Chapter nine: Supersize Size Queen

"Grand Scrutineer, you need to see this!" High Phsycophant Qwaizoo's gills rippled in agitation as he spun in mid-air to address his superior. "There has been an unexpected development with the–"

The Craterisal second-in-command words tapered off and his waving eye-stalks froze in place when their prehensile gaze found the Head Researcher Extraordinarius swishing in his command pool with none other than the troublesome Flunky third class; Bhamme nestled companionably close beside him.

Well that was a serious breach of bridge protocol, Qwaizoo noted with a totally-not-envious curling of his lappets. It wasn't like he wanted to soak in the boiling methane or enjoy the helium jets upon his mucus membrane or anything like that. Moreover, he couldn't help but notice that their pseudopods kept brushing up against each other too and by the Prime Smack–may they remain ever gelatinous–that was simply inappropriate in a professional setting!

"Ah... my apologies, High Phsycophant. I was just showing young Bhamme here the mating rituals of the pygmy landviathans of Theta Vulponis VI." Grand Scrutineer Dhuussod demurred, nodding his cerebral bell towards his private photonic projector. "They are such a studious and inquisitive Flunky, but enough of that. What do you have to report?"

Studious? Bhamme? High Phsycophant Qwaizoo was certain the bumbling idiot wouldn't be able to find his own shtaaark-hole without the help of a star chart and a stellar navigation array. Coincidentally, the crew member in question already had their pseudopod tickling that same orifice as they stared with keen interest at the holographic images projected in front of them.

"It's, ummm... the Hootnam test subject, Grand Scrutineer." He began uneasily, tearing his eye-stalks back to the main transmission bubble. "He is in mid-copulation with a new female mate and has infected her with the psychotomimetic Decalopoid extract of compound x244-1d."

"Mid-copulation you say? Let me see, let me see!" Dhuussod enthused, a little too vehemently for the High Phsycophant's liking. "Ah yes, remarkable... This is very good data, Qwaizoo. Very good indeed, most stimulating! But not unexpected, so what about this new development has your lappis’ in a knot?"

"This, sir." The Craterisal officer brought up the blue biometric outline of the latest Hootnam female. The grotesque bipedal representation was heavily populated with dense clusters of red dots. "As you can see, the Decalopoidian genetic material excreted from the male test subjects, ah... penis is spreading and reproducing at an exponential rate unlike any we have previously observed."

"I believe I understand, High Phsycophant. Please change the display back to the real-time proceedings."

Did he have too? Qwaizoo and, he was sure, the rest of the bridge crew didn't relish the sights and sounds of the awful Hootnams smashing their dry, lumpy bodies together…

"Yes, Grand Scrutineer. As you command." He obeyed, repressing a flash of indigo indignation.

Shrill squeals, disgusting grunts and the disturbing slapping of hairy epidermises filled the starship bridge again, making the several of the crew burble in quiet revulsion. The Head Researcher Extraordinarius either didn't care or was too fixated on the scene playing out before his unblinking ocular stems to notice.

"As I suspected, the method of delivery has changed. Fascinating! Truly intriguing!" Dhuussod's gills flared in excitement. "This is the first recorded instance of vaginal intercourse involving a male and female Hootnam with compound x244-1d as the experimental variable. I must observe the outcome of this new phenomenon very closely. Kindly turn up the volume, if you please, Qwaizoo."

The High Phsycophant spared an apologetic glance for his suffering crew members. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable with his superiors' familiar use of his name without a stated official rank but did as commanded with a gelatinous shudder of disgust…

"Holy shit, Gwen! Your tight snatch feels fucking incredible!"

"That's right, Big Boy... ugh~! Own my boss bitch pussy and make it yours forever!"

Terry was riding his previously antagonistic employer like a Coney Island roller coaster. Much like the carnival ride; Gwen's visibly growing body was all ball-churning curves, smooth racy lines and tight angles as her wet clamping cunt twisted like a corkscrew around his preposterous profundity.

Or a cyclone; wasn't that what the iconic theme park ride was called... Why did he even care right now?

Events had gotten somewhat out of control.

Bernie, Gwen and himself were currently engaging in the fuck-a-thon of the century in the imperious manager's glass-fronted office, which was set like a sentry guard station high above the shelves and aisles of the corporate prison camp that was Ezyway Electronics. Anyone with a half-functioning pair of eyes or ears could look up and there would be no confusion of who was the source of the dick-mestic disturbance.

Terry had the mature cinnamon-haired hellcat bent over her desk, huge expanding tits pancaked against the glass surface, as he lanced in and out of her wondrous love-tunnel like a tournament jouster at the Renaissance fair.

There was good news and bad news in the given circumstance.

The good news was that his admittedly over-active and overgrown cock was safely buried in Miss Gwendoline's astoundingly accommodating depths. Securely tucked away from any prying eyes that might, consequently, become enraptured by its redonkulous rigidity and get stuck on Terry like insects in liquid amber.

The bad news was that they were all putting on one hell of an extremely loud public showing.

Bernie–in all her goliath sized glory–had his back covered. Her stupendous naked bosom rested atop his sweating skull like two tanned medicine balls and her broad hips locked in behind Terry's lean butt to **** his engorged enormity ever deeper into their boss's stretching slit.

"Gawd! Just look at her, Stud. That haughty old hussy is getting even sexier with every thrust." The Amazonian blonde gasped, grinding hard enough to give his nectar-soaked ass cheek pussy-burn. "Does she feel good? I bet she feels fucking amazing!"

"She does! Holy shit, but she does!"

Beneath them, Gwen's gym-sculpted figure was undergoing cosmetic refinement with each short spurt and jet of precum the spunk-hungry store manager squeezed out of him. The toned valley of muscles on either side of her bowing spine lengthened as cute dimples–tailor made for Terry to rest his clenching thumbs in–appeared above her lifting and tightening tooshie. Her long shapely legs were racking up extra inches by the second as her stylishly mussed bed head of glossy auburn hair extended in longer and thicker strands, spilling across the wobbly desktop like a spreading pool of dark treacle.

"This is... hyaa~! more than I'd ever wi-wished for." Miss Gwen stammered out between full body tremors that locked her vice-like channel down around his plundering megameat. "You're me-messing up my insides and ooomff~! ...crushing my g-spot fl-flat with that–nnrgh! ...beautiful bitch-splitter!"

If Terry were to use construction parlance; then he might have concluded that he wasn't hammering–neither was he nailing or drilling his screaming boss's spasming snatch–so much as he was SAWING her puffy pussy mound in half. He had to set his feet wide apart, one in front of the other in a fencing stance, as he rocked his entire hips and upper body back and forth in protracted lunges to work his ludicrous longitude into the squealing sexpot.

It was turning out to be hard, if pruriently rewarding work and Terry was literally up for the job. And honestly, he wasn't entirely certain Bernie would let him pull out if he wanted to. The powerfully athletic, seven and a half foot tall college dropout was practically using him like a human dildo to vent all her spite and sexual frustrations on her hard-nosed ex-employer.

"Do it, stud! Fuck her up good and proper then fuck me too! Make a mess of that prissy knobgoblin and fill her so full, she'll leak your hot baby batter everywhere like a cheap floozy!"

Gwen's accumulated gains in leggy height, expanding bust and elongating torso was taking a heavy toll on her carefully put together designer outfit. The already daring leopard print mini dress looked more like a broad belt of animal skin slung loosely around her tinyfied waist, and her ballooning breasts had exploded from the deep neckline of her black mesh top to prop the size-queen’s flailing head and shoulders up off the desk. Even her smoky nylon stockings had ladders running from the ankles of her high platform heels, all the way up to the garters securing the lacy tops of the hosiery in place around her immaculately slim thighs.

"That, I want that! What she said..." The one-time ice-queen of Ezyway Electronics growled her challenge through chattering teeth. "Stretch my bossy pussy into hnnph~! ...your shape. Mold me on your ginormous cock until I can't walk straight for ah-ah-ah weeeeek~!"

She thrashed in a violent climax as Terry rammed the entrance of her battered cervix like a SWAT team preparing to open a breach. He could feel Gwen's hot slickness bearing down on him and spraying his crotch with the wet proofs of her pleasure with every cunt-spearing penetration. It was like his massive size was forcefully displacing her internal juices out around their sealed sexes and the horny idea pushed him dangerously close to the edge.

"You ladies could at least pretend to be shy about what you want." He wheezed as Bernie's encircling arms threatened to squeeze all the air out of his lungs in her hip-thrusting excitement. "Fuck! Bernie, let me back up a step. I'm about to cum..."

“Don’t you fucking dare pull out, Terry.” Gwen snarled at him, wild eyes looking back over her shoulder through a sexy tangle of cinnamon hair. “I’ll make that stockroom… hyaa~ your second home if I don’t feel you blasting your spunky load and scorching my insides!”

“Ha! It looks like the old bitch still has some fire left in her.” Bernie cackled maniacally, slipping her hand around Terry’s waist to encircle his chunky base and pinch off his impending eruption. “You’re not calling the shots right now, Gwen. We are…”

“Fucking OUCH! Bernie, are you trying to burst one of my nuts?!”

“Sorry, Stud. This’ll only take a second.” The blonde giantess giggled, her apology somewhat tarnished by the way she kept shoving him in and out of the huffing haughty hottie. “Miss High-and-Mighty needs to pay her dues if she wants entry to the Magical World of Jizzneyland; the happiest place on earth. Now she’s had a taste of your big… thick… benefits package.”

She drew out the words in time with ludicrously long, slamming thrusts in Gwen’s abused cunt that rocked the glass desk on its steel frame and pushed the older minx’s hugely inflated whoppers over the far edge to swing pendulously in the air.

“Wha–whatever you want!” Miss Gwendoline half-pleaded/half-growled, her glorious new body going boneless under the exquisite ****. “Take the… oomph~ stupid store, I hate this fucking place anyway. You wa–want that money for your honeymoon? I’ve got it and more. Take whatever you like, just give it to me already!”

“Sold American! To the pretty old lady with spunk in her hair.”

Terry could hear the smug smile in Bernie’s voice as she finally drove him to the girthy hilt inside his ecstatically wailing manager and released her ****-grip on his enormously engorged erectitude.

“Holy shit!” He bellowed, as the agonizing build up of pressure released like a ruptured water main. “Thank yooouuuu~!”

The moment of relief couldn’t have come too soon. Terry’s balls had felt bluer than a smurf in winter and pounded like twin tom-toms before he emptied buckets of his steamy baby batter into the boss bitch’s bodacious body.

“Yes, Terence! Keep giving me… Nnnrgh~ every yummy drop of that hot load.” Gwen crowed in manic delight. “Show me what a big boy you are!”

He scrunched his eyes shut as a dizzy spell almost knocked him sideways. A few of his unblitzed brain cells quickly conferred and came to the tenuous conclusion that maybe they should save some blood flow for themselves instead of sending all of it south to the industrialized endorphin factory below.

Maintaining stable blood pressure was important too, don’t you know?

“That’s it, Stud, that’s it.” Bernie shivered against his back, clearly reaching her own peak as she sandwiched his dazzled skull between her humongous soft breasts. “Fill up that hot boss pussy, then get ready to fill me up too. Because I am going to ride that gorgeous beast like a tricked out motorcycle the first chance I get.”

Terry couldn’t find the words to object as he continued to emptied wave after molten wave of his potently transformative seed into Gwen’s sublime, supine form.

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