Contraindications Part 8
#8 of Contraindications
When Matt woke, he still felt sluggish and drowsy. His head was swimming, his limbs felt heavy. He lay for a bit with his eyes closed. The mattress beneath him didn't feel like his bed. It felt different: sort of hard and lumpy. He licked his nose, turning over. No one was next to him. Stetson must be up making breakfast. Breakfast. The thought made his stomach growl. He was really hungry. He sniffed the air hopefully for the smell of it and wrinkled his nose. The room was pungent with the smell of cum. Awareness began to glow in his mind. What had he done last night? And then he remembered. The sex had poured out of him; he had been like a monster, like something made to rut. Even now his sheath felt fat and ready, but it lacked the desperate urgency of before.
He opened his eyes. The cement ceiling hung over him. The room was dark, but the stairway door was open, and light streamed down from it into the basement. Shifting his weight experimentally, he leaned up on one arm. He felt the bulge of his biceps pressing against his lats, the tightness of his triceps. The mound of his traps, between his head and shoulders, pressed up on one side when he leaned, squeezing against his neck, nudging the back of his head. His mind tried to race, but his thoughts were still slow. For a moment, he felt himself panic, wondering if the drug combination had caused some kind of brain damage, but then he remembered, vaguely, Stetson giving him something to help him sleep. That was probably still affecting him somehow. Still, he didn't want to lie down anymore. He rolled to his feet and almost fell forward, the push of his legs lifting him into a small jump. His paws hit the floor heavily, and he felt the tug of his muscles all over his frame as he landed, gravity pulling at his chest and arms and back.
He looked down at himself. The twin swells of his pecs pushed out in his vision below him, and poking out just beyond that, he could see the end of his sheath, his pink tip nestled just inside it. He brought his hand forward to heft it experimentally and gaped at the thickness of his arm, powerful cords of muscle rolling beneath his pelt. He wouldn't be the biggest guy at the gym by far, but he was definitely approaching their class now. His fingers curled around his sheath, and for the first time in his life, it more than filled the cup of his fingers. He felt its contents stirring and, recalling the previous night, decided this might not be such a good idea.
Carefully, he took another step, feeling the odd weight of his leg, and simultaneously the new springiness in his step -- the thick ball of his calf pushed him up into the air more than he wanted, and he came down heavily on his paw. He stepped again, using a little less force this time, and this time he felt like he got it mostly right, but his toes came down in something wet and tacky. The scent in the room told him all he needed to know about that. He peered down in the dim light, but couldn't see where the puddle was; he stepped again, and his other paw came down into it. Oh well. He made his way across the room, finding most of the way dry, his pawpads leaving smears against the floor, and when he got to the stairs, he wiped first one paw, then the other, against the wooden lip of the stairs, looking down to see the thickness of his thighs as they lifted. His paws looked broader too, somehow, the toes a bit larger. The stairs creaked complainingly as he made his way up, still having difficulty taking normal steps.
At the top he squinted in the daylight, peering around Saul's living room, furnished with aggressive tastefulness. He could hear Stetson in the other room humming to himself, and followed the sound. "Stets?" His voice was deeper, more resonant. He walked into the kitchen, bumping his shoulder on the doorframe. The rabbit was at the kitchen counter, on which was stacked, to his right, a large stack of empty plastic wrap and foam containers. To his left were several plates piled high with food.
"Oh hey, hon," he said. "I was just about to come wake… you…" His voice trailed off as he turned around and looked at Matt. He looked a little shorter somehow. "Good god," he breathed. "It's one thing to see you lying down, but standing there, in the light…" His eyes flickered up and down, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth. "It's lucky I'm so drained, or I'd want to jump you now. How are you feeling?"
Matt lifted an arm to scratch the back of his head and watched Stetson's gaze follow it, his eyes widening. "Pretty good, I guess. Still kinda sluggish."
Stetson shivered. "Your voice… this is going to take some getting used to, hon." He nodded his chin upward. "Turn around, lemme see."
Obligingly, Matt made a slow spin, his thighs sliding against each other, jostling his sac. When he turned back, he noticed the front of Stetson's shorts bulging out, drained though the rabbit claimed to be.
Stetson shook his head. "Damn, Matt. I hardly recognize you. Do you still feel like you want to… like you have to… cum?"
Matt shook his head. "No," he said, though just the mention of it made the tip of his shaft poke upward from his sheath. "I mean, I feel ready, definitely, but not like I have to."
Stetson slumped visibly in relief. "Good to hear. You're hungry, I guess?"
"I could eat," Matt said, nodding, and as if in response, his stomach gurgled.
"Sit down then." Stetson gestured toward the table. There was a large, white plastic tub there, a pitcher of water, and a glass full of a brown liquid. "I figured you'd need more protein more than anything else."
Matt walked over, briefly forgetting to control the strength of his legs, half-bouncing across the room. The rabbit chuckled. "Don't be too eager now."
The otter shook his head. "No, it's…" he trailed off. Why try to explain? He lifted the glass to his muzzle and gulped down the chocolate-flavored protein. The stuff tasted better than he remembered. Normally the stuff had a vile flavor. Maybe his body just knew he needed it. The liquid in his stomach gurgled, and he poured a second glass, and then a third.
Stetson watched him quietly, and in the middle of Matt's fourth glass, brought over a plate of chicken and tuna fillets. Matt realized he just felt hungrier than ever, began gulping them down in huge bites, hardly pausing to chew. His stomach still didn't feel satisfied, nor even bloated. He guessed he was digesting the food quite quickly.
"Matt," Stetson began slowly. Matt looked up at him, chewing on a huge bite of chicken. "Are you okay?" the rabbit asked.
Matt kept chewing for a moment, thinking about the question, then swallowed. "I think so, yes," he said. "I mean, it's a lot to get used to… but you know I always wanted to be bigger." He grinned broadly. "And it's hard to argue with intense, mind-blowing pleasure, huh?"
Stetson smiled weakly. "Yes, but you know… what if it doesn't go away?"
The big otter paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, briefly distracted by the feeling of his large biceps balling up on his arm. "I don't want it to go away," he said. "I really like being like this!" The question puzzled him a bit. Surely the rabbit knew this was a dream for him.
Stetson shook his head. "No, I mean… suppose it doesn't stop? Suppose for the rest of your life, every time you climax, you grow even more?" He stepped closer, putting a paw on Matt's round shoulder, fingering the new separations between the lobes of muscle there. "I've spent over four hundred dollars on food for you just over the weekend. And I mean, that's all right. We're not bad off. We can afford it. But if this keeps up, it might be hard. Not to mention finding clothes for you, transporting you around. And did you notice that you're taller now? I don't know how much. Maybe only a couple inches. But this is after only a few days. What about in a year? What about in ten years?" He nodded toward Matt's plump sheath. "How long before you can't fit that in me… in anyone?" His fingers slid down over the curve of the otter's biceps, and Matt instinctively tensed the muscle, watching as it jumped to steely roundness against the rabbit's paw. "What if you grow too thick to move?"
Matt shook his head. "Anything like that is a long way off, Stetson."
The rabbit nodded. "Yes, hon, but we should start thinking about it now. We need to find a way to stop this before… before it's too late. And you should see a doctor to make sure your tendons aren't going to snap or your heart give out from trying to pump blood to you."
Matt wasn't sure why, but he really didn't like the idea of seeing a doctor. How would he ever convince them what had happened? Who would believe him? All the same, he nodded. Stetson had always been the more level-headed of the two of them.
"I think you should start by going to the nutrition store," Stetson said. "Find out what all the products you swallowed are. Then maybe the doctor can figure out what happened and if it's going to be harmful for you. I'll call and set up an emergency appointment for you tomorrow."
Matt nodded, continuing to gorge himself on the plates of food, washing them down with thick glasses of the chocolate-flavored protein. He was finally starting to feel sated, but his balls felt more full, too. The Wellbutrin might be out of his system finally, but his body was energetic and virile. The urge to mate was always on a low simmer. He looked up at Stetson. "Thank you, love. I don't know what I would do without you."
The rabbit laughed. "I do. You'd spend all night jerking off and it would take a wrecking ball and a vacuum pump to get you out of the basement."
Matt looked around. "What happened to Saul, anyway?"
Stetson's expression darkened a little. "He went out to a brunch or something. Got tired of waiting for you to wake up."
Matt looked at the tuna on his fork and put it back down on his plate, finally feeling full. "You're pretty pissed at him, huh?"
The rabbit sighed, his brow furrowing. "Not… exactly. I mean, it's not like you were very resistible last night, you know. It's just disappointing that he didn't even seem to try. I thought I could count on him a bit more. I've known Saul for a while now--even before meeting you, and while he's always been a bit shallow, I never pegged him for the type to go behind my back just because he wanted something bad enough. Last night, you know, I tried. You tried. Saul didn't try at all. Whenever we were out of the room, he was begging me, pleading with me to let him have you more." He looked down. "I probably shouldn't say it, but he even offered me money…"
Matt gaped. "What? You mean, like, he tried to pay you to have sex with me? Like a pimp?"
Stetson shrugged. "I don't think he saw it that way. He just saw it as, well, demonstrating to me how much it was worth to him. Still, I almost hit him."
"So," Matt grinned, "how much am I worth?"
Stetson gave him a long look. "Twenty-five grand. For until he wanted to quit or you did."
"Seriously?"
The rabbit nodded. "Honestly, if there were any way I could have left with you then and there I would have. That's really… not right. I don't know what he wants with you, but it's not just a horny guy wanting to get his rocks off. I don't care how hot someone is. You don't pay that kind of money for sex. You pay it for something specific." He walked over to the counter and leaned back on it. "I don't like the idea--like I said, he's an old friend--but I don't think we can trust him."
Matt nodded. "It is pretty creepy, now you mention it. Okay, I'll be on my guard. And anyway, we'll be out of here today, so it shouldn't be an issue." He stood up from the chair, patting his belly in satisfaction, his fingers thumping against the unfamiliar lines and curves of his furry abdominals. "Thanks for breakfast, Stets. Should we head home, then, and then I'll go over to the GNC and talk to them?"
"Sounds like a plan," the rabbit smiled.
"Okay, then." The otter took his plates to the sink and dumped them in. "I figure after trying to buy me, making Saul do a few dishes isn't a crime."
Stetson chuckled. "No, I expect not, but we'll want to grab the rest of the tubs of protein and the food."
Together they scooped up the remainders, threw out the trash, and then Matt headed for the front door, a protein tub tucked under each arm.
"Uh, Matt?" Stetson said, staring at him pointedly.
Matt turned around. "Yeah, what?"
"You heading outside?"
"Uh-huh."
The rabbit nodded. "You maybe want to put on some clothes first? I mean, you cut a nice figure and all, but…"
Matt blinked, looking down at himself. "Huh. I just feel so different anyway, I guess I didn't notice. Um. Are there any clothes for me?"
Stetson tossed him a large tank top and some gym shorts, and Matt pulled them on. They hung loosely off his frame. "Wow," he said. "I grew huge and you still managed to find clothes too big for me."
The rabbit raised an eyebrow. "I didn't want to have to buy a second pair tomorrow," he said.
Matt paused outside the sports nutrition store. He wasn't even sure if that raccoon -- what was his name? Harry? Perry? --would even be there. Hopefully whoever was would still be able to help him out, anyway. The drive over had been strange. The seat fit oddly, its edges digging into the swell of his back, and he kept bumping his elbow into the car door. He'd had to adjust everything: the seat, the mirrors, even the steering wheel dug into his legs before he raised it. And when he sat down at first, he'd squashed his sac between his thighs, sending a sharp pain up into his gut. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.
He pushed the door open and walked through, bumping his arm rather hard on the frame. The raccoon was at the counter again. He glanced at the nametag. Terry, that was it. Right, with the arms that nicely filled out the shirtsleeves. Matt felt a habitual pang of envy before recalling that he probably couldn't fit his arms in those shirtsleeves to begin with.
"Can I help you, sir?" the raccoon asked, looking up at him. He had an almost deferential look in his eyes. Do people treat you differently if you get big? Matt considered. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had called him sir without being snide about it. But then, he probably looked like a regular customer here.
"Terry, it's me," Matt said.
There was no recognition in the raccoon's eyes, but he forced a broad smile anyway. "Hey, man, great to see you."
Matt shook his head. "No, me, Matt, from the other day. I fell into the display case, swallowed a bunch of stuff by accident. Remember?"
The raccoon's expression went shifty and defensive. He backed away a step. "Dude, I don't know what that little guy told you, but it's all lies. Nothing happened. He was… he was trying to get free stuff, and when I wouldn't give it to him…"
Matt sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. "No, I don't want to… sue you or get you in trouble if that's what you're thinking. I just need to know what was on that shelf. Everything that fell. Every package you threw away. For medical reasons."
The raccoon scratched at his chin warily. "For medical reasons?" he said. "I dunno, man, that sounds like it… uh… violates doctor patient… privilege."
Matt rubbed at his forehead, feeling his biceps press against his forearm. "Yes," he said, "you might have a point, if you were a doctor. And if I were someone else entirely. Look, I'm the guy."
Terry shook his head. "Don't even, dude. Don't even. That guy was, like, half your size. Scrawny, high voice. You do look like him, I guess. Big brother, maybe?"
"No, look, I swallowed all that stuff, and it mixed funny, and now I'm… well, I'm growing. I know it's hard to believe, but--"
"Try impossible," the raccoon said, rolling his eyes. "Nobody grows like that in two days. It's a fantasy. Do you have any idea how much shit we'd sell if anything actually worked like that? Sorry, man. Play your games somewhere else. There is absolutely no way I'm going to believe that you've just been growing like that. No way."
A surge of frustration flooded through Matt's chest. He planted one arm on the counter and leaned forward. "Now look here, you little…" he paused. Terry had backed away farther from the counter, lifting his arms in front of him and squeezing his eyes closed as if about to be hit. Matt could feel the thick bulge of his sheath sliding against the delightfully slick fabric of the gym shorts. He looked back at Terry again. The raccoon was young, well-toned, lithe. His tail switched behind him nervously, pulling Matt's eyes toward it. The otter felt his sheath pulse. This wasn't a good idea, he told himself. But still, if it had to be done… "What if," he said, trying to keep his voice reassuring, "I could prove it to you?"
The raccoon's folded ears swiveled partly forward. "Prove it?" he asked, opening one eye. "How?"
Desire churned in Matt's loins, rising upward with his scent. Mating would be good. And he even had a good reason for it -- it was the only way to get the information he needed. "What if I could grow a little bit for you now?" he said.
The raccoon sniffed at the air suddenly. "You can't…" he began. "I mean, that's impossible."
Matt leaned farther forward on the counter, feeling his triceps thicken under his weight. "Not impossible," he said. The squeeze of the counter against his sheath pushed a few inches of his shaft out against the rough elastic of his waistband, making it bulge. "Do you have a back room?"
The raccoon sniffed the air again. Matt inhaled deeply, but couldn't smell anything different. Terry shook his head. "No. I mean, we do, but it's full of stock. There's no room." His fur was beginning to stand on end. "I could take a break," he said. "I mean, lock the door and close the shutters."
The otter nodded. "That will work." Excitement was beginning to course through his veins; he felt his cock push out a few inches more, jutting obscenely up under his tank top.
Terry quickly opened the counter and moved to the front door. He locked it, looking over his shoulder almost hungrily at Matt as he did so, and closed the blinds. "You know, dude," he said, walking slowly back over to Matt, scanning him up and down, "you didn't have to make up some story for me. If you wanted this, all you had to do was say so. I'd have dropped everything for you." He stood close, and, watching Matt's face for any warning signs of disapproval, put his fingers on the otter's chest, slowly sliding them down until they rested atop that rising tent. "God, how big does this thing get?" he murmured.
"That," Matt said, lifting up his shirt and pulling it up over his shoulders, "is what I'm trying to find out."
Terry crouched down, his whiskers twitching as his breath huffed over the rising spire. He inhaled deeply, black mask peering up at Matt over the twin swells of the otter's pectorals, then shuddered. "I think I can get it in me, dude," he breathed. "…unless you want me to lick?"
Matt shook his head. He was hungry to feel Terry's tightness around him. "I think you can get it in you too," he said.
Terry bit his lip, nodding, and slid his hands down to unbutton his pants, letting them drop down to his ankles, revealing toned, grey-furred legs, and, Matt was amused to note, Spiderman underwear. He pushed those down as well, quickly stepping out and stripping off his shirt to reveal his lithe torso, with a light swimmer's build, his somewhat smallish grey sheath straining with the pink cock already thrusting up from it.
"Lube," he said in a sudden, hushed voice, remembering, and then he looked down at Matt's cock. The end was already gooey with pre, a long rivulet sliding downward. "Never mind!" he breathed. His eyes were wide. Matt followed his gaze, and immediately pushed his gym shorts down over his thighs and kicked them away -- he couldn't afford to mess them up here.
Terry turned around, crouching on hands and paws, arching his rump high, his striped tail swaying above it. "Hurry," he pleaded, biting his lip again. His cock was already dripping onto the floor.
The otter crouched behind him, feeling the thick-furred brush press up against his pectorals, planting his tip up under Terry's tail, sliding it between the slim, rounded cheeks of his rump. His pre made a sticky sound as he pushed forward. "Relax," he advised the raccoon, and then, gripping at Terry's hips with his right paw, he increased the pressure.
"Oh gods!" the raccoon cried out, his voice going high. He was tight, very tight, around the head of Matt's shaft, but spread open slowly. Matt felt himself give a little growl. He didn't want to go easy on the raccoon. He had wanted proof, so Matt would give him proof. He gave a little thrust with his hips, making Terry cry out again. "Gods!" The store clerk lost his purchase, sliding across the floor toward the shelves a little, gamely pushing backward with his feet and hands. Matt tugged again at the raccoon's hips, and felt the satisfying tightness close behind the head of his shaft. He flexed inside the clerk, looking down past his chest to see the thick pink pole of his erection stretch where it slid under the striped tail. The raccoon gave a wordless cry this time as Matt's pre splashed into him, then panted. "Did you… did you already…?"
Matt chuckled, stroking his claws up through the fur on Terry's side. "Oh no," he said. "We're just getting started." And with that, he began to push deeper into the raccoon, sinking in inch after inch, his low, lustful growl joining the clerk's groans. He paused once he was nearly all the way in, not wanting to hurt the little procyonid, and then his cock flexed on its own, flooding Terry's gut with another wash of precum. He drew back a bit and begin to thrust, provoking loud groans from the raccoon, Terry's claws scrabbling as the thrusts pushing him across the smooth linoleum of the store toward the shelves. Matt was taking his time this time, no longer in control of the hyperactive drive of the previous night, feeling in charge of the situation, wanting to enjoy the raccoon who had so eagerly offered himself to him. He thrust again and Terry's nose bumped into product on the shelves. The raccoon lifted his paws to brace against the shelves, and now there was satisfactory resistance; Matt made smooth but forceful thrusts against the tight rump, sinking in a half inch deeper, and then another, as the raccoon began to climb the shelves with his hands, changing the angle with each of Matt's thrusts. Soon Matt was standing upright, pinning the lithe, squirming frame of the moaning raccoon up against the shelves as he thrust upward into him, each push rattling the contents of the shelves, protein jugs and vitamin bottles thumping, clattering, bouncing as they toppled to the floor. Terry's arms were above his head, his arms braced against the upper shelf, his teeth clenched as he pushed down against the thick spear thrusting into him, and Matt let him go, gripping the shelves to either side with two strong hands and tugging at them as he thrust a couple more times, still unable to hilt entirely, and then his climax burst into the raccoon with ecstatic intensity. He heard the gurgle of it in Terry's gut; the raccoon groaned, his belly tight, and Matt felt his hot seed begin to squeeze out around his shaft and run down to drip from his sac. Again and again he came, the puddle spreading to touch one broad lutrine paw. And then, just as the urgency of his climax began to fade, he felt the familiar tenseness seize his body once more, every muscle squeezing in contract, his head arching back as he tried to keep a groan from becoming a roar. He could feel it more acutely this time, feel his biceps mounding up, the spread of his lats, his traps rising like hills, neck thickening, his spread quads pressing into each other again. And then Terry yowled, his fingers gripping tightly at the shelves. He pulled himself upward as Matt felt his cock pulse thicker and longer inside the raccoon, as the shelves to which his webbed fingers squeezed seemed to lower just a bit.
Then it was over, and they were both panting in the conspicuous quiet of the store. Matt waited a bit, neither of them saying anything, as he waited for him to soften up so he could pull out without causing Terry too much discomfort, but apparently his balls' growth had just refilled them. He wasn't going to get any softer planted inside this exhausted raccoon; far more likely, lust would take hold of him once more and he'd go for another round. So carefully, slowly, he pulled himself out, seed spilling onto the floor as he did so. With strong hands he gripped Terry and helped him back down to the floor.
"There, you see?" he said finally. "I told you I grew."
Terry nodded wordlessly, his eyes wide and apparently a little frightened. "Dude," he finally managed. "Dude, that was amazing."
Matt chuckled. "It was pretty good, yeah. So, now you wanna tell me what was on that shelf that got spilled? I'm happy now, but if I keep growing…"
Terry shook his head. "Why would you ever want to stop? Nearly every guy who comes here would kill for what you have."
Matt scratched at his chest, noticing how it pushed out a little farther. "It's good up to a point," he said. "But if I grow every time I cum, that sort of limits the amount of sex I have in my lifetime, yeah? So I need those ingredients." He paused, a mischievous smile crossing his muzzle. "And can you hook me up with a jug of protein? Seems like I've earned it, huh?"
Terry nodded dazedly, not even questioning the request. "Sure thing, man." He turned around. "Geez, this is gonna be a mess to clean up. Again."