory’s considerable height advantage, he would’ve been in big trouble. Overwhelmed by the caked-up cake cat’s jutting lower torso. To continue the dessert analogy, if Rory’s fur made him a mocha-vanilla blend, Parfait lived up to their namesake. Half-cat half-goo with creamy skin fringed pink: gapless thighs torso-thick and jiggly as waterbeds; glutes almost comical in proportion.

Sure, Rory’s roommate was some variety of cryptid or SCP or an escaped government experiment—they could be the second coming for all he cared; what mattered was they paid their half of the rent on time. Being easy on the eyes helped too.

…not that he would ever admit that aloud.

“Well it does, loser.” He peeled his fuzzy hip from Parfait’s sticky skin only to swing in again for a braggart’s butt-bump. The impact drummed a plap through Parfait’s porcelain cheeks, set into an appreciable quiver—like taking the back of a spoon to a bowlful of gelatin. “Guess that means you’re paying for our outfits today. Take some time. Drink in the big winner.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” cooed Parfait, facing Rory at a squat that leveled their flirtatious stare with his hip.

“You’re supposed to be upset over losing.” As sticky-wet warmth traced up the length of his hip, he let out a startled whine. “Hey.”

“Mm…” Parfait smacked their lips. “Tastes like insecurity.”

Rory swiped away the spot of food-coloring pink drool licked into the furs of his hip. “Wanna run that by me again, shortcake?”

Between the two of them, Rory could be described as “high maintenance.” Parfait was the laidback one. Except when it came to height. A jab in that field tended to earn at least a teensy sulk. After a thorough dwarfing by Rory’s dumptruck, it should’ve been easy to bully them in the victory lap. Hard not to feel sensitive when a five-foot-nothing dog had head and shoulders on you. But the cat looked unfazed, lips drawn into that mischievous 3-shaped smirk only felines could achieve. “Round two?”

Rory snorted. “It’s not like an arm-wrestling match. Our bodies aren’t gonna change ‘cus we looked away for three seconds. It’s just a fact of life: I’m thicker than you.”

“What if I sweetened the pot?” Parfait’s hands explored Rory’s hindquarters, nestling a face-cheek against butt-cheek as if the conversation were between the two of them. The cat wiggled a finger against crack-flossing panties, loosening them with a tug. No longer quite as tight as when Rory slipped them on.

“You’d best be kissing my a-s-s if you’re going to waste my t-i-m-e.”

“If you win, sure.”

Rory scoffed a flustered scoff and jerked his head forward to stare at the narrow stall’s opposing wall. “You answered way too quickly.”

“And you didn’t say no.”

“Whatever, flatbread. Since you’re in such a losing mood today. Easiest bet of my life.” Rory kept his glare fixed ahead while Parfait rose. His breath caught as the yielding softness of the cat’s hip melted like marshmallow around his own. “Okay, big boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Awfully confident when we already know the…” Rory trailed as he looked over his shoulder. “…results.”

“Aw, I was hoping we didn’t measure right last time.”

“Of course we did.” Though Rory said that more to reassure himself. He was still the winner, but not by the landslide he remembered. At first glance they had almost looked like equals.

“If I were your height, it’d be no contest,” Parfait murmured with an uncharacteristic amount of thoughtfulness. Their reflection’s eyes met Rory’s. “Would you like that?”

“What?” Tufted chest furs fluffed up in alarm.

“You know.” Parfait’s smile grew sly. “More rump to bump?” They teased with another hip-tap.

“Parf…”

“More cushion for the pushin’?”

“Don’t you owe me something, squirt?”

“Your tail is wagging.”

“And your lips are decidedly not on the winner’s superior figure.”

“If you want it that badly…” Parfait crept down to their knees again.

“I don’t,” Rory whined. “And keep your voice down,” he added at a hiss. “If anyone hears us we’re gonna get kicked out.”

“Mmm…” Parfait’s lips met their target, tongue slithering out then upwards in a long, slow drag—unusually thick saliva painting a pink trail along butt furs.

If Rory hadn’t closed his eyes to bask in his victory, maybe he would’ve noticed the subtle changes to his surroundings.

If an erection hadn’t sprang up to occupy space in otherwise loosening panties, he was certain to have felt the difference.

“Round three?”

He snapped his eyes open then swished his tail aside to arch an inquiring brow over his shoulder. “Can’t you just…” But he trailed off, stiffly facing forward as if he didn’t care in the slightest. “Sure. Just hurry it up, okay? We get it: I’m the top dog around—ah!” What felt like 100 pounds in pillows bumped against his side, forcing him to throw a hand out to catch himself on the back wall.

“Hi-hi-hi-hi,” Parfait’s giggle chirped over Rory’s growl. “Sorry, ‘top dog,’ didn’t expect to topple you that easy.”

“Whatever.” After a cursory brush of his hip, he beat it against Parfait’s. He knew where this was headed. He didn’t mind. Having the superior figure meant he deserved some admiration—and he’d make sure his roommate never lived down kissing his ass all over.

Rory looked over his shoulder to check the mirror only for his cocky expression to falter. His and Parfait’s hips still fit the mirror frame to frame—but where Rory once took majority share, now Parfait controlled the frame’s width.

Not just width, he realized.

“Aw, you won again?” Parfait whined.

“Huh?” He had… won? Against all that? Rory spun to face Parfait out of suspicion, only for them to plunge to their knees again. Face-to-crotch, they smiled dead-ahead. Something about them looked different, almost like—

“Someone’s been enjoying this,” they sang.

“Shut up.” That comment shattered Rory’s concentration. Spinning around, he slapped Parfait in the face with his tail then kinked it upwards to present his figure. His fuller figure. Of course he won, he won the last two times. Nothing had changed. Trick of the light. Too much of Parfait’s mouthwatering, supple… still-second-rate curves on the mind.

“It’s alright.” Parfait pinched Rory’s butt. “I mean, we’re comparing curves half-naked. Of course you’re gonna get worked up.”

“And as that comparison goes, you’ve got nothing on me.” Rory fell back into his role. “I’m bigger. I’m thicker. I’m the start of the show.”

“Mhm.” Another of those hi-hi-hi-hi giggles said Parfait was up to something. Something Rory elected to ignore.

“I ought to teach you a lesson.” Rory swung his hips from side to side then threw them back. A direct hit caught Parfait by the snout, the back of their head smacked against the stall door. “H-here.” His lips trembled in an attempt at a dominant smirk. “Maybe some of my thickness will rub off on ya.” He began grinding his victory in Parfait’s face.

Obedient licks invaded his crack with the hunger of an animal at its food bowl. Flustered dizzy, Rory slammed his elbows and bowed forearms to opposite walls of the stall to brace himself.

What had he been worried about? Parfait was a runt—always had been, always would be. They’d obviously made this bet for a chance at an eyeful. Now they could have a mouthful too.

“You’re gonna be staying right there for even thinking you could outmatch all this ass,” he growled under his breath. Surprisingly strong hands wrapped around the backs of his thighs. If not for their hold, he would’ve fallen over a moment after as his elbows slipped—neither able to reach the walls they rested against seconds ago.

He lurched forward by his upper torso. Throwing his hands out, he slapped them against the walls to catch himself then sighed relief. Relief that didn’t last. Confused panic set in as, with each passing second, he had to straighten his bent forearms further out to reach those same walls.

“Parf?” Rory asked. Svelte fingers pinching the backs of his thighs crept further along, their grip extending to claim more of him. Parfait’s tongue continued with thoughtless voraciousness. The cat’s hold on his thighs became the only thing keeping his paws planted on the floor, his sweaty palms slipping against stall walls stretching farther apart, climbing upwards.

Movement in the mirror caught his eye. He saw himself, he saw his thighs swallowed in hands too huge to possibly belong to Parfait’s. And there, stooped forward to conceal their intimidating new size…

Flailing his arms, Rory ripped free of Parfait’s grasp, more accurately: Parfait let go. Momentum sent him stumbling. Without a snout wedged there to prop his panties up, they plummeted around his ankles. He fell a second after, collapsing at the back of their stall. Landing atop his and Parfait’s piled outfits with a grunt.

Still on his side, he pawed at cherry-scented clothes in confusion. He saw his own shirt, or a shirt that looked like his but couldn’t be. Much too large. With a neck hole that would expose an entire shoulder if he tried wearing it.

Everything around Rory served as evidence, but the one-word conclusion it all pointed towards was impossible.

“Something wrong, Rory?”

The question came from right behind him.

Nude on all fours, he looked over his shoulder. What he saw startled his limbs into a thrash, flailing him 180-degrees onto his butt to kick against piles of clothing until his back hit the wall.

There on hands and knees was Parfait. Much, much more Parfait than there should have been. Leaning forward to inspect Rory’s shrunken form.

Shrunken.

There it was. The answer to the question of what in the hell happened. He couldn’t have had much more than 3’ left to his name, his head an elbow-rest for larger friends. Short enough that, without his bombshell hips, the store manager might happen upon him and ask, “Where are your parents?”

And all that size had to go somewhere.

“Haaaah,” Parfait sighed in obvious pleasure. A maw that could now fit Rory’s entire head yawned wide, strands of pink drool like supporting columns. “You taste good, y’know. A bit salty, ‘til you start blushing. Then you’re very, very sweet.”

“Parf…” Rory scrambled upright, back flush against the wall to keep as much distance between himself and his huge roommate as possible. “What the fuck did you do to me?” His heart sank. Standing up had only emphasized Parfait’s new position in the pecking order. Even with the cat on all fours, Rory stood just a little taller—Parfait having grown to twice his diminished height, and well beyond that in size. Where shrinking made Rory daintier in proportion, Parfait’s shortstack poundage heaped onto a normal-sized person made them a sight to behold.

They were built like a goddamn tank.

A slender back arched to the swell of pale hips that flirted with opposing stall walls at once. With an arch of the spine, those hips rose heaved higher, great mass jiggling with more weight to one cheek than remained in Rory’s meager body.

“You know how, when you’ve got an ice cream sundae, you keep licking—” Big Parfait leaned closer, affectionate eyes rolling up in their sockets to meet this cornered dog’s. “—and licking? And you’re watching your weight but you can’t stop ‘cause it tastes ssssoooo good?”

“Yeah,” Rory answered through a dry mouth.

“So you lap it all up, and now it’s gone right to your huge.” A word Parfait punctuated by slamming the right wall with the side of their hip. “Hefty.” The left wall shuddered from a similar blow. “Cheeks?” Exaggerated wobbles kept Rory captivated. Only a giggling, “Hi-hi-hi-hi,” broke the spell.

Rory glowered down—though far less “down” than he would have liked—at this Amazonian rendition of his roommate. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s what I did to you, silly. I licked up your size and heaped it all onto my new-and-improved body. Cool, huh?”

“Y-you’re not supposed to drag me into your weirdness, weirdo.” Rory pouted to counter that impish smile. “Un-lick me. Right now.”

“Aren’t we kinda in the middle of something?” A nod from Parfait lowered both their gazes towards an intruder. The third member of their conversation, pointing from between Rory’s legs at Parfait.

He looked down at his erection, then cringed when met Parfait’s eyes. “I...” was all he managed before another giggle fit rippled across the cat’s stolen figure. “It’s not funny,” he said through clenched fangs. Sweeping his tail up around his waist to give himself crotch coverage after the shameful fact.

“Come on, Rory. Don’t cover it up. I wanna see. It’s adoooorable.”

“‘Adorable’ is not an applicable adjective for a man’s dick.” Rory stamped a paw on the floor. The tiny tapping sound he produced renewed Parfait’s giggles. “Now come on. Get with growing me back.”

“What about round four of our measuring contest?” Parfait cocked their head.

“Oh no. Uh-uh.” Rory held his fists up to defend himself. “Doesn’t matter if there’s three feet of me or three inches. I can still knock you on those oversized fat rolls you call ass cheeks.”

“Maybe we’ll have a chance to test that theory.” Parfait ambushed Rory by swinging their right hand in from the side. His scrawny wrists were effortlessly corralled into the same fist then yanked over his head. Parfait rose off the floor, lifting Rory by his arms like an ornery, fresh-picked turnip.

“I am a full-grown dog!” he yapped, paws pedaling air. “J-just because you’re a sore loser—”

“Half-grown pup,” Parfait teased in correction, giggling again as they dangled little Rory at their tremendous side. “And I dunno about loser...” The weight of his hip used to dent Parfait’s like memory foam. Now he barely left a dimple against the cushy surface. It forced him to bend awkwardly to conform to its domineering curve.

Held several feet off the floor for comparison’s sake, he looked over his shoulder.

The white hemispheres of a cat more ass than person hogged the mirror. If not for their extra-soft skin, those panties would’ve busted apart ages ago. Instead they stretched into an invisible g-string flossed within the depths of a crack that could gobble up a ruler and still not find the bottom. The waistband encircled like the flimsy ring around a planet—taut and trembling tenuous, nigh-invisible nipping into hip fat.

…and if those were planets, what Rory had to show were little moons. It seemed a miracle that anything else could fit in that reflection with Parfait’s parenthetical backend in the two-person mirror’s frame. That is until Rory remembered he was now a half-person, Parfait one-and-a-half.

Without height to get in the way, Parfait had become a voluptuous monster. The reversal was brutal on Rory’s ego. All the plumpness he took such pride in now dwarfed by only one of Parfait’s cheeks.

“Okay, lesson learned,” Rory said. Though he kept staring. If Parfait’s assets really were planets, their gravitational pull had caught his gaze. “C’mon, Parf. You’re bigger—ha-ha. When am I getting my size back?”

Labored, borderline sexual breaths replied. Parfait clamped a fang down on their lower lip, self-absorbed stare similarly caught by their own gravity. By the quantifiable evidence that they had fattened themself into an erotic behemoth.

“Parf?” Rory repeated, more pleading than demanding this time. “You won, alright? I’ll pay for the panties even though you cheated, but—”

With their free hand, Parfait reached around to admire their figure. It almost vanished with a press, mired in softness that resembled a giant helping of vanilla pudding. “Can you believe how much bigger I’ve gotten?”

“Yeah, with my height.” Pedaling his legs through the air sent Rory swinging by his arms, heaving from Parfait’s hip only to hit it and trampoline off again.

Familiar pink droplets had begun to well up along Parfait’s entire body. They glazed slick flesh, oozing in a way that almost made it seem that the cake-cat had begun to melt. Rory knew better. This was Parfait blushing: burning up on the inside and sweating out some of that gooey, cherry-flavored core. It exuded a sweet bakery scent that saturated the stall. Cherries; vanilla; something sugary that flirted with the rims of Rory’s nostrils and gave him a hankering for sweets.

Parfait jerked Rory upwards until their noses touched. He went rigid as if a gun were pointed to his face, knowing one wrong move might get him soaked in size-stealing slobber.

His ears perked at the sound of a door opening. They both froze for a moment and listened to approaching footsteps. Someone entered the changing room and occupied the stall farthest from theirs.

Salvation. Rory could call for help. He needed it. His roommate was downright feral, size-starved after months of being called shortcake. Getting knocked aside by a dog eager to brag about his superior physique at every opportunity.

“You’re still hard,” Parfait whispered—words quiet and wet, more mouth-movement than sound.

The denouement sent a flinch through Rory’s chest as if he had been punched, a quiet exhale blown through his nostrils. He didn’t cry out. He just dangled in the crosshairs of his roommate’s drooping stare. Harder than he had ever been in his life.

“Can I have some more, Rory?” A desperation huffed through Parfait’s speech.

“More?” Rory rasped, ears drawn back in an alarmed exclamation point.

“I don’t want to be rude, but you’re kind of wasting a figure that good on a body that small...” A flustered fidget from Parfait might have been innocuous at normal height. Here the wall shook with a squishy clap of gelatin flesh. “And I can’t stop thinking about the way your eyes keep getting glued to my butt.” Their voice cooed sweet as the scent wafting off them as they added, “I don’t want to show off. I want you to prefer things this way.”

Before Rory could stammer an argument, Parfait manhandled him around, releasing his wrists to fasten both hands to his hips. Holding him like a sandwich. There was no foreplay: just a slobbery sound as Parfait brought their tongue down on Rory’s right ass cheek.

He clapped his hands over his mouth. A makeshift muzzle for an unwanted moan. Losing size hadn’t stopped this sexual attention from being a turn-on. With each relentless lap from Parfait’s hungry tongue, he expected the hands around his hips to grow larger. But they only grew rougher, pinching through fat into bone.

Looking down, his eyes widened from understanding. He saw his bubble butt and thunder thighs thinning out. Groped away in Parfait’s grasp. If his thicker assets were large scoops of ice cream, they were melting on the cat’s tongue. Greedily flattening Rory’s curves to heap more onto what was already much too much feline.

From his narrow shoulders to a now-thin waistline, Rory could only shudder while he let himself get licked down. Reduced to a consistent twink twig, the pride and joy of his top-melting tank ass now pert little humps.

The sweet vanilla of embarrassment.

The cherry topping of a blush.

The chocolate drizzle of pleasure.

Whatever abstractions Rory’s emotions tasted like, they made Parfait hum in delight, barely lowering their volume for whoever was changing in that other stall. Rory choked on his own sounds, hands trembling as he clamped his muzzle shut and squirmed for mortifying enjoyment of Parfait’s asset-sapping tongue.

The changing room door opened, closed—their unaware third party now gone. Rory let go of his snout, an undammed whine escaping into the air.

It made Parfait stop.

Humid breaths blew against Rory’s back. He shivered, body warm with spit yet fundamentally colder. Less padded in fat.

“Much better,” Parfait gasped. “What do you think, shortcake?”

Held hip-to-hip again, Rory’s didn’t leave a dent.

His gaze limped over his shoulder. Looking into the mirror didn’t give a sense of himself. He wasn’t even in the picture anymore. The two-man mirror had scant room to frame Parfait’s hip-span alone.

“How the hell did you take more than I have to give?” Taken to its logical conclusion, Parfait shouldn’t have been this thick unless they sapped Rory down to the last atom. Panties tremored precariously, the threadbare waistband too frail to burrow into this creamy dumptruck.

“Your figure’s high in calories. Maybe you should lay off the burgers, big guy.” The hi-hi-hi-hi that followed came breathier than usual.

“And maybe you should lay off literally eating my ass.”

“But all that size looks sooo much better on me.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“But we both agree,” Parfait purred in an obvious flirt.

“You’re the one who started this stupid bet to get me like this.”

“And you’re the one who hasn’t stopped ogling me since we moved in together. Or the one who hasn’t stopped being hard since he shrank.” When Rory crossed one thigh over the other, Parfait’s tone sweetened: “It’s okay. I don’t mind if I’m going to be your new obsession.”

“Don’t call it that. Your overstuffed ass isn’t an obsession.”

“What if I let you ride me?”

“Here?” Rory’s pitch cracked as he looked back over his shoulder. Trying to fathom the concept of mounting cheeks larger than himself.

Parfait’s expression softened. All gooey and indulgent like his sugary namesake. “All you have to do—” Reaching forward, they slammed Rory back-first against the wall. “—is let me have another taste.”

“There’s no way.” Rory crossed his arms, only to have them go limp in view of Parfait’s maw. The cat’s tongue lolled but didn’t lick. It hung there, a horny offer for a horny dog. Could he really give up more of himself? Feed his height to this insatiable cat-cake creature just to put more pounds on them? And his only repayment would be to pump what little cock he had left into a bottomless crack.

Parfait presented no counterargument. No other reason for Rory to surrender more of himself to his friend’s fat ass. Only an expectant, “Ahhh,” breathing cherry-tinged air across his face.

It was enough.

Closing his eyes, Rory scrunched his face before planting it against the sticky surface. Jaws sealed around his head and his fate. Parfait swirled their tongue clockwise, mussing fur and hair while treating the dog in their maw like a lollipop. Dwindling his existence by the lap. Parfait relinquished his sides, letting him dangle for several moments before popping their jaw open and dropping him to the floor. The landing hurt, both due to distance dropped and the bony bottom he had to land on.

Rory sat up woozily, wiping saliva from his face.

Thud.

Then leapt upright to the sound of Parfait’s step—their weight compounded with everything drained off him. Standing didn’t help close the gap. Rory had shed a full foot in height. A pitiful pup-sized 2’, left awed from knee-height. Taking in the ponderous extent of his poor judgment.

The stall seemed that much smaller, overflowing with Parfait’s presence. That much steamier, too. The bigger they got, the more they seemed to sweat with excitement. Mammoth Parfait’s sweat-slicked skin squealed against polished panels as they lugged their sexual fat around to face towards Rory.

Parfait’s surroundings had become their confines. Trembling stall walls boxed in their uniquely yielding flesh, flattening hips and the sides of thighs. An ounce of fat more and even that generous give wouldn’t be enough.

What string remained for panties shook worse than the walls. A thread-thin strip drawn thinner by the second, quaking to survive in the uncomfortable divot between two very visible balls. With a relieved sigh from Parfait, the last strands split apart, and their panties flew like a slung rubber band—smacking the wall behind Rory then slumping around his feet.

“Hi-hi-hi-hi.” Effeminate laughter rumbled deeper than before, shamelessly filling the room without fear of getting caught. Rory craned his stare up this marshmallow wall of robbed endowment. Anyone who walked inside now would immediately see Parfait’s horny expression above the stall walls: slack-jawed from panting, flecks of cherry drool painting their chin.

That was a lot of Parfait.

The walls complained under fresh duress as the cat reoriented. Facing away, their goopy tail heaved overhead and splatted against the rear wall. An awning shaking pink raindrops onto Rory’s head.

“Ready, for your reward, Rory?”

All that fat. All that heat. Steam wafted up from the crack in a cherry-flavored fog. Shiny beads of pink sweat applied an appetizing glaze to contours that could flatten a mattress. Rory’s cock ached with primal need, making him drool like a simpleminded beast presented the perfect meal.

“At this point it’s almost more you than me,” Parfait coaxed. “So it’s only fair that you have your chance with it.”

“A-and once I’m… finished, you’ll return me to normal?”

“Oh, Rory. Once you’re finished, you won’t want to be normal.” The smitten mutt only half-processed this answer, clambering up the meager slice of a corner bench to reach his goal. That added boost didn’t stop Parfait’s ass from looming higher, a subtle quiver running through it even at rest. “Butt tell you what. If you can somehow get me going while you’re pumping all this plumpness, maybe I’ll feed you your height back.”

Rory knew that was a fool’s errand. The stiff stub between his legs had no hope of penetrating those depths; not even his arm could accomplish such a feat. His hands melted into the fat of opposing cheeks, teeth-gritting efforts to peel them apart almost exhausting. A few inches rolled open, freeing a waft of sugary musk that turned the air downright humid.

He let Parfait’s cheeks wobble back into place. His own limbs trembled in kind out of anticipation.

Sure, this was hopeless—he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

It took a jump to mount Parfait. Akimbo limbs thrown their widest and he still couldn’t encompass this pumped-up rump. Burrowing hands and knees gave him a precarious hold.

“Go ahead,” his enabler whispered, “It’s all yours.”

Or maybe Rory was all its, his former mass now more butt fat than body. He took one last breath before gliding face-deep through the sweat-lubed crack. Beads of it flew off both cheeks with the pitiful plap-plap-plap of his skinny hips humping ripples across the surface.

Before this mess began, it had been him—him—pinning Parfait to the wall with his excessive ass. Now he was latched to Parfait’s perfection like a willing slave. Without post-nut clarity there to hit him back to his senses, Rory’s libido left his thoughts soft as his surroundings.

Taste. Texture. Sensation. All sweet, sweet, sweet; a sexual sugar rush of flesh as he guzzled Parfait’s flavored sweat. Huffed sweet vapors of butt musk.

Endearing encouragement egged him on. The changing stall’s walls creaked with continued stress similar to Rory’s mental state—ready to break under the weight of Parfait. More ass than any man had ever dealt with and he couldn’t get enough. Half a minute in heaven confirmed Parfait’s prediction; they couldn’t be topped. Literally in the case of the puny penis trying to penetrate, figuratively in bouncy waterbed thickness.

Rory was addicted. Obsessed.

Tearing his snout free, sweat beaded in droplets around his muzzle. Evidence of his debasement shone in bright pinks and reds, clotting chin furs together. “Parf?” he whimpered, a new shyness affecting his voice. His embedded cock still throbbed, desperate for release but in that paradoxical way where the longer he stayed pent-up the more he didn’t want to stop. Wanting to ride the sexual high forever if his mortal body could.

Deep sighs stopped abruptly overhead. “Yes, Rory?”

“Could you....” Each shuddering breath he took bounced Parfait’s butt against him. “C-could you...”

A hand blanketed his back, strong fingers pressing around his ribcage. Not quite a doll to Parfait, but weightless enough that he came up without effort. Rising into the air sent an uncontrollable shiver through him: air-conditioning felt torturous. Downright intolerable after Parfait’s sauna heat. They snuffled their snout across Rory’s chest, giggling drunkenly before holding him further away from his face for inspection.

“You’re just drenched in me, sweetheart,” they gushed. “And you already look like you’re about to blow.”

Rory’s erection looked agonized. Stiff, twitchy as it was tiny—head puffed and red from edging. But he refused to finish himself off.

“Are you sure you need me to take even more?” asked Parfait. “I don’t even think I can fit out the door at this point.”

“Please.” The moaned word bubbled out before Rory’s pride could swallow it.

“How could I ever say no to such a sweet little pup?”

“Th-thank you.” In this feverish state, losing his size was the greatest privilege Rory could imagine.

“But yooouuu have to admit—”

“My size is yours!” He squeaked, not caring if that’s what Parfait wanted to hear. “Lick me to a crumb if you have to.” The air itself had become intolerably stale. Flavorless. Dry. He yearned for the atmospheric scent of his roommate’s crack. “S-so long as it means there’s more of you, every inch and pound of me is... is...” A hint of self-reflection returned to Rory, causing him to trail off. Too late, naturally. “I mean—” was all he managed before a finger covered his snout.

“Shhh,” Parfait hushed in their doting way. “No need to fuss. Let your great big pal Parf take care of everything.” Their maw hovered close. Ready. “And take everything.”

Sinuous pink blanketed Rory’s entire waist. Wet warmth soaked over his cock, touch alone threatening to make him cum on the spot. It lapped upwards, wider and heavier with each second of skin-on-skin contact.

He threw both hands over his crotch, but the rest of him remained fair game. Subsequent licks came to claim his body from him; he thrashed his scrawny legs as Parfait’s grasp grew more encompassing, kicking against their chin.

Disheveled to pink-dyed ruin. With each affectionate lick that ended at Rory’s face, mouthfuls of Parfait drool forced him to choose between sputtering or swallowing. More often, he preferred the latter.

As Parfait’s bowed head grew towards the ceiling, rivets groaned from the wall. The stall’s protracted protest reverberated with deepening distress. A giant’s poor efforts at a public tryst ended with a final violent crash. Stall walls roared off their hinges, mirror glass shattered—everything forced to make way for the wobbling spillage of Parfait.

No matter how much of Rory’s size they put on, they didn’t stop. Their intent remained singular, eyes crossed to peer down the length of their snout. Fixated on the diminishing amounts of moaning dog now using their palm as a pillowy bed.

Delicate Parfait had become a big brute. Their mighty tongue collapsed across Rory’s entire body in one go. Whenever it lifted, it revealed him as more drool than dog—saliva pooling around his limp body. Gathering in thick rivulets that glued him to Parfait’s immense palm like flypaper.

He flinched in anticipation of each lick. The wet squelch had become a boom, like being caught in the undertow of a tidal wave. But he remained unhurt. Only licked smaller. From feet to feed down to mere inches.

A reflexive flinch ran through him, but this time Parfait’s tongue didn’t arrive. Rory dared to crack his eyes through the veil of slobber, to see the extent of what he had given up. The sight sent a cold dose of sobriety through him. He hadn’t given up a lot.

He had given up everything.

The evidence sprawled around him: a plain of palm. Warm breeze gusted from overhead, where Parfait’s smile hung like the sky. A sound erupted from it, powerful enough to make an inches-tall dog shudder. Only when that sound subsided like a distant thunderclap did he match its bellow with Parfait’s girly, “Hi-hi-hi-hi.”

The maw roved away, replaced by a new sight. The mirror they shared for their competition had been obliterated by Parfait’s encroaching hip; one of the cat’s eyes supplanted the role. Its pupil tightened to focus on Rory; they were both looking at him in their own ways. The eye’s reflective surface showed a bug in Parfait’s hand. Smaller than a bug to someone who must have been close to 10’ tall.

“Can you get up from there?” Parfait boomed, and Rory’s movements proved to both of them that he couldn’t. “Aw… but how are you going to get off if you can’t even move?”

The question made Rory painfully aware of his neglected needs. He had since moved his hands from his crotch, and Parfait’s saliva cuffed his wrists to the palm ground. His squirms only elicited rumbling coos from the mountainous Parfait.

“Don’t worry,” they assured. Voice low so as not to obliterate Rory’s eardrums. The world blurred, his center of gravity reoriented with a tilt of Parfait’s palm. Held 90-degrees, yet he remained cemented to the palm—maybe dribbling a fraction of a fraction of a centimeter down each second. Caught in a molasses-slow stream.

Sweltering fog obscured the air, its sweetness palpable to the point that Rory might’ve tried swimming in this new atmosphere. Through the cloud of sugary sweat-steam, like islands through the mist, breath escaped him as he witnessed his destination.

No matter where he turned his head, Parfait’s ass lorded itself over its donor. Swollen to such a size that it became panoramic.

“It was really sweet of you to give up every drop of yourself, hon.” Parfait’s honeyed words rolled from the heavens. “What do you think? Though with that thing between your legs, I don’t know if you can think right now.”

Parfait’s cheeks blushed perfect pink in their current state. Radiant with heat and wider than football fields, each melting rivulet attracted Rory’s attention. By virtue of size alone, a single hemisphere tugged on his cock with gravitational force. His erection nodded every couple seconds, stroked by arousal alone.

“Nnnh,” Rory grunted, trying futilely to liberate himself. His dignity, his size—hell, he didn’t even know if he could grow back again—maybe his life. He had thrown it all away for a view of Parfait’s godlike rear, and now he couldn’t even touch it.

“I can feel you squirming back there,” Parfait said. “I bet this is the best and worst moment of your life. Gosh, I can’t imagine what it’s like. My butt is going to be your whole world from now on, Rory. At that size, almost literally.”

Rory’s chest shook with hitched breaths. He didn’t have an argument left in his soul. He wanted to leap off and splat down onto that world of fat.

“You can kiss it. Climb it. H-huff it.” An earthquake of a tremor ran through Parfait’s palm as they shook with excitement. “And when you’re done, I can stuff you right inside for safekeeping.”

“G-guh.” Rory was short-circuiting. Too much Parfait for his tiny mind to comprehend. His eyes darted in their sockets, trying to ogle one curve only to latch onto another.

“But first, you’ve just gotta do me one teensy little favor, ‘kay hon?”

Tension built through Rory’s muscles. Unable to move. Unable to touch himself. Unable to crawl across expansive acres of pale fat he had helped fill to their proportions. But his body yearned to do something. Fangs clenched. Drool leaking from his maw. The scent of Parfait’s ass, the constant badgering heat. The sheer oppressive presence.

“Cum,” Parfait told him, tiptoeing then dropping their weighty paws to the ground with a room-rattling boom. Glutes heaved together to deliver an incredible clap of flesh. The resulting sweat spray and impact breeze blew at Rory; he flinched—then came. Pathetic spurts shot into the distance, always falling short of their target.

Utter relief washed over Rory as he drained his balls of their last droplets. It didn’t last long. Not with realization on the horizon. Remembering what he had done. Who he had done it with. Where he was.

“That was a lot for a little guy,” praised his heavenly observer. “You’re probably all tuckered out after that.”

“My size?” Rory squeaked up. He couldn’t meet Parfait’s eyes. He could only see the horizon of haunch he had sold himself to.

“I’ll hang onto that for a while. You said it yourself: I wear it so much better. And, hey, you’ll have to think of a better nickname than shortcake now. I was thinking...”

Smack.

The world became an undulating sea of pink and white. Spanked flesh lapped at Rory, kept in-place by Parfait’s hand. It dragged down, lifted away—and when it did, Rory stayed behind. Pasted facedown in cheek flab. Cum-slicked crotch left to ferment against its intended recipient. Trapped to a square inch of the countless many that made up Parfait’s right cheek.

“...poundcake.”

The world—meaning his roommate’s right ass cheek—quaked violently with their every floor-abusing step. But Rory was plastered, easy to mistake for a fleck of debris. That’s what onlookers would assume of the fuzzy splotch as Parfait decimated a doorframe to debut their new self.

“Hello!” they boomed like their usual bubbly self... which they still were, only twice as tall, ten times as horny, and armed with an ass that could devastate a sofa. “G-gosh, look at you all, I didn’t mean to cause such a big disturbance.” Their octaves lowered, husky from excitement. “Buuuut since you’re all here… maybe you could help me with something? See, my friend just loves my figure. You could say he worships it.

“So could I borrow some of yours? It’s for a good cause. Promise.”