Fast Food

Erin was, on the whole, not particularly happy with her current situation. It was entirely her fault that she was in this situation, and she could leave it at any moment, but all that really just made it worse. The only thing keeping her here was a twisted sense of personal pride and she knew it and she still didn’t choose to just ignore it and leave. She had only herself to blame and she hated it, so instead she chose to blame Ursula.

“W-what did I do?!?!”

“You put me in the situation that led to me being in this situation, darling. Try to keep up.”

“I bear no responsibility for your poor life choices,” Ursula responded tersely. “If anything, I should be blaming you for making a bad situation worse.”

“Excuse you.”

“Yes! Excuse me! Do you want me to give you a point-by-point recap of how we came to be here? Because I will.”

“I’d like a point-by-point recap!”

Both of them sharply turned to the customer who dared to interrupt their bickering. “You stay out of this.”

“Yes, ma’ams!” he replied with a mock salute. Most fast food restaurants frowned heavily on the fry cook and cashier telling a customer to shut up while they had an argument over whose fault it was that they were working in fast food, but Burger Dictator was something of a special case. They treated the customer like a king alright, but historically a lot of kingdoms tended to end in popular uprisings and-slash-or revolutions. It was all play, of course. Just a sales gimmick – they weren’t actually going to execute their customers or anything, just be mean and surly at them and maybe throw them in the ball pit, depending on the situation. The point, such as it was, was that bad customer service was the point. Hence why the customer just sort of smiled at them. He probably came specifically because he wanted attractive women to be mean to him. If he didn’t, then he’d probably have gone to a different restaurant.

Not that there was actually much choice in Esterwood. There was Burger Dictator, there was Taco Dojo, you could get pizza or burgers or chicken tenders or other kids’ menu fare at the Arcade, and that was basically it for restaurants. At least for now. Until the dome got upgraded and the new Fabricatory got built there hadn’t been call for more restaurants than those three, but now that the population had started to actually match the amount of space it was only a matter of time before someone opened at least a couple more places to eat that didn’t require you to cook. And, by extension, it was only a matter of time until Ursula had other options for places to work so she could save up for a new PET.

“I simply do not understand why you don’t just get a regular model. The name brands don’t actually have any real features that you can’t get for free.”

“It’s the principle of the thing. I worked for months, in food service in Esterwood, so I could buy a nice PET, and then like weeks after I quit a certain someone decided that ‘hey you know what’d be a great idea if I were to take this thing that doesn’t belong to me without asking and take it apart and then use it as raw materials to build a new thing!’ So, yes, I am absolutely getting a nice PET. Which requires money, which requires a job. And then, naturally, a certain someone else decided it would be very funny to watch me apply.”

“Yes, yes.” Erin did not particularly want to think about where this conversation was going, but she also felt like she wasn’t going to have a choice.

“And you proceeded to make a bunch of snarky-ass commentary through the entire application process.”

“I am aware.”

“And then the manager hired you on the spot.”

“Mnf,” Erin grunted.

Ursula was, frankly, underselling it a bit. He had not so much hired her on the spot as he’d gotten onto his hands and knees and begged her to work the counter. “You have the potential to become the worldwide face of the franchise!” he had said. “A modern equivalent to legends like King Burger, or The Colonel, or Jack I. T. Boxx! People would speak of you in hushed whispers!”

Erin, obviously, had no particular interest in becoming a legendary fast food mascot. That was, she assumed, a very niche dream that only a few people in the world had. And she was not one of them. But, in the moment, with this man prostrated before her, weakly grasping at her leg and on the verge of tears, she had found herself utterly unable to refuse him. Now, of course, she regretted it, but... well, that just brought her back to the beginning. Misplaced pride and all that. Erin Leroux was many things, but a quitter was not one of them.

“Why not?” asked the customer, who Erin found increasingly obnoxious despite the fact that he had only said the two things to her. Again; looking for someone to blame, and he made it convenient. “If you don’t need the money and you don’t like working here, why not just quit?”

“That’s a very good question,” Erin replied tersely. “Here’s another very good question for you; why don’t you order something and then remove yourself from my presence? Or just the latter, I’m not picky.”

“What if I just order something and then don’t leave?”

“I’m a bit pickier than that.”

Erin was not expecting what happened next. The average Burger Dictator customer would, faced with that particular level of snarky barb, probably have just ordered their food. Anyone who knew what Burger Dictator was would not have been caught off guard in the slightest, and the very few who didn’t know what Burger Dictator was would probably have just taken her up on her desire for them to leave. Those were the only two outcomes one would generally expect to see – ignore, or leave. Maybe complain to the manager? At which point he would politely but bluntly explain the restaurant’s gimmick, the customer would go “ohhhhh, okay then,” and then ignore or leave.

This particular customer did not do any of that. Instead, he just started laughing. It wasn’t mean laughter or anything, either. The kind of laugh that comes from someone telling a really funny joke. Which she supposed was, in a way, not an inappropriate reaction. She had, in fact, told a joke. Sort of. In the most technical sense. Comedy had occurred. Just, you know, he was the butt of the joke. Usually people weren’t quite so good natured about that kind of thing, in Erin’s experience. It caught her off guard, though not quite so off guard that she couldn’t roll with the punches. And roll with the punches she did – as much as she did not particularly enjoy working at Burger Dictator, by god she was going to take the job seriously. “That doesn’t sound like an order, darling,” she said tersely, voice oozing with ice.

“Ha, sorry, right. Gimme a moment.” He went right back to looking over the menu, prompting an impatient groan from Ursula. Erin, for her part, slumped over the counter. Neither girl was particularly happy about the customer taking even longer to order, and neither was particularly shy about making that opinion visibly clear. The customer did not react to the clear disdain for his continued presence in their space, which was at least more normal for a Burger Dictator customer. Just, you know, ideally he would have not reacted but also got the damn hint and leave, but instead he just kept reading the menu.

Who even was this guy, anyway? He wasn’t a local, Erin was pretty sure on that front. Esterwood had absolutely seen an influx of people in recent months, Erin wasn’t gonna deny that. But it was still small enough that she would recognize most people who weren’t outright new faces. And, to be fair, this guy did seem familiar. But not as a local, that much she was sure of. Maybe if she were in a bit of a better mood she would be more able to put her finger on where she recognized him from? Or if she just sat back and looked, rather than just quietly grumbling about it.

He was short – not the smallest person Erin had met, but still about a foot shorter than Ursula and noticeably shorter than herself as well. A reptile of some sort? Erin wasn’t familiar with the exact subtype off the top of her head but he was definitely some sorta lizard. Green scales, with darker green splotches kinda like freckles and blueish green spines, the same colour as his eyes. He was wearing a white tank top that just about covered his chest and nothing else and red shorts that similarly didn’t actually cover all that much, straining especially against his ass that wasn’t the biggest Erin had seen but that wasn’t a fair comparison because she was friends with Miranda and Renee, who collectively had enough ass for all of Esterwood. It was still large and perky and not covered by a whole lot of clothing. Fairly standard outfit, though Erin’s tastes in fashion had always trended towards a philosophy of “more is less.” Cover everything, but do so in a way that showed off more than if you didn’t cover anything. Still, she wasn’t going to complain. He wore it well enough, though she wasn’t quite sold on the red headband with goggles built in.

“Do you perhaps have nowhere else to be today?” she said, after frankly longer than she was willing to tolerate.

“Oh, I’ve already decided what I want to order,” he replied, still looking over the menu.

Erin grimaced. “Then why have you not ordered.”

“Gropey still needs to decide what he wants. Duh.”

“... Gropey?”

Erin immediately came to regret her words. She learned what Gropey was, and in the process learned that she did not want to know what Gropey was. A small, green, living snot bubble with a yellow eye floating inside of it that leaped out of nowhere to attach itself to her tits, prompting her to recoil and scream. “Eeeeaughgetitoffgetitoffgetitoff!!!!!!!!”

“Oh, hey! He likes you!”

“Yes well I do not like him,” Erin replied, stumbling backwards into the wall as Gropey clung to her underboob for his life.

“What are we screamin’ about, anyway?” Ursula said, leaving the kitchen to see what the commotion was all about. She took a moment to take in the spectacle of Erin squirming and grabbing at the disgusting slime creature in a futile attempt to get it off of her. “Oh,” was what she imagined.

“Don’t just stand there, get this thing off of me!!!!”

Ursula shrugged. “I dunno, he’s kinda cute.”

“What do you mean he’s cute he’s made of living snot!!!!!!”

“Exactly! Cute!”

“Ha, she gets it!” the customer interjected, and Ursula slid over to give him a high five, a gesture that Erin did not appreciate in the slightest. “I’m Max, by the way.”

“Ah, I thought I recognized you. You’re with Echelon, right? Koralo’s host?”

“Yep!”

“Ursula, Delphi’s host. Actually, I think we might’a met at some point? But it’s nice t’get a proper one-on-one intro.”

The two exchanged a fistbump while Erin continued to squirm against the wall. Gropey was cold and wet and very intent on living up to his name, thoroughly. She wasn’t sure whether it would be better or worse if he was warm, but she was sure that she wanted him off of her before he got any more touchy-feely than he already had. And, frustratingly, neither Max nor Ursula seemed inclined to help.

“You know what, Gropey?” she muttered, prompting a wet gurgle from Gropey in response. “I think that perhaps I am going to quit this job after all.”
Dick the Halls

Evangeline Morris had what was probably the most interesting job out of all the girls at the Hole in the Wall. Or at least a contender for the most interesting job. You could probably make an argument for the admin staff, but Angie maintained that their jobs weren’t that far out of the wheelhouse of the ordinary. It was only the context that they were doing administrative work for prostitutes that made it feel weird. It was the actual prostitution that was out of the ordinary. Chicks with dicks, boys with boobs, macro and vore and tentacles and all that nonsense. Angie engaged in her fair share of that side of the business, of course, but in her opinion it was all still relatively accepted. Not exactly stuff you did every day, but the kind of thing that would just get you a weird look at most.

Angie’s specialty was a bit more... niche. The kind of thing that some people who maybe spent a bit too much time on twitter dot com would get very angry about, despite the fact that every involved party was above eighteen – well above eighteen, in Angie’s case. She had been over eighteen for eight hundred and fifty five years, thank you very much. It’s just that, you know, when life gives you lemons you make lemonade. And when life makes you four and a half feet tall with tits that reach your knees, you go into a career roleplaying as an oppai loli for rich pedophiles under the stage name Purity Alba. Y’know, as you do.

Purity did not exactly view her regulars in the highest regards, for the most part. Some of them, a surprising amount actually, were just into shortstacks. They liked short adults with big tits, and she was pretty much the only prostitute at the Hole whose default size was below six feet. Your options on that front were her if you wanted a girl and Leslie if you wanted a boy. But most of her customer base (and Leslie’s too, of course) wanted her to pretend to be underage. It made her feel just a bit gross, but it paid the bills and then some. The way she saw it, if they were paying exorbitant amounts of money to sleep with her, then they weren’t spending that money on actual children. And if they ever did decide to go for the real thing, well. There was an unspoken rule at the Hole that you weren’t allowed to name your customers. But there was also an unspoken exception that if anyone got even an inkling that you were hurting actual children then all your dirty laundry got broadcast as loudly and publicly as Azure Dreamer could fucking manage, fuck you.

Of course, no one had yet been stupid enough to make them have to pull that trigger. The Hole in the Wall offered a way to discretely fulfill just about all of your pornographic fantasies, and no one wanted to be the guy who ruined that good thing for everyone. Azure had a List of people who had hired Leslie or Purity and hadn’t had them act their age, and everyone knew it.

So, that was Purity’s work life. Her life outside of work, meanwhile, mostly consisted of explaining to strangers that no she was not in fact a middle schooler. So she spent a lot of her free time at work, even if she didn’t particularly need to. Even during the holiday season. Fuck, especially during the holiday season. You could only make the mall Santa viscerally uncomfortable by pressing your fat tits into his arms incidentally while sitting on his lap so many times before it lost its novelty. And all the various friends she had outside of work were generally busy, like, engaging in the holidays. So were most of the friends she had inside of work, more than you’d think given the average employee of the Hole. A surprising number of them had family they wanted to spend Christmas with.

Tiff was not one of those. Not really surprising. No one was entirely sure what Tiff’s deal was, but she didn’t seem to have any family. Not super surprising that she was lurking in the Hole, waiting for an opportunity to cause problems on purpose. “Hi, Purity!”

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

Purity pinched her nose. Yes, strictly speaking, Tiff had not in fact said anything just yet. That much was technically true. But she didn’t actually need to say anything for Purity to know that she was up to no good. Tiff was usually up to no good, was the thing. She had an extremely high capacity for shenanigans for a flower. Usually the greatest extent of the problems a flower was capable of causing was wilting after a few days when you’d really rather they last at least a month. Turned out that giving one legs and manual dexterity and a significant libido resulted in, well, Tiff. A creature of impulse, driven by base instinct and hedonistic desire but also deceptively clever. Again; usually she had some kind of trouble in mind.

In this particular case, however, it was a bit more obvious. “You’re decorated.”

“Of course I am! Christmas is just a week away!” She had, somehow, changed the colours of her petals. Apparently that was a thing she could do. Normally they were various shades of pink and purple, but for the holiday season she’d gone for a dark red for the corset, bustier, and arms, with green sleeves shoulders and skirt. Or, you know, “corset” and “bustier” and et cetera. Her clothing was actually a part of her body, hence Purity’s quiet bafflement at Tiff changing the colours. Apparently that was something she could do? Her “hair” was also red, and the little antenna thing that Purity was pretty sure was actually a tongue had a sprig of holly on the end.

“You’ve got Christmas lights wrapped around your ass.”

“I have Christmas lights wrapped around a lot of things!”

“Don’t think I’m not picking up on the euphemism there.”

“You decorate trees for Christmas, that’s just a tradition. I don’t make the rules.”

“You’re also not a tree.”

“Yes well I’m the closest thing on the premises.” That was, in fact, true. Another thing you don’t realize about giving a flower the ability to move on its own power and the capacity for violence is that plants are generally very, very territorial. Tiff liked to use that capacity for violence on any and every other plant that entered what she viewed as her territory – which meant that the Hole was conspicuously lacing in any kind of decorative foliage, and never had even a plastic Christmas tree. Luckily(?????), Tiff was more than willing to fill that niche.

“Of course, there’s still one decoration I need to put on the tree, which is me.”

“There it is.”

“You gotta put an angel on top of the tree! Those are the rules!”

“Sometimes you put a star on top.”

“Yes, well, until you can point me to a star I can fuck we’re gonna hafta go with the former.”

“I take it there’s nothing I can say to dissuade you?”

“Nope!”

“Yeah I figured.”

This had, in a weird sort of way, become kind of a tradition in its own right? Every year, Tiff would decorate herself and then go find Purity and then, well. Three guesses what happens next, first two don’t count. Really, if Purity really objected, she could probably beat Tiff in a fight. Tiff was strong, yes, but so was Purity. And unlike Tiff, Purity actually knew how to fight, and had the ability to summon a big sword made out of fire. She wasn’t going to, though. Not because she wanted to fuck Tiff, though she didn’t exactly not want to fuck Tiff either it was just the whole weird setup was offputting. The problem was that if she started a fight with Tiff they’d both get in trouble. It was best to just go with the flow.

And right now, the flow was retracting her petals. That was a pun that worked better in her head, but right now Purity was focused on Tiff’s stem. Or stamen. Or whatever euphemism you wanted to use for her big plantcock, which was also somehow red instead of purple, and was in fact encircled with yet more Christmas lights.

“Can you at least take those off first? They’re not very comfortable.”

“Nope! The Christmas lights stay on during sex!”

“If any of them short circuit inside of me again I’m going to prune you.”

“Y’said the same thing last year! And yet here I stand, unpruned and unbothered!”

“Yes well, given the precedent, we’re both about to get very bothered in short order, so can we get on with it? I’ve got places to be.”

“No you don’t.”

“I’ve got Mall Santas to bully!”

“Usually by this time ‘a year you’ve exhausted the novelty.”

“... Okay, yes, but-”

That was the point when Tiff elected to actually get on with it, because of course she didn’t do it when Purity was ready for it.

It was easy to forget, but Tiff was in fact very large. Especially in comparison to Purity, who was very small. She was, from Tiff’s perspective, exceptionally portable. Easily lifted up and then slid down Tiff’s cock like she was an onahole. She was also smaller than Tiff’s cock, naturally, but strictly speaking she was more Magic than Meat so that wasn’t something that needed to be rectified as much as it would if she wasn’t an angel. It still resulted in a sizable bulge in her abdomen, right between her tits – which Tiff, naturally, grabbed and began to use to titfuck herself through Purity’s body. Which was actually really hot and Purity would be a lot more into it if it weren’t for the fucking lights poking at her insides.

And not in a sexy way like a barbed cock did, they were made of glass and also they were hot. It was mildly uncomfortable. But also, thankfully, it wouldn’t be mildly uncomfortable for much longer. Not because Tiff was gonna take the lights off, no, once Tiff got a bad idea in her head she would cling to that bad idea forever. Rather, it was because Tiff proceeded to cum, copiously (of course it was copious), and inflated Purity like she was a balloon with fat tits.

If only this were the end of it. A quick fuck in the hallway would not be objectionable in the slightest. But this was Tiff, and Tiff didn’t ever do things in half-measures, or even whole-measures. “Quickie” was not a word in her vocabulary, and so she kept right on fucking and filling while loudly humming Deck the Halls. Although she probably wasn’t thinking “deck.”

“Merry Christmas!” she said, in between orgasms.

Purity sighed. “And a happy fuckin’ new year.”
Maximizing Milk

“Alright. Are you... Are you sure you want to do this, honey?”

“I’m one thousand percent sure.”

“Right.” Bonbon did not sound particularly convinced. “It’s just... You know. You’re already a Lot.”

“Yeah but I wanna see if I can be more.”

Bonbon got it, sort of. Being as big as they were was mostly inconveniences, she wouldn’t lie about that. But in a weird, fucked up kinda way, those inconveniences were... kind of hot? She couldn’t quite put why into words. Or, well, no, that was a lie, she absolutely could put the why into words, it just made her sound like a sex-crazed degenerate. Every little bump and jostle to Lyra’s torso-dominating titties as she tried to fit through doors designed for people a quarter as wide as her, every daily struggle to get Bonbon’s three-and-a-half foot trouser python into her concealer panties, every little hassle just served as a reminder of how big they were. Absurdly, impossibly huge. Just gigantic, so fucking big.

“Okay. Just... We’re sure this isn’t going to cause Problems in the long-run, right? Like, you’re not gonna get permanently bigger? Or start some kind of permanent infinite growth spiral? Or something?”

“Pfft, it’s fine.” Lyra waved dismissively, which was kind of wild when Bonbon really thought of it. These were some pretty serious potential ramifications, and here Lyra was just sorta waving them off. Apparently, Lyra picked up on that, because she proceeded to clarify. “I made sure to check, and the glandular disorder I have isn’t whatever Derpy has goin’ on.”

“Okay well thank Celestia for that.”

“I promise you, I wouldn’t have even considered these particular shenanigans if there were a chance of, yanno, that.” She grimaced. “Hot as the idea is, I don’t want to be the pony who unleashed a second Derpy Hooves on Equestria. That’d be some apocalyptic shit. And I really don’t want to end the world with my tits.”

“Derpy might.”

“Yeah well Derpy is a crazy pony.”

“Yes. That’s part of why I was worried.”

“Well, don’t be. When I said that I got my hands on every lactation increasing supplement I could find, there was supposed to be the unspoken implication that Derpy Milk wasn’t included in that category.”

“Good.”

“I also made sure to vet ‘em thoroughly, just in case any of them are secretly Derpy Milk. Twilight helped with that one. Turns out a lot more than you’d expect were, in fact, secretly Derpy Milk. Because, again, Derpy is a crazy pony.”

“Right. And you’re sure you got them all?”

“Yeah, we quadruple checked ‘em, on like a microscopic level. If Derpy could manage to sneak herself through all the shit we put these supplements through, then she’d probably just skip the middle-man and go right for the water supply. She hasn’t done that yet, so we’re as safe as we possibly could be.”

“Right.” Bonbon couldn’t help but worry. She’d always been an anxious pony at the best of times, and ‘Lyra decided she wanted to do everything in her power to maximize her milk output because it made her horny’ was not the best of times. It was probably fine. Derpy’s milk hadn’t yet made anypony else into a constantly growing infinite milk factory, but most ponies didn’t already have glandular disorders that made their tits the size of beach balls and constantly lactate. Better safe than sorry.

The plan, such as it was, was very simple. Step one, already finished, was to gather up every single means and method for increasing lactation that existed. Spells, supplements, potions, special massages, pressure points, everything. Step two, also already finished, was the vetting process. Thoroughly checking everything they’d gathered and then discarding anything that didn’t work or would turn into poison when mixed together or was permanent or else just wasn’t practical (Lyra obviously knew that getting pregnant would increase her output but she was obviously not anywhere near ready to take that particular step, especially not just because she got horny). Which brought them to now. Step three; the obvious. “You ready, babe?”

“I should be the one asking you that. You’re the one who’s going to be intentionally overdosing on lactation supplements. Among other things.”

“Well, you’re the one whose had to learn like eight different Lactation Pressure Points.”

“Four. Don’t be dramatic, dear.”

“Still! You went from not knowing any massages to knowing multiple different specific places on my back where if you stick your thumb really hard it’ll make my boobs temporarily bigger.”

“I actually got shiatsu certified.”

“... wait, seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“When.”

“In my free time. The point is that you aren’t going to need to worry about anything on my end.”

“Huh, well dang. I’m gonna hafta get you to give me a proper massage after all of this.”

“That was actually the original plan, believe it or not. You’re always complaining about back pain and fatigue, soooooo-”

“Aw, well, that’s very romantic of you.”

“How about you?”

“I’ve got all the spells down pat. Twilight was weirdly accommodating about letting me practice on her, considering how she usually gets about this kind of thing.”

“She’s probably just glad that we’re being responsible about it. Usually when it comes to this... you know, this kind of thing, she’s the one who has to clean up when it inevitably gets out of control.”

“True, true. I bet she appreciates us putting in efforts to keep things manageable.” Lyra steeled herself. “Okay. That’s enough faffing about, then. Let’s do this.”

The whole ordeal was very carefully coordinated. Lyra and Bonbon were genuinely serious about not letting things get too out of hand, after all. First was the supplements. A lot of supplements. Lyra took them, one at a time, following the directions about as exactly as was possible given that none of them were designed with being taken with about three hundred other supplements in mind. That was sort of the inherent problem, really; no matter how much effort they put in to ensuring that things didn’t get out of control, the fact of the matter was that no one had tested what happened when you mixed all these different pills and potions and spells and et cetera together. All they could really do was mitigate. Twilight had helped with that, too. There were a variety of magical contingencies in place that neither Lyra nor Bonbon actually understood that would, apparently, help keep things from spiralling out of control, especially once they got horny enough that they started to want things to spiral out of control. They would also, according to Twilight, help ensure that, when things did eventually spiral out of control, they wouldn’t cause any lasting damage.

Hopefully.

After taking the pills came the potions. The real difficulty, Lyra came to realize, was the sheer amount of liquid intake the endeavour required. Each and every one of the pills required her to take it with water, after all. And there were a lot of pills, which meant she drank a lot of water, followed by all the potions which were... well, not water, but still liquid. Lyra remembered reading somewhere at some point that too much drinking could kill you, and not just from alcohol poisoning. Of course, you could die from too much of just about anything, so that wasn’t really too hard to believe. If anything about this was gonna kill Lyra, mixing medications was gonna get her long before overhydration did. And if there were any danger of that, then Twilight would one hundred percent have told her.

By the time Lyra was done with the potions, she found some small amount of concern creeping in from the corners of her mind. She was not, it appeared, alone in that regard, either. “So... you feeling anything, yet?”

“Nope.”

“Well. That’s... fine, probably.”

“Maybe all of them just cancelled each other out?”

“Or they just haven’t kicked in yet.”

“Or the other shoe is about to drop at any second.”

“Yes, well, I’m trying not to think about that possibility.” That was sort of the inherent issue. Yes, they were certain that none of the supplements or potions would react with any of the others to result in poison. But there was only so much that even Twilight Sparkle could manage without actually testing things. Which was basically what they were doing right now, in a weird sorta way.

As though anyone else was ever going to do this again. Even for Lyra and Bonbon, this was probably a one-time thing. So, unfortunately, they had no choice aside from just... sort of going with the flow. Figure things out as they came and hope nothing exploded. Except, you know, in the ways they were supposed to explode. The fun ways.

“Let’s- let’s just keep going for now.”

“Yeah. Next is pressure points?”

“Yes.” Another thing they had both collectively noticed about this exercise was how expensive it was. All those pills and potions cost money, as did the tools for cleaning up after the fact. But the most surprising expense was the massage table. Lyra had expected buying a massage table to cost a few thousand bits. Expensive, but not bank-breaking. But then they’d actually gone out to buy the thing and had been brutally reminded that the average massage table was not built with a pony with beachballs on her chest in mind. Beyond the obvious logistical issues, there was also the fact that Lyra was a lot heavier than the average pony of her height, just by virtue of her fat tits. And, if things went as planned, she was probably gonna get bigger.

So they’d had to splurge on a custom-made massage bed. It had two slots in the sides for her tits to go through, which were designed to expand with her without impacting the structural integrity. It was also reinforced several times over, so that it could hold a pony significantly heftier than Lyra’s starting weight, plus Bonbon. Because, frankly, this was the bit where things devolved into sex. They’d gone into this knowing that this was the bit where things would devolve into sex. They were both naked and well endowed and married and, if things went as planned, Lyra would have bigger tits than ever. And then they were gonna have Bonbon get on top of Lyra and crawl all over her to stick her thumb in various places on her back in an attempt to make ‘em even bigger than that. Which, given the sheer size of Bonbon’s own endowment, meant a lot of wiggling and finagling with a big penis on top of her. They were both already kinda horny, and the weight of Bon’s cock on Lyra’s back wasn’t helping in that regard. She could feel the standard feelings welling up deep in the pit of her stomach.

And then Bonbon hit the first pressure point, at which point Lyra realized that oh no that wasn’t Horny, it was the supplements and potions kicking in. That, or whatever lactation and growth inducing pressure points Bonbon had learned from her shiatsu certification courses were very, very, very effective. Explosively so. Like, a part of Lyra was a bit disappointed that there was no slow buildup, no real time to enjoy getting bigger. But, well, on the other hand, she’d been kind of expecting it to be explosive when it actually happened. That was kind of the whole point of taking Every Temporary Breast Growth Supplement At Once. If she wanted to enjoy a slow growth she’d probably have just asked Twilight to cast a Slow Growth Spell on her.

Besides, there was definitely an appeal to her breasts suddenly and abruptly doubling in size. “Welp, there goes any chance of me walking anywhere for the foreseeable future.”

“Dang, they’re lifting the bed off the ground.”

“Yeah speaking of which, uh... how’m I supposed to get out of this?”

“Well, I mean, you’re not. Not until you’ve shrunk back down enough to be able to walk, at least.”

“Mnf.”

“Annnnnd, in the meantime, I’ve got you all to myself!”

“Yeah there it is. You really are insatiable, you know that?”

“So do you, that’s part of why we ended up together.”

“Yes, yes, I am aware. Finish with the pressure points and then let’s get on it.”

“I’ll be the one getting on you, really.”

“You’re already on me.”

Bonbon jammed her thumb into the next pressure point, which was another doubling in size. Enough to lift the bed off the ground. “Okay, babe, this feels really good, but it’s gonna be hard to put it in at this rate.”

“oh no whatever will I doooooooo~” Bonbon said as she hit the next pressure point and, with a wet sloshing sound like overfilled water balloons, Lyra’s tits doubled in size again. Technically by this point they’d octupled overall, she supposed, though obviously she wasn’t in the right headspace for math. They felt tight and full and big and sloshy and very, very wet. That was the result of their own sheer weight resulting in them milking themselves. Which was, it turned out, really fucking hot. “One more~” Bonbon cooed, before pivoting her hips back and then forward, sliding her cock in between Lyra’s tits and her body. “Oh fuck that’s tight.” Lyra did not need to be told that it was tight. She could feel exactly how tight she was. Every contour of her medial ring and flare, every throbbing vein, every pulse of precum. Like the Princess and the Pea but with a penis. Or something. If Lyra wasn’t in the right headspace for math, she was definitely not in the right headspace for metaphor.

And all this was before Bonbon hit that last pressure point. There was a loud snapping noise as the custom-made massage table hit the breaking point. Thankfully that was actually intentional. It was designed to break cleanly when Lyra reached a certain size, rather than injure her, and in such a way that they could just snap the bits back in place. Not that Lyra was really thinking too hard about the fucking massage table, that was something that had been on her mind before her mind got washed away by a flood of white.

“And now,” Bonbon practically whispered into her ears, “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

“Mnffffff, no teasing.”

“I have no intention of teasing you, dear. This was the foreplay, it’s time to move on to phase four.”

“... since when was there a phase four?”

“Oh, there was always a phase four, you just weren’t in on it. See, there’s one other thing I wanted to try to maximize your milk. You were against it, but I feel we’re very much ready to take that step.” Lyra felt a sense of quivering apprehension, though that might just have been horniness or the rest of the milk supplements kicking in. Regardless, she couldn’t quite bring herself to complain, even as Bonbon pulled her hips back again, pressing her flare against Lyra’s wet pussy.

“I hope you enjoy becoming a mom, Lyra Heartstrings,” Bonbon purred as she slammed her hips forward. “Because I’m very much gonna enjoy becoming a dad~”
Vicky’s Spa Day

Vicky Ares was, on the whole, not at all a trusting chocobo. That hadn’t always been the case, of course. Growing up, she was eager to interact with people and make friends and engage in various social activities. That kind of thing. She was an extroverted and athletic chick, and then one day puberty had hit and things got weird. Inevitably – there was just no way to maintain normal social relationships when you had a birdcock bigger than most of your friends. Racing was out of the question. Most of the social activities she used to enjoy were out of the question. Its sheer size just got in the way. And that was ignoring the elfadunk in the room that was the sexual aspect. It was hard to have a normal relationship with someone as... well endowed as Vicky was, especially when you factored in, you know, other things. Little Vicky was a very active horsebirdcock at the best of times, and it was also very sensitive to its surroundings. She got horny a lot, and very insistently horny at that. Much to her chagrin. It didn’t take a lot to get her up, and once she was it did take a lot to get her back down. If whatever person she was hanging out with had the gall to be even kind of cute then she ended up having to excuse herself every few minutes (a generous estimation if she was honest) to go milk herself.

Also, it tended to get... hungry. Not through any fault of her own, mind. If she had her way, it would not only not have that habit, but it would probably be a good deal smaller. It just sort of had a mind of its own sometimes and while she maintained that it was not her fault, she also had to admit to herself that she couldn’t really blame her former friends for distancing themselves from her after the third time she produced a rubber filled with Stacy and frankly she was surprised it took Stacy that many rubbers, let alone the rest of them.

And, well, that was kinda that. Years passed and slowly Vicky found herself mostly alone. She still had Sophie, of course, and Lilly. A few others. But Sophie didn’t really fill that same niche, and by the time Lilly had entered her life Vicky had already been basically irrevocably ruined. That extroverted, friendly child had died, replaced by a sullen introverted grump. Also, much as she loved them, they were also kind of prone to sexually bullying her. A lot. A lot. Like, enough that most of the aforementioned trust issues were the result of, you know, that. All the sexual bullying.

So you’d forgive her for putting her walls up. “I’ve got a surprise for you!”

“No.”

Sophie drooped visibly. “Oh, come on, I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“You don’t need to say anything. There’s absolutely no way that you’re here for any reason other than to cause trouble.”

“I’m not here to cause trouble!”

“Have you ever heard of the boy who cried garm? It’s just like that.”

“I’ll have you know that I am very trustworthy,” Sophie replied with a huff. “I’m not always out to get you, you know.”

“No but that doesn’t mean I should trust you not to be.”

“Hmph! Well, then, I guess you won’t get to enjoy your all-expenses-paid spa day at Costa del Sol after all.”

“wait hold on what’s this about a spa day?”

Sophie leaned forward, grinning a nice big shit-eating grin. “I thought you didn’t trust me not to be out to get you?”

“Yeah well maybe y’shoulda led with the whole ‘spa vacation at Costa del Sol’ thing.” Vicky got up. “All expenses paid means all expenses paid, right?”

“Right.”

“So if I go for the most expensive spa course then you’ve just gotta take that financial hit on the chin.”

“All expenses paid, Vicky, I promise you.”

“I’m also gonna gorge myself on room service! Expensive shit!”

“All. Expenses. Paid.”

“Well, then, what the fuck are we waiting for?! Let’s get goin’!”

Vicky barged her way out of the barn, completely disregarding that she didn’t actually know where they were going aside from that the end-goal of the trip was Costa del Sol. Sophie couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia at the sight. It was like Vicky was a kid again, or at least how Sophie assumed Vicky was when she was a kid. Sophie was young enough that, for as long as she’d known her, Vicky had always been sullen and cranky and all those other traits that made her such a joy to be around. Sophie loved her elder sister very much, of course, but also she wasn’t gonna lie and say that she couldn’t understand why so few people liked her. And, well, there wasn’t really any fixing it long-term. She’d much rather her sister be herself than make herself miserable by pretending to be someone else.

So Sophie worked to make Vicky happy in her own way. Even if sometimes Vicky objected, that was mostly just for show. Sophie could very reliably tell when Vicky’s objections were posturing and when she was actually genuinely uncomfortable, and she would always stop what she was doing when it was the latter. And, of course, every now and then Sophie would do something for her older sister that she could openly enjoy, without having to worry about her pride getting wounded. Like, for instance, an all expenses paid spa vacation at Costa del Sol. Even if it was a bit expensive. That was fine – they made more than enough money to be able to splurge like this once in a while, between Sophie and Vicky’s... work.

And okay yes she wasn’t being entirely honest about the exact nature of the spa day, but in her defence it was very funny and anyway Vicky would definitely enjoy herself in the end.

Costa del Sol wasn’t exactly next door. This was never going to be just a day trip – it took a day just to get there. So, ultimately Sophie had elected to just make it a whole week of vacation. Otherwise they wouldn’t have had the time to enjoy it. Vicky wasn’t gonna look a gift chocobo in the mouth either way. They were actually in Costa del Sol, and by all accounts Sophie really had already paid for everything in advance. If she wanted food, she could just order whatever she wanted and it’d all be free. Or at least already paid for.

Not that she actually had particularly expensive tastes, of course. She was a chocobo, she ate greens, so it wasn’t like she was gonna order high-end steaks or whatever. Still, she made a point of ordering the more expensive Sylkis greens rather than her usual Gysahls. They weren’t all that much better, taste-wise, but they cost more than fifty times as much normally so she might as well while they were free. And nuts, too, normally you couldn’t even buy those at all! Score! Beyond that, there were various attractions that Vicky did not give a shit about, and various hot springs and massages and other spa treatments that she did. Once she’d eaten, she resolved to spend the rest of the week getting well and truly and thoroughly pampered.

Which was, of course, when the other shoe dropped. Vicky knew it was gonna, eventually. She’d just kinda hoped she’d be able to get a normal spa day in before it inevitably turned into a sex thing. She couldn’t even really blame Sophie for this one, or at least not entirely, because... Yeah, duh, Vicky was at least fifty percent penis, how were you meant to give her any kinda spa treatment without it devolving into a handjob. Maybe soak in the hot springs for a bit? That was about all that Vicky could really think of on that front.

The masseuse was, unsurprisingly, a large woman. She was always gonna be large in some way. Even without Sophie’s obvious intervention, the universe had a habit of conspiring against Vicky getting to keep it in her pants. In this particular case, reality had decided to be very generous and give her a woman who was just sorta big all over. She was tall, jacked, busty, and frustratingly attractive. Some sorta lion woman, or maybe a wolf? Maybe a Ronso? Or something similar, Vicky didn’t fucking know every single species in the world off the back of her wing. All she really knew is that she had red fur and no clothing.

Not that Vicky was one to talk on that front, of course. Most beastfolk didn’t bother with clothing, it was weirder to see one that did wear pants than one that didn’t. Vicky had her bandana, the masseuse had some gloves, and you generally didn’t see much more than that barring specific situations – like Lilly’s leotard. Still, that didn’t really help things. Knowing why the hot lion woman with large firm breasts and ripped abs was also not wearing any clothing did not change the fact that she was wearing no clothing, you know? “Take a seat, please, and we’ll get right to it.”

“Yeah okay.”

Of course, given that nudity wasn’t particularly unusual for beastfolk, the real sign that something was up was the big-ass box of condoms, which she placed within arm’s reach of where Vicky would be sitting. Not even slightly subtle about what was going down here. She pulled one out and tore it open. “I find that it’s very difficult to relax, if not outright impossible, when one is distracted. So, our first priority is to clear your system out.”

“Okay well good luck with that because we’re definitely going to be here a while.”

“Well, I’m told you have a week.”

Once again, Vicky found herself extremely thankful that she had feathers which hid her deep, deep, deep blush. Though the rest of her body language probably made it very clear that she was furiously embarrassed. The masseuse did not seem to particularly care – she was a sex worker, she was definitely used to customers getting embarrassed by sex work. She moved quickly and efficiently, sliding a condom roughly as big as a mid-sized airship’s main sail onto Vicky’s shaft.

And then she got to work and hoof. Vicky knew a distressing number of people who were good at working a penis bigger than some people, so it didn’t stand out as much as it maybe would have otherwise. But boy. Boy was it a lot. Her touch was firm but not too firm, hard in some places and soft in others, and very thorough. Impressively thorough given that it was bigger than she was, and she wasn’t at full-body-cock-massage yet (yet).

It didn’t take a lot more than that for Vicky to go off. Really, she’d always had kind of a hair trigger when it came to sex stuff. She made up for it in volume and endurance. Just one orgasm would definitely not satisfy her. Despite the fact that she came enough that the resulting condom was probably bigger than her and the masseuse combined. And that was without accidentally eating anyone with it (again). Hadn’t happened yet, but Vicky had no illusions that Sophie wouldn’t find some way to engineer that particular situation happening (again). That was for later, though. Or hopefully not at all? She would like to get the chance to actually enjoy her all expenses paid spa vacation in Costa del Sol rather than spend the whole damn time doing what she did at home. Even if, intellectually, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy her vacation without regularly emptying her tanks.

Speaking of which, the masseuse had already removed the used condom and applied another and gotten right back to jerking Vicky off. It was actually really impressive how efficiently she worked, though Vicky obviously couldn’t really properly appreciate it because she was already cumming again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Vicky felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, though that might also have been explained by cumming (again). But she was pretty sure it was, in fact, the horrific realization that the masseuse had not been exaggerating when she relayed her intent to drain Vicky dry. “Drink this.”

“Um?”

“It’s just a glass of water, with some electrolyte powder added in for extra hydration. You’ve got quite a lot of spunk in you, ha, and so we’re gonna have to work to counter potential dehydration.”

“Okay well it’s kind of hard to drink while you’re mmmmnnn doing that.”

“Just get as much in your beak as you can.”

Vicky tried her level best, and ended up spilling most of it all over herself, and not only was the masseuse not showing any signs of stopping, she had been joined by several other, equally attractive masseuses.

It was, Vicky realized with a sinking dread and another few climaxes, going to be a very long week.