Gym Partners - Part 1 (Patreon Commission+ for ShrapnelTheWolf) (Patreon)

TAGS: F/M, Hyper, Growth/Expansion, Hyper Growth, Cramped

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It was a productive day at the gym. Frost even managed to pretend like she knew what she was doing when it came to using one of the new machines without asking for help; not exactly rocket science, but there were a good ten or so minutes when she had to put on her best poker face when one of the personal trainers came around asking if she needed any help.

With her three hours done, the snow leopard picked up her things, shoved them into her duffel bag, then headed for the downstairs changing rooms. The stuffy, hot atmosphere of the gym proper gave way to the artificially cooled stairwell, before once again giving way to the oft-steamy interior of the showers; luckily for Frost, she normally left the gym before everyone else did, giving her the whole place to herself, and that day was no exception.

As she prepared to pull her sports top off, however, she heard a knock on the door, sending a jolt of electricity up her spine and forcing her to flinch hard enough to nearly slip on the polished floor. She didn’t know why; it wasn’t as if anyone who meant harm would go to the trouble of knocking first… but, then again, then the door opened and who she saw was most definitely not someone who belonged in the shower, her hair stood on end once more.

That is, until the shock wore off and Frost recognised who the person was: Shrapnel, one of the personal trainers at the establishment upstairs, still wearing their uniform and looking like he’d just sprinted down the stairs into the showers, so heavily was he panting. His eyes darted from one side of the shower room to the other, seemingly ignoring Frost entirely before noticing she was there, at which point he lunged forward and very nearly slipped himself!

“Sorry, sorry!” the wolf stumbled over his words as much as he nearly did over his paws, “You left something upstairs and someone was about to take it ‘cuz they thought it was theirs. Sorry for barging in, I uh… I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry, I’m just gonna turn back now and uh… oh heavens, sorry, I shouldn’t be he-”

Frost raised a hand, stopping Shrapnel’s words dead in the middle of his rambling. A cursory glance at his hands revealed what this mystery item was: a towel. A singular, measly towel, probably the same one she had bought earlier that day and fully intended to throw away by the time the week was out: obviously an excuse, rather than a sincere attempt at returning something lost; after all, who would bother taking a used a towel from the middle of a packed gym?

Yet, the wolf was actually trying to leave. Rather than forcing the issue or finding a sleazy way of keeping himself in that room, Shrapnel legitimately seemed to have regretted his actions enough to warrant a full one-eighty on whatever his plan was; only the snow leopard’s interruption kept him rooted in place, his expression a mixture of trepidation and the unmistakable look of someone who couldn’t believe their half-assed, missing-steps plan had actually worked.

Frost gave Shrapnel a once-over. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t given the wolf more than just a passing glance in the past; hard not to notice the one person in the gym that was not only a hyper, but a large hyper as well. There were even rumours the young man wasn’t exposing his full size, that the ground-dragging package and the person-sized sheath he had on him were not the full extent of his capabilities, but the result of him wearing compressor gear. No one dared ask him though; it was a social faux pas, and besides, no one had the guts to be that indiscreet, even when it was a constant point of discussion.

What was obvious was that Shrapnel was very skittish about the subject, and more often than not refused to talk about it, even when it was halfway relevant. Whenever the topic came up, he just smiled and nodded along, refusing to participate despite everyone’s best efforts, waiting for the conversation to head elsewhere before jumping back in; for him to so clearly be trying to approach Frost in those terms, then it was obvious, at least in retrospect, that he must’ve been harboring thoughts and feelings for far longer than the snep ever imagined.

In fact, he still tried to sneak away. Even when Frost motioned for him to stop, even when he had nowhere to go but to literally ignore her and leave the shower room anyway, the wolf still looked ready to slink away at the first possible opportunity; his eyes kept flying from the snow leopard to the door and back, sweat pouring from his brow as his mind worked overtime to come up with something to say, something to do that would break that horrible stalemate.

In the meantime, Frost was left looking at a poor young man who was so obviously out of his depth that it wasn’t even remotely funny. Not that it would be normally, but in some quantities, that level of adorkableness would make for a wonderful ice-breaker; there, however, it just left her feeling even more awkward, at least until she realised that, if not her, then no one else: she had to be the one to take the first step, and in doing so, get the ball rolling.

But not through words. Not through speaking or saying anything; words were cheap, easy to come by and easier to bullshit with. Actions, however, those spoke louder; being given such a wonderful opportunity to explore a side of herself that she rarely got to dive into, especially with someone like Shrapnel, it’d be madness not to exploit it to the best of her ability, doubly so given that the wolf was very clearly a step away from openly begging her to do so. Thus, she stepped forward: a single step, just enough to make it obvious what she intended to do, along with a wink and a smile, hoping to put Shrapnel at ease.

To his credit, the wolf relaxed… somewhat. His muscles weren’t so tense that one could break concrete bricks on them, but he was still flighty enough to look ready to run at the first sign of anything going wrong; it took a second step, and a curiously alluring wave of Frost’s hand, for him to get anywhere close to being okay with the proceedings, and even then all he did was fully turn back to face the snow leopard. The snep, who he’d put his job on the line for, chasing down a ridiculous pipe dream, and now proved to him that he was far more right about his instincts than he could ever hope for.

What followed next was… hard to explain. On the one hand, it was entirely natural: neither of the two did anything that their primal brains didn’t want to do, functioning entirely off instinct and whatever their muscle memory told them. On the other… well, this was true: subsumed into their subconscious animal selves, neither Frost nor Shrapnel really understood why they did anything at all; all they knew was that, one moment, they were several feet apart, and the next their warm bodies were making one another warmer still as they properly embraced for the first time.

It felt right. Like they should be doing it, like this had been such a long time coming that it not happening sooner was a travesty, a tragedy; when they felt their touch upon one another, their warm breath rolling down one another’s neck, their sheer presence, it was the same moment both of them knew and understood what they had been missing on for so long. And, this being the case, it only made sense that they should make good on all this lost time; who knew when next they would have an opportunity to explore their feelings for one another?

Frost’s hand met Shrapnel’s chest, pushing him onto the nearest bench where he landed with a soft thud and a grinding skid; the few wooden planks nailed a rickety metallic structure were no match for the sheer heft of the wolf’s body, not when his nuts had already begun to loudly overproduce, judging from the amount of gurgling taking place. Rips began to open in the large pocket he kept his package in, the size of his shaft becoming ever more evident as blood was pumped into it, in preparation for something that Frost was entirely unprepared for.

But she wasn’t going to stop. She knew what she was getting into, not stopping the wolf from leaving, and even if there was a significant part of her mind asking questions on whether or not she could physically take what Shrapnel had to offer, this part was easily ignored in favour of other, more delectable options: namely, the ones that involved seeing whether or not the rumours said about the personal trainer were true.

The snow leopard didn’t even wait, didn’t even bother asking if she was doing something dangerous; her hands immediately dove for the specialty shorts Shrapnel wore, hooking her fingers over the elastic band and starting the arduous process of pulling them off of the wolf’s body. Or, at least, seemingly arduous; she’d expected it to take a while, given how massive the canid was, but the moment she exerted the slightest amount of force, almost like blowing on a house of cards, the whole thing collapsed in on itself.

Exploded, rather, would be more accurate. There were a few moments when Frost got to appreciate what it was like to be face-to-face with an item of clothing facing imminent structural collapse: multiple gashes turning into even more as they tore through the fabric, the sound of aggressive ripping, the sight of flesh bulging from the holes. All of which preceded a complete release of Shrapnel’s more sensitive bits, as his package burst free from its containment.

Frost’s first impression was that it was, indeed, larger than it should be, given what was immediately visible at a glance. Her second impression was that it was significantly harder as well, knocking the wind out of her when that massive slab of cockmeat slammed into her chest and forced her back several feet from the impact alone. Shrapnel did call out for her, even raising a hand towards where the snep fell, but he was firmly stuck to his seat with the amount of weight that had just unfurled from his shorts.

Absolutely compressor wear, was what went through the snep’s mind when she recovered from the concussion. The first thing she saw when her eyes focused again was likely to be the biggest dick and pair of balls she would ever see in her entire life: with the shaft itself being about as long as Shrapnel was tall, and definitely wider than even the buff wolf, and two orbs underneath that could both offer enough room that she could curl up inside them and have plenty of space to stretch her arms and legs.

It was the kind of package that other people had. The sort of assets that one heard about, that always existed in this nebulous state of belonging to folks that one never actually saw; they were real, and yet, never quite real enough to be seen. For Frost through, those were definitely real: she had them right there, right in front of her, within touching range, just begging her to move forward a few steps and lay her hands on them, to feel their warmth, their solid mass…

… and, most of all, making it painfully clear she was absolutely not taking that monstrous cock without some expert assistance. Or at all, really; it was bigger than she was, far beyond what her body could possibly handle even with an unstable cocktail of enhancers coursing through her veins.

Not that this was going to stop her in any way, not when she had a package that size just taunting her from such a short distance away. If anything, it was precisely it being there and it being so magnificently oversized that convinced Frost that she had to take it, nevermind how impossible it was or how much her body just wasn’t prepared for that sort of strain. She saw it, she wanted it, and no one was going to tell her otherwise.

Especially not Shrapnel, with his nonsensical concern for whether or not she was “alright” or if she’d “knocked something” out of place. For the snep, her world was that cock, those two overproductive balls underneath, and the promises they kept; for the snep, as long as she could wrap herself around the former and drape her body over the latter, then she was in her own personal heaven, and nothing else mattered.

On the other side of the equation, Shrapnel was having a difficult time trying to convince himself that everything was fine. In between his almost-botched plan to get inside the showers to begin with, and him accidentally knocking his crush out cold for a couple of seconds when his compressors failed, he couldn’t just move on to having the snow leopard do… that. It felt wrong, like he had to apologise and have this apology accepted before he could move onto anything else; then again, Frost herself seemed to disagree, and she wasn’t the one stuck on her seat because her cock and balls were too heavy.

Unfortunately for the snow leopard, she might not be blessed with the same sort of oversized assets as her soon-to-be-lover, but she did have access to them, and this led to something of a burden of her own. Part of Shrapnel’s hesitation came from him having to explain what was going to happen; he couldn’t just blunder in and fuck someone silly without at least trying to tell them what the effects of exposure to his seed would be. He did try as well; emphasis on try, given that Frost was on him too quickly for him to get anything other than a whimper out.

The first change came when the snep, despite remaining blissfully ignorant of it, had four spots underneath her bust start to inflame; four spots, looking like they had a terrible rash, yet lacking in any itching, or indeed any sensory feedback, given that Frost had no clue they were there at all. Just a minute or two after they first appeared, the soft flesh around each spot began to swell outwards, pushing the initial upsurge out further and further until their true nature was revealed: while the two additional rows of breasts weren’t yet the same size as the snow leopard’s original rack, they were quickly getting there, and from precum alone as well!

Frost’s entire body was slathered in the stuff, enough so that she had a hard time holding onto that beast of a shaft protruding from Shrapnel’s sheath; he did try and help her, mostly by holding out his hands in a feeble attempt at making contact, but the snep was too busy slipping and sliding, failing to grab onto that cock like it was a massive tree branch, to really notice anything happening outside her immediate tactile experience.

It was a body pillow mixed with a space heater and every fantasy she ever had, rolled into a perfectly-formed package that she wanted nothing more than to knead, and massage, and grope, and lick, and do unspeakable things to while she could. Shrapnel should be careful; if he didn’t set some ground rules on what was and was not permissible, he would soon find himself no longer in control of his own junk, annexed into Frost’s eternal kingdom of pleasure. She giggled to herself at that, perhaps the last time one of her mental meanderings went anywhere; from that point forward, the amount of thoughts she had that didn’t directly relate to dick in some way decreased sharply until it reached zero.

But she couldn’t be happier. Not when she had full access to the absolute best that hyper bodies could provide! Or at least the best that she could imagine; anyone could go and get themselves a gene treatment to be larger than average, but it took a special kind of someone to just be that large naturally… and Shrap definitely took the cake when it came to that category.

In fact, she couldn’t imagine anyone bigger than him… mostly on account of his size being such that she couldn’t think of anything else. Couldn’t, quite literally, as it soon became obvious to her that the more she tried to formulate any sort of thought that wasn’t of Shrapnel, of the wolf god in front of her, the more her mind fought back; she wasn’t supposed to be wasting time thinking of anyone or anything else, just him, and how best he could service him.

For his part, Shrapnel could do little but watch as his cock grew bigger and thicker with every heartbeat. Now that he was freed from his compressor wear, there wasn’t much else he could do to keep himself under control, and with such an eager lover there to warm him up and keep him nice and lubed up with his own juices, he could either push her away or deal with the consequences… and he hadn’t come this far just to turn back at the last moment.

It was at this moment of acceptance that things took yet another turn. Like a switch being flipped, one moment Shrapnel was merely enjoying himself like he never had before, and the next he was possessed of something… not of himself. Or, perhaps, definitely of himself, but kept quietly buried underneath so much self-repression that it rarely, if ever, got to manifest itself: his need for dominance.

He was a personal trainer at a gym, yes. That placed him in a position of authority over others in certain subjects, sure, but normally he didn’t go around deliberately trying to assert himself over others. He did his best to try and be as friendly as he could, try to cooperate and create an environment where everyone could be the best they could be, and this meant keeping his occasional thoughts under control; he didn’t need to have them, not then, not ever, so they were pushed back down where they couldn’t hurt anyone.

Like a pressurised gas tank waiting to rupture, however, so much bottled-up horny had to blow a gasket at some point. Waiting for its opportunity to strike, this other Shrapnel, this primal, animalistic version of himself didn’t want to timidly ask Frost out and stammer over his words querying whether she was willing to go on a date with him. This version of himself saw in the snow leopard a mate, someone to fuck and rut until the both of them were too tired to move, let alone do anything else; and now, with his old self duly locked in the mental basement, this new and improved Shrapnel could get down to business handling things going forward.

Almost as if in response, the changes being wrought upon Frost’s body turned in a brand new direction. Her new breasts had been growing in, but only so far as they needed to match the first two; after a few cup sizes, the snep was left with three perfectly identical rows, all of which were average-sized for someone of her height and build; indeed, having multiple racks wasn’t even that out of the ordinary, and she’d likely not attract that much attention, if any.

But that wasn’t enough for Shrapnel’s mate. No, she needed more; she needed to be given a body that could match the wolf’s sheer excess, even if her genetics weren’t at all prepared for it. She wasn’t a hyper, but that hardly mattered when she had Shrapnel’s seed there to change her for the better… or rather, his precum; the wolf hadn’t actually climaxed yet, bringing to Frost’s mind all sorts of delicious questions over just what that man was capable of when the floodgates were opened and she was bathed in his spunk.

In the meantime, it was her tits, bloating in front of her very eyes. Frost was no longer blissfully ignorant of what was happening to her; quite the contrary, as the constant doses of precum splattering all over her seemed to have awakened her to a state of almost perfect awareness, albeit one marred by an endless hunger for more. And her body provided, giving her more indeed: she had to keep herself from cackling when she saw her triple busts swelling once again, mass added onto them from seemingly nowhere as they blazed through cup sizes again and again, the weight tugging at her back nothing more than a delectable reminder that all of this was actually happening.

Frost snapped her head upwards, staring at Shrapnel with an expression that left even the new, predatory wolf feeling unsafe for the fleetest of instants. It was desire and raw, unfettered need being transmitted in a piercing gaze so powerful that it burned straight through the back of his skull and into the wall behind him; Shrapnel wouldn’t be surprised if, after everything was said and done, he’d get up, look back, and see his silhouette imprinted onto the wall.

But it lasted only a moment. As much as Frost was riding a high so potent that it beat any drug that she could possibly take, this state of affairs couldn’t go on for much longer. Her job there was to grow and be rutted like the good mate she was; she wasn’t there to take charge, that was for Shrapnel to do, so this one, last moment of quasi-defiance, where she put her paws down and made it clear that she wasn’t going anywhere, was the very last time that Frost had any real agency in that shower room.

Sure, she still did things. She still clung to that pillar of cockmeat like it was a fountain in the middle of the desert and she hadn’t had a drink in months; by then, Shrapnel’s shaft had grown large enough that its tip was touching the ceiling several feet out in front of him, taking up most of the available space in the changing room. His nuts, too, had bloated with so much of his virile spunk that he had to sit on them just to avoid being crushed beneath their weight; he knew, from experience as well, that if he didn’t do anything to release soon, then it was only going to get worse, and the repairs were going to come out of his pocket.

Unfortunately for the gym itself, Shrapnel no longer cared. Or, to be more precise, he lacked the ability to care; maybe beforehand he still possessed the correct neural pathways that allowed him to think in terms that included other people and private property, but by then, when his cock groaned loudly enough to be deafening, and his nuts were gurgling even louder, why bother? If he had to wreck through the entire gym, he just would, because that’s what he did.

The only constraint there was Frost. She was eager, definitely had the energy, but she was still… Frost. Beautiful, gorgeous, and definitely increasingly stacked, but she was still of a certain… size. Much as she might want to take him, there were limitations to how much someone like her could work with when it came to someone like him. Limitations which, of course, had to be removed; Shrapnel didn’t know how, didn’t even think about what he was meant to do, but he knew that, somehow, in some way, he was going to make Frost take all of him, and she would do so gleefully.

Clearly, more work had to be done there. She wasn’t yet ready for the grand prize.