Tipping Blues - Part 2 (Random Writing for Lewderspy) (Patreon)

By that point, it was both hopeless and pointless to try and pretend things were fine, or anywhere remotely close to it. Her bra was barely there, she could feel her chest swelling after tapping into her arousal, and the amount of people coming closer to the front door was enough to get her to curse beneath her breath, only to place both hands over her mouth as if trying to capture the words before they floated too freely. Despite it all, Kurimi still managed to put on a brave face and a slightly-fractured smile, even when the person in the front of the line was very clearly not looking at her face.

A moment of awkward silence followed, where both of them tried to pretend like the obvious wasn’t happening. The customer, a kobold who needed to carry around a small bench just to reach the top of the counter, had her eyes darting between the engorged set of milkers in front of her and the tipping jar. On occasion, she’d look up at the poster, and it was obvious her mind was struggling to accept what was going on in front of her; the math was obvious, the result… not that believable. Maybe it was just a trick, an illusion, but it was one the ‘bold wanted to see happen.

Despite Kurimi’s weak protestations, the customer opened her wallet and dropped a twenty in the jar, taking care to do it as far away from the feline as possible while still technically holding her place in the line. The cat herself could do naught but stare as the bill slowly made its way down to join its brethren, there to mock her and make an already terribly embarrassing day even “worse”. She wanted to feel bad about it, but it was hard to do so when her brain was being told, in no uncertain terms, that she was supposed to be enjoying that to its fullest extent. Her tongue practically lolled out of her mouth when the next growth burst hit, leaving her feeling tight on the outside just as much as within, at least until the straps on her bra gave up and her bust was set free. Already it was flowing freely, small spouts of cream erupting from her surprisingly-large nipples, creating two small streams of milk that ran onto the ground in front of the counter.

Then, the growth. Or the filling, rather; whatever was happening to her wasn’t the usual, or perhaps it was just that, but magnified a thousandfold. It was hard to tell when she could barely keep her mouth shut or throat from making undignified noises; all Kurimi knew at that moment was that her breasts were swelling again, bloating with their bounty and taking up an increasingly large share of the space in front of her. She was sweating, shaking and felt an intense need to scream, and yet the words “stop” or “no more” seemed to be mysteriously vacant from her vocabulary, replaced with a dozen synonyms for “more” or “bigger”. Her sheer, unfettered embarrassment had peaked and then gone over, a stack overflow of milky proportions that sent her careening back to needing what was going on with her. If she had control of her voice, Kurimi might just have asked people to put money in the jar; as it stood though, she felt that cycling through the alphabet one and a half times was good enough..

For now, of course.

The kobold signalled for the next person in line to walk up, having decided to serve herself by hopping onto the counter and grabbing herself a cup from behind it, then just sitting underneath one of the milky waterfalls and enjoying a good drink, having figured that it was just normal for that place to work like that. Most of the people waiting to be served were either regulars who came at that hour or people who were otherwise aware of the cat’s proclivities for growth, hence why none of them were all that impressed or surprised at the obviously unsanitary display in front of them. In fact, given the context, they all probably assumed it was above board, hence why they seemed perfectly content with throwing even more cash into the jar without even thinking, the feline’s weak complaints not nearly enough to convince them to stop.

It was for the good of the establishment, after all.

There was no more concern left in Kurimi’s mind for actually doing her job; if people wanted to be served, they could grab a glass and get busy, much like the kobold under the counter did. If they wanted any food to go along with it, she excused herself and made up something about “running a special” that day, giving the folks in the kitchen a reason to watch as her bust continued to grow out of control. The rivulets of milk had turned into small spouts, arching slightly before splattering loudly onto the floor and making a mess of the place, while the counter itself groaned under the combined weight of who knows how many gallons of milk a whole lot of breastflesh. From her vantage point behind it, Kurimi could see it start to crack in multiple spots, though given how her breasts were already too large for her to see over them, that was the least of her concerns.

Then again, what was she to do? Moving from her place was impossible, as was getting anyone to help her do that; though the cat wasn’t actually carrying them, she could feel the weight of those milktanks just by trying to pull back on them, and knew damn well no one in that building would ever be able to lift them. And she’d be damned if she let anyone but the staff touch her bust like that. No, she was well and truly stuck there, unable to do anything about the constant influx of customers who thought it was funny to offer a comment or two about how stuffed she looked before dropping even more money into the tipping jar. At least the nominal aim of that thing was being achieved; there were probably a few hundred bucks there already, though it was probably going to go towards repairing damages and cleaning the floor.

Mostly the damage, given what happened next.

It all took place in such quick succession that, even looking back with the benefit of hindsight, Kurimi still couldn’t piece everything back together. In one moment she was fine (for a given value of “fine”), the counter was in its place, her bust was swelling faster than ever and the sloshing was getting overpowered by the odd sounds of wood splintering and something creaking heavily. In the next, not only was she on her knees, not only were her breasts on the floor, not only was the milk starting to pool over and around her… but the counter was gone. And she was almost certain she was going to have to pay that out of pocket; either that or tapping into the tipping jar, thus invalidating the whole point of that exercise.

If that weren’t enough, her chest was swelling at an increasingly faster pace, to the point where sizes she’d once considered to be her absolute biggest breezed by without a thought for what she might think. Kurimi was forced to watch as her bust began to concentrate most of her body mass, the rest of her being little more than a feline accoutrement on a pair of milk makers that dominated a large chunk of the diner’s floor. Her face was bright red enough that it could probably be seen in the dark, and for just a moment, she snapped herself back to reality.

“They’re… g-good lord, they’re so big,” she mumbled to herself, perhaps not as quietly as she might’ve hoped, “they have to be done growing right… right…?”

Kurimi was unsure who exactly she was asking that of. Perhaps part of her hoped that by verbalizing the thought then her breasts would stop growing. Perhaps most of her hoped that the exact opposite happened, even if she’d never admit to such a thing. Only one thing was for certain: she was no longer in control. Her body was the smallest part of her now, affixed to a pair of breasts large enough that she could use them as body pillow, too full to really be snuggled up against, too sensitive to even be touched. And yet she could do naught but touch them, rub them, press them, knead them, milk them, not knowing if she did so for the sake of emptying out or enjoying herself for as long as that growth burst lasted. Perhaps it was a mixture of all those things, and the cat had lost the ability to make sense of things.

Maybe she liked it. Maybe she wanted more of it. Maybe she pointed out that the tip jar was still intact. The only certainty was that of increasing weight, the mounting pressure and increasing amount of fluffy, overstuffed fur she had to splay herself on. To a certain point, she did worry about any damage that might’ve happened, seeing as the counter had broken underneath her, but it was slightly difficult to really care that much when one’s bosom was filled and swollen to the degree hers was, and when the many customers pouring in were already having to be careful not to move in front of her.

The milk wasn’t yet being jettisoned out of her tits, but that didn’t mean it was safe to stand anywhere near her; the ground was a complete mess of running cream, the drains were just then activating, and a few of the people around her began to wonder if there would be an end to the madness. Most of them probably assumed it was all part of a plan, given the announcement on the wall, but surely if it was nothing but a publicity stunt, then Kurimi’s face shouldn’t be as bright red as the tip of her ears, both of which were bordering on the incandescent, even shining through her sweat-matted coat of fur. Surely, if everything was under control, this employee wouldn’t be throatily moaning about how good it was to be so full, or how she wanted more, or a whole number of things that made the most impressionable among them start blushing almost as furiously as the cat was.

It was impossible to tell if the growth was being caused by the weird, self-feeding psychological effect of the tipping jar, assuming such a thing existed at all in the first place, or by her breasts having gone into full production overdrive mode. Very rarely did she lose control of them to that degree, and every other instance had been somewhere private, where the main perpetrator could at least help her milk herself down after they were done teasing her about their size and milkiness; in a public setting, not only did she not trust anyone to do that, but there wasn’t any convenient brake to stop her from just carrying on like there was no tomorrow. Not that the cat particularly cared, of course; every second introduced her to a new world of sensations she never thought achievable, in ways she’d never imagined and in the most direct way possible. She felt her spine being overloaded with confusing signals, the pain of having to bend herself to accommodate for her growing breasts mixing in with every neuron on their surface flaring whenever they rubbed against the floor or gained another inch. It clouded her mind and left it an incomprehensible mess, until all she could do was moan, pant heavily and gasp for breath, all while her weak, not-at-all genuine protestations turned into demands for a bigger, fuller bust, occasionally mumbled underneath her breath, mostly spoken loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

It had to end, though. Her body still had its limits, even if not in size; after enough time, her breasts simply grew large enough to be able to output about as much as they were making, creating this odd balance whereby they still tried to bloat to even larger dimensions, but found themselves capable of venting all of her excess cream. Not exactly the best for the lust-addled feline attached to them, but it gave everyone else in the room enough time to think about what to do next. They could carry on like nothing happened, accept that it was just a normal thing that happened in the establishment… or they could actively attempt to feed it even more; the tipping jar, against all odds, was still intact, despite having been shoved onto the ground a few minutes before.

So it was that whoever was left dug deep into their wallets, finding whatever cash they still had in there, and began throwing it into the glass container. None of it really did anything for Kurimi; her body had reached its apex, and despite her having surrendered to the notion that she would keep on growing forever, insisted on remaining stable. To say this was immensely disappointing would be an understatement; after several minutes passed with no changes to her breasts’ size whatsoever, a few of her patrons began to eye the tipping jar suspiciously, perhaps wondering if they could get away with retrieving some money off the top without anyone noticing, even if most were content with admiring the piece of art that was the cat’s bosom. Kurimi, meanwhile, was having an entirely different experience altogether.

Unbeknownst to everyone else present, the tipping was having an effect on her, just one that wasn’t immediately visible. Though initially she was too occupied trying to find where she left her ability to breathe properly, and then had to spend some time moaning to herself about how amazing it felt to have a literal bed of milky udders, she began to notice something strange, something she had never felt before. The pressure was still there, as usual, but there was something… more. A strength, a seed, building up inside of her, within each milky breast, growing greater in power while remaining the same, infinitesimally small size; it was an idea more than anything, an anticipation, the knowledge that it was going to do something. It took until those tiny pinpricks began to emanate large shockwaves inside of her for the cat to put two and two together, only then realizing that what she was feeling was another growth spurt… and a big one, judging from how much she was rumbling. It was odd that no one else seemed to see it, because those tits of hers were absolutely quivering and vibrating enough for her to feel it.

Not that it was the only odd thing she felt.

The sense of impending doom wasn’t circumscribed to her chest; while at first it might’ve been focused there, the same kind of budding pressure crash, the exact same mounting warmth turned to unbearable heat began to spread through her torso and towards her backside. Pitifully undersized compared to the mounds on her chest, part of her welcomed the change; would be nice to have an ass that was at least half as big as her tits, even if it meant tearing through her uniform. Wasn’t until the reality of the situation hit her that Kurimi began to actually panic: there wasn’t any room for her.

Frantically, she begged for her customers to leave, tripping and tumbling over her words before finding the correct sequence of noises that imparted upon them the urgency of getting out of dodge before her body went completely crazy. Many failed to understand, though they wisely decided to follow the minority that got the idea and ran as fast as they could towards the exit. Just in time as well; the moment the last person closed the door behind them, Kurimi allowed the floodgates to open, having been exercising the last remaining shreds of willpower to stop everyone around her from getting smothered against a wall.

… though that was an interesting thought.

That momentary distraction was all it took. Time ceased to mean anything as the monumental energy stored inside of her burst forth in every direction, coming in waves that each added so much size and weight to her bust and rear that even the feline couldn’t keep track of it. She was just vaguely aware of the sounds of the rest of the counter being turned into splinters, the chairs and tables scraping against the floor as they were pushed to opposite sides of the room, the shouting and screaming coming from behind her as the rest of the staff worked to lock every door to the backroom areas. The main dining floor was her turf now, hers to expand into and bloat over, to occupy and turn into her playground-cum-prison. And she was fine with that; so long as it kept coming, packaged in the overwhelming combination of pressure, pain and raw pleasure that it had been, she couldn’t care less.

Perhaps an hour had passed. Her growth began to falter, the spurt having run out of fuel sometime after she felt the room itself begin to press on her from every direction. One breast and cheek to one wall, the others on the opposite side feeling the exact same, the ceiling just barely grazing her body. She was locked in place, unable to move, squeezed on one side by half a room’s worth of tits, on the other by a similarly-sized volume of soft asscheeks. It was heaven for her, especially when everything in front of her was producing the most delicious, constant sloshing sound, smooth waves on a warm shore… except significantly more arousing, for one hopes to be obvious reasons.

The thought of getting out of there didn’t cross her mind. And neither did the issue of how her ass was going to be shrunk. All that mattered was it was finally over, and she deserved some rest.

A cat nap.