Midwestern tunes thrummed through the cabin of Vincent's truck, the engine acting as a rumbling backdrop for strumming guitars. The heavily muscled squirrel leaned against the door, an elbow propped over the open window. The summer wind breezed through the long dark locks that cascaded over his broad shoulders, tall ears bent back as they pressed against the ceiling. Dense digits thrummed to the beat, drumming the edges of his timeworn steering wheel. 
The leather had frayed along the edges, discolored from age and the oils from those padded fingers. The entire rig was old—probably more than the man driving it. Not that it slowed him down, the squirrel's bushy tail twitching behind him as he drove down the country road. Dust kicked up from the back tires, trailing a cloud behind the flatbed tow truck. It was a little bumpy this far out into the boonies, but Vincent didn't mind. His body swayed, hirsute bodybuilder frame fitting snugly even in the sizable seat.
The fields of pines parted, revealing a driveway that led off the main road. Gravel crunched under the tires as his destination came into view. The sight was incredibly rustic, a two-pump gas station nestled along the foothills of a looming mountain. The verdant pines stretched beyond were wild and untamed. The patch of land was barely restrained, mowed, and cleared just enough for the little outpost to do business. It was a familiar stop for Vincent, but not for work hours.
The only vehicle besides his was a gray sedan parked underneath the station's overhang. They stalled out while trying to pump gas and couldn't get it fired back up again. Vincent already had an idea of what the issue was based on the description, but there was nothing he could do until he got it to his auto shop.
The red-painted roof and white siding were new, though. It matched the pumps, giving the old gas station a revitalized look. Scrawled across the side of the building in black was "Spucky's Gas." At least the paint covered the unsightly rusted spots, Vincent thought to himself. The truck's door popped open, seat suspension creaking as he flipped his bulk out of it with belied agility. 
He was quite a sight, the noon light casting shadows across his meaty form, pectorals in particular soaking up the rays. The front of his blue plaid shirt was unbuttoned, allowing the twin beauties to hang out. They were furred just like his forearm, dark, rough strands gleaming in the sun. Suspenders looped over his shoulders, pinched between his traps as they looped over those pecs, a noticeable gap between them and his outlined abdominals; not quite enough for someone to slip their arm through, but it was enough of a tease.
Gravel crackled under wide work boots as he strolled, his thumbs casually looped into his tan pants. A crimson glance showed there was nobody around. Dead quiet except for the rustle of the wind. "Bobert?" the squirrel called out, baritone rumbling his throat with a noticeable drawl.
The only response was a far-off chirp.
Vincent shook his head. The lazy otter was probably sleeping somewhere in the back. Well, whatever. He'd give the little troublemaker a proper greeting after he got this car hooked up.
The squirrel circled around the sedan appraisingly. The poor thing looked more worn down than the gas station where it broke down. He glanced at the tow truck that was only in moderately better shape. Sighing, he rubbed behind his head, fingers sifting through long, lush hair. The winch was having issues lately, and he didn't feel like pushing it. It had been a dry season for his business, so funds were scarce.
"A'ight," he muttered to himself, taking one last glance around to see if the coast was clear. He unfastened his suspenders, slipping out of them with a roll of his burly shoulders. Part of him wished the sassy little otter was awake. He was missing quite the show as he slowly unbuttoned the front of his flannel. He tossed it over the nearby gas pump before hucking his pants as well and kicking off his boots.
Clad only in violet underwear and a tightly strapped digital watch, he strolled to the back of the sedan, his bushy tail twitching excitedly. The heavy junk pulling the pouch taut swung between trunk-like thighs, brushing the insides of teardrop-shaped quads. His ass jutted just as much, the fabric arching up and around those bulbous glutes to sink into the deep divide between meaty globes as he walked.
Vincent squatted down, tail brushing the hard cement as he slipped his hands under the front bumper. With a deep grunt, he lifted. Thighs swelled, core activating as cobbled abdominals clenched together. The abandoned beater creaked in protest, wheels dropping subtly before being lifted from the ground. His biceps bulged, peaking as he brought the car up like a wheelbarrow, rolling it out from its spot in front of the pumps. Every step had Vincent huffing, veins crawling up his neck as his face turned a faint shade of red.
"Al…most…" he said through grit teeth. Sweat started to bead over his brow as he carefully shuffled backward. His entire body stood on end, muscles pumping as veins branched underneath his hirsute pelt. Most men wouldn't have been able to get this car off the ground, let alone bring it any distance. However, Vincent was defying all those norms and doing it with his natural strength alone.
Yet…
He stopped just short of the tow truck, finally dropping the front end back to the ground as the suspension bounced. He wasn't going to be able to get it up there on his own—not as he was, anyway. He thumbed along the edges of his watch, contemplating.
It wouldn't hurt to indulge a little bit. Besides, that's why he took most of his clothes off, right?
Decided, a buck-toothed smile flashed as he tapped on the watch. It came to life, glowing far brighter than a digital watch had any right to. His finger twirled around the edge, sliding to a stop at a near-full circumference.
Vincent braced himself as he slapped the top of the watch with a palm, sealing in the new settings. He sucked in a sharp breath as the changes hit him. His arm shook, quivering as power poured from his watch and into his forearm. Sinew swelled, rolling in waves as muscle ballooned into rolling cables. Veins branched underneath his watch, traveling up that thickening forearm and into his biceps. They engorged, heads splitting as his triceps jutted far and away.
Realistically, this was all happening in mere seconds, but for Vincent, it stretched into an eternity of ecstasy. The surge of uneven size caused his shoulder balloon, trap lifting as his pectoral doubled in size compared to its partner. He reached up with his other hand, shamelessly cupping that massive melon. Even his hands were unmatched; the grabber below his watch had grown into an enormous mitt, complete with dense, impenetrable padding.
"Oohh… Oh, yeah!" He gasped as veins crawled up his neck, his voice deepening subtly as his throat thickened. The squirrel hunched forward as mass piled onto his back, defined musculature pumping and expanding as he widened. Abdominals clenched, rippling as any stray fat evaporated, leaving a wall of cobbled muscle and flanking obliques that crawled to his wing-like lats.
Vincent leaned to one side, thankful that the power flowing into him went south rather than leaving him temporarily top-heavy. His thigh ballooned, pumping into a mighty trunk as a calf quickly fought to catch up. He continued to widen, expanding by an entire foot, then another as his dark gray pelt creaked and strained. Traps pushed up alongside his head, threatening to lift above it as his pecs shoved proudly into the open air.
He loomed over the car, wider than the sedan, as he leaned forward, gripping the edges for support while panting heavily. His underwear stretched to the limit, his junk swelling, the base of his obsidian shaft showing as the violet fabric was forced to retreat. He tried to rein in the damage, but he couldn't help as his stance forcibly shifted wider. Powerful feet slammed into the cement, sending cracks spidering under soles as they widened, toes splaying and curling.
Sweat steamed off of his overblown body, easily four times larger than he once was, a hulking mass of muscled squirrel. The dark hair coating his body had grown thicker, responding to the surge in testosterone flooding through his system, augmented by the technology clinging to his wrist. The band creaked with every subtle shift of that monstrously thick forearm, fingers rolling testingly as meaty mitts clenched into fists.
It had been a while since he had cut loose like this. He enjoyed the feeling of his thickened facial features, the grind of his blocky chin against his swollen, powerful pectorals as he shifted it shuttlewise. Hair cascaded over his massive back, obscuring the deep divide that nearly split the rolling mountain range in half.
The squirrel's underwear was little better than an overstretched thong. Half-hard, the head of his shaft was cupped by the end of it, elastic wrapped around the helmeted edges of his turgid glans. His bloated balls swung down to his knees, resting over a cotton hammock that vanished into the void between boulderous cheeks.
Every shift of his powerful frame sent sinew thrumming, feathering, and standing on end under the squirrel's straining pelt. Veins branched over his body, providing fuel for that monstrously muscled form. With the rush of power going to his head, Vincent moved to the side of the car, wrapping his arms underneath and lifting it clean from the ground in one swoop. His bushy tail was nearly pinched off, the swell of his titanic back threatening to crash into his bulbous glutes.
The sedan almost squealed in fear as it was hefted into the air, lifted over Vincent's head as some gravel and dust dropped from dangling tires. There was no strain this time. He felt like he could have lifted a dozen sedans before breaking a sweat. His feet sank into cement, leaving outlines of those wide, powerful soles as he walked.
The tow truck groaned, wobbling slightly as he deposited the car onto the bed. The squirrel's biceps stood on end, peaks splitting as they clenched. The level of precision was impressive; using his immense strength like a scalpel as he carefully maneuvered the sedan into position.
Vincent chuckled to himself, licking his lips as he stepped back, the ground shuddering beneath him as he admired his handiwork. Of course, now that his work was complete, his attention was drawn to something else. He checked out his reflection in the silver trim of the nearby gas pump, flashing himself a charismatic smile. Arms flipped up, fists clenching as he hit a double bicep pose. Muscle responded eagerly, those peaks blasting just past his hair-dusted knuckles.
It was a shame that the otter missed this show. He had half a mind to go barreling into that building and find him. But that was the rush of power speaking. Vincent knew better than to throw his weight around recklessly. He got a few more flexes in, twisting into a side tricep pose that made that monstrous horseshoe ripple and bulge. Popping his fists onto his hips, he enjoyed a front lat spread as well, enjoying the spread of those low-hanging wings.
With some well-deserved narcissism sated, Vincent let out a reluctant sigh. Reaching his watch was difficult in this state. The sheer amount of muscle mass filling out his body made it challenging to reach that wrist-mounted marvel. Pecs bunched together, the squirrel straining as those mounds dimpled and banded. The tips of his fingers brushed the metal edges, fumbling with digits thicker than a man's forearm.
And then they made contact, the watch glowing once more. It was like someone letting air out of a balloon. It was far faster in reverse; the dark-furred squirrel's enormous size retracted as he shrank back down. There was a particular pleasure to it as well, a lascivious moan slipping from him as he rolled his shoulders and neck.
Humorously, his overstretched underwear dropped to the ground, draping wide around his feet. He let out a lighthearted curse as he scooped it up. 
So much for modesty.
He went to collect his clothes, now going commando since his undergarment was rendered useless. The squirrel squished his junk into his jeans, having to fight with the remnants of his arousal to get that dark sausage down a leg. Hairy fingers fastened his buttons back up as he looped his suspenders over his muscled chest. 
While there was a particular disappointment at relinquishing all that mass, there was something to be said for being able to wear clothes. Besides the modesty, proper clothing could highlight the alluring, hirsute mass. Plus, it felt good to have his body squeezed into all that taut fabric.
After securing the sedan to his truck, the squirrel strolled to the convenience store. The bells jingled as he stepped in, long hair swept back by a blast of cool air. Beyond the racks of cheap, fattening snacks, he found exactly what he was looking for. Perched with his feet up over the countertop was a sandy-furred otter. At 5 feet, he stood at only a fraction of Vincent's looming 8 feet of unfettered brawn. It was more pronounced now that he was seated, leaned precariously back in his chair, and dead asleep.
The otter snored softly, a bubble of mucus comically swelling from his nostril. Long brown locks danged behind him, along with a plump rudder and even more plump junk. While Vincent enjoyed a certain level of girth, Bobert put him to complete shame. With balls that hung down to his calves, there was no contest.
Vincent strolled around the edge of the countertop, a sly little buck-toothed smile spreading across his masculine muzzle. A dozen entertaining thoughts passed through Vincent's mind as he watched the slow rise and fall of the otter's chest. As a test, he hooked a finger under the edge of the otter's cap, pulling it off of his head with a flick.
No reaction.
The squirrel's smile spread into a shit-eating grin. He took the otter's hand, lifting it to his vast, hirsute chest. Rolling it around in slow circles, Vincent's palm pressed down over those slender fingers.
"You like that, lil bro?" he asked softly, breathy tones just enough for the sleeping otter's short, round ears to pick up on it. There was a slight squirm as he slept, Bobert's expression screwing up as he bit down on his lower lip.
Part of him was glad he didn't follow through with charging in with his augmented mass. There was no way Vincent could have fit in this cramped little roadside market. It didn't mean it wasn't fun to think about, especially as he teased the sleeping little otter.
Carefully, he brought Bobert's legs off of the table, turning his chair around so he could better face the squirrel. There was some mild surprise and amusement that none of this woke the otter from his slumber. He must have had a rough night. No way he would be sleeping through all of this otherwise.
He enjoyed the feel of his massive mitts around his companion's slender body. The size difference was incredibly appealing, and more than just for Vincent. Bobert's junk had begun to stir before the otter, stretching and straining the front of his dark jeans. The oversized squirrel quickly palmed over it, sliding the contours of his meaty mitt around the creaking denim.
Dropping to a knee, Vincent moved closer to the softly snoring otter, bringing his pecs right to his face. He took immense satisfaction in shoving it between his furry pectorals. If he was awake, there would have been several protesting hurdles to jump. Instead, he got a thrilled throb from the smaller male's mammoth shaft.
"Ooh!" Vincent gasped as fingers found their way under his flannel. Digits clenched around sizable nipples, pulling on sensitive flesh; it nearly made his knees buckle, the squirrel having to catch himself before he fell over onto the dozing otter.
The stimulation had certainly worked him up. Vincent returned the favor by dipping his meaty hand under Bobert's shirt, his padded palm nearly as wide as his midsection. In a rush of daring, he pushed those digits under the otter's pants, carefully undoing his belt to squeeze fat fingers underneath.
"Hnngh…?" Bobert twitched slightly, his violet eyes cracking open slowly. With his pants partly undone and a vast, hirsute squirrel looming over him, they popped open as wide as dinner plates. He squeaked as he flailed, arms going wide, one of those knuckles hooking into Vincent's blocky jawline.
Not that he felt it. The squirrel's tail twitched behind his head as he flashed his slender companion a smile. "Wakey-wakey~ Someone fell asleep on the job," Vincent purred teasingly, reveling in the flustered huff that billowed out of Bobert.
"I was just resting my eyes!" he protested loudly, his cheeks puffing comically. "When did you show up? And why are your hands all over me, you big lug!" His cheeks flushed harder as Vincent pointedly looked down.
"It's not my fault!" Bobert groused sharply. "I'm not the one assaulting people in their sleep!"
Vincent cocked his head to one side, smile turning slick. "Aw, that's a bit of an overstatement, isn't it, Lil Bro? I thought you liked being close to me."
"Sh-shaddap!" he snapped, squirming in meaty arms yet making no overt attempts to dislodge himself. All he succeeded in was shoving himself further in, hands working over those burgeoning biceps. He pulled back, chest to chest with the behemoth, trying everything to avoid his chin sinking into the cleft between powerful pecs.
"Aw, don't be like that," the hirsute squirrel teased, leaning down close enough for his nose to rub against Bobert's. "Isn't this the kind of wake-me-up you've always wanted?"
He went to open his mouth and fire back a sassy reply but found Vincent's lips pressed to his. Any protests died as a slick tongue slid into his maw. A meaty hand cupped the back of his head, fat, padded fingers slipping along the edges of his cheek. Being literally manhandled, Bobert found that he couldn't resist Vincent's charm—not with a tongue plugging his mouth. The tip wiggled deep, threatening to slide down his throat.
The otter grunted, squirming as that other meaty mitt went south, gripping around his swelling endowment, massaging it above straining denim. He could already feel the impending gush of precum, the fabric darkening as the splotch began to grow. Sat over the squirrel's lap, there was little choice he had in the matter, his thick tail squeezed between those meaty thighs to effectively keep him in place.
The wet sounds of their deep kiss echoed in the small shop, soft glck noises coming from Bobert's throat as Vincent's tongue plunged deep. Small hands pushed on that powerful chest, fingers nearly getting lost in the thick curls that covered it. "Mmhhnn-!" he whined, squirming incessantly, enough to get Vincent to finally break that mind-melting kiss.
Strings of saliva stretched between their lips, breaking from the distance as the red-faced otter huffed. "W-We can't stay in here!" he barked, though his short, round ears were pinned back.
Vincent grinned, showing those buck front teeth. "Why not?" he asked with mock innocence, rubbing an affectionate thumb across the otter's cheek.
"B-Because we'll make a mess!" he shot back, trying to ignore the dense digit on his face. "I'm not cleaning it all up! And—h-hey, woah!" He failed as he was scooped effortlessly into dark arms. The back door clicked open, pushed by a broad shoulder, the squirrel twisting to fit through the narrow exit.
The midday sunlight was searing to Bobert's eyes, the otter throwing a hand over his brow to shield them. Cool air drifting from the mountain's icy peaks was refreshing as it mingled with the sun's ambient heat. But it was nothing compared to the warm body pressed against him. Vincent maneuvered him over to a plastic picnic table, one of the unibody kinds where the benches were directly welded to it.
"This better?" Vincent asked, his dark shadow draping over Bobert as he loomed. The otter choked back his reply, those dark locks cascading down broad shoulders to tickle at him.
"Y-Yeah…" he muttered, looking around to see if they were alone. Concealed beyond the out-of-the-way gas station with the untamed woods on the other side, there was little chance of anyone spotting their frotting. He tried not to make a sound as the squirrel undid his belt buckle and peeled open the front of his shorts. The massive endowment eagerly pushed from its prison, bending in a way that nearly sent the otter's eyes rolling back in his head.
Vincent licked his lips as he eyed his prize, helping coax it out. Fabric stretched, seams popping, but eventually, that jet-black log flipped out into the dazzling sunlight. The squirrel eyed it like someone might a prized lollipop, leaning in to give it a lick.
"Nnhhh!" Bobert whined, biting his lower lip as he fell back onto the table. That tongue expertly slid around the dense helmeted head, lapping up a glistening gob of precum. Meaty mitts grasped around the base, plush palms pressing in as those meaty arms jerked.
The otter cracked an eye open, peeking past the log between his legs to watch the squirrel as he disrobed. He gulped softly as his crimson gaze made contact, Vincent intently watching him as he slowly unbuttoned the front of his flannel. The tip of his tail curled, holding his breath as Vincent undid the front of his pants.
"Where's your underwear?!" the otter protested—though he didn't really know why at this point. His face flushed as he watched that meaty endowment slip from its prison, dribbling head brushing against the underside of his own twitching log.
Vincent hummed playfully, giving the little otter a smug little look. "I thought you'd appreciate getting to the goods a little faster." Kicking the rest of his clothes off, he straddled the table, putting himself over the otter. He ground their hips together, taking the time to kiss the head of that man-sized shaft every so often.
"S-Stupid…" Bobert muttered. He moaned as those hands slipped around his shaft once more. They squeezed, the supple padding that comprised Vincent's palms massaging around sensitive flesh like sensory ambrosia. When one of those mitts got close, he hooked his fingers around Vincent's, pulling one of them from their work. With more than a little internal grumbling, he brought it close to his face, sniffling at the palm and placing it over his face.
Vincent smirked, wrapping his fingers around the otter's head, letting him get as much of that fragrant palm as he wanted. "Always cute when you take some initiative, Lil Bro," he purred, brushing a thumb across the otter's soft lips. His smile hiked higher when he felt them open, inviting that digit in.
"Mmhh…" Bobert moaned softly, the salty digit sinking into his mouth. For all his protestation, he couldn't shake the salacious sensation of such strong fingers. They were a weakness of his, and he knew that Vincent knew, too. With surprising dexterity, the squirrel worked his thumb around in a slow circle, pumping it in and out of the otter's wet, warm maw.
Vincent had to stop just to watch Bobert's expression. Red-faced, half-lidded, and blissed out, the mess he had become was quite the sight. It was like reaching the sweet inner core of a sour piece of candy: incredibly rewarding. He pushed his thumb in a little deeper, satisfied with the feeling of the otter's tongue lifting to caress the padded end.
Brown-furred hands had found Vincent's pectorals once more, squeezing the rounded mounds. In response, they flexed, rolling teasingly, jumping as banded sinew feathered underneath a carpet of dark curls. Another tug on his nips nearly caused the squirrel to drop his weight down onto the otter, having to release his shaft to grip the edge of the table.
"Hooh… Getting me worked up, lil ott," Vincent muttered, bushy tail swaying excitedly behind him. "It was pretty cute that you didn't even wake up when I was touchin' you earlier. Can't even get enough of me, even in your dreams, huh?"
Bobert's face flushed hard, expression screwing up as that thumb finally slipped from his mouth. "Sh-Shut up!" he snapped, ears practically steaming.
"You're so hot," he muttered lowly, leaning down to let his warm, breathy voice flit into the otter's ear. "How do you want it?" he asked, keeping his lips close to the sensitive insides.
"I…" Bobert flustered, unable to finish the sentence as more squirrel loomed over him. His world had reduced to nothing but hirsute muscle, that black-furred behemoth leaning over him, nearly taking his breath away.
"I can't go back to work like this," he said, still wearing that smug smile. "And I know you can't either. So why don't we take a lil 'lunch break' out back?" His lips trailed as he spoke, brushing them against Bobert's cheek and then over his lips. "Tell me how you want it, Lil Bro. I want you to feel good."
Those words, in particular, struck the otter like a chord, strumming up his spine and tickling his brain. "I… Uh…" he muttered, stammering. "I want you on, uh, all fours?" He barely had time to think as the squirrel reversed their positions. He had to scramble across that huge body as Vincent dropped himself onto the table, bulk threatening to flow over the edges. His knees perched on the benches, bushy tail hiking alluringly to reveal those bulbous glutes.
Bobert gulped, sitting over herculean hamstrings. He tentatively reached out, feeling the salacious curves of those powerful globes. Not to his surprise, they jumped, banding as deeply dimpled mounds clenched together playfully.
"C'mon," Vincent whispered huskily, "put it in me; it's been too long."
Bobert gulped as he maneuvered his massive endowment, pushing the fat head between those cheeks. The low moan from Vincent's thrumming bass only made him harder, veins branching down his endowment as he rocked his hips, slowly sinking it into the squirrel. The scratchy hair between those globes made him twitch as he moved to mount the mammoth man.
The table squeaked and creaked, straining under the weight as it swayed. Pushing into Vincent's fat donut took a moment, Bobert adjusting himself over those herculean hamstrings just to get a good angle. One hard thrust sent it siding into the bigger man like it belonged. Vincent moaned deeply, lifting a meaty mitt to stroke over abdominals as they distended. Blocky muscle warped into a familiar helmeted shape, stretching a good quarter of the otter's cock like a sinewy condom.
The warmth was nearly enough for the pent-up Bobert to go right over the edge. The squeeze of Vincent's glutes was like a vice, muscle rolling with a mind-blowing level of control, individual strands clenching as those globes creased along his colossal cock. Bobert could appreciate what Vincent was doing below, flexing his hamstrings, rocking back to squeeze subtly around the edges of the otter's cum-swollen balls.
Bobert's hand explored the rolling hills of Vincent's back, tracing the bulging lines and the deep coiled valleys that made up the broad expanse. When that tail wasn't in the way, that is. Bobert let out an annoyed noise as he pushed it aside, shoving the bushy appendage like someone might a giant fern. "Get that thing out of my way!" he barked, though the words didn't hold malice.
Even in the throes of pleasure, Vincent still managed to snicker. He opted to wrap his tail around Bobert's midsection, garnering a begrudging "Better" from the otter. With pecs pressed into the table, Vincent lifted himself, clapping his ass back against the otter's hips. He didn't mind that he had to grab his long hair; quite the opposite. A low moan bubbled out of him as the otter twisted strands in his fingers, pulling on those dark follicles.
"Got you now," Bobert said between clenched teeth, precariously balancing over the bucking squirrel. It took some adjusting, but he found footholds in the form of those bulging, shelf-like calves, adjusting himself as if he were some sort of jockey.
He certainly didn't make it easy. The allure of that massive, hairy body underneath him was nearly enough for him to come undone; add in the absolute muscle control, the needy bucking, and the warm, tight insides, and Bobert was already teetering on the edge. 
Bobert squeaked as the sensitive cockhead was squeezed. Meaty digits squeezed around it, flexing down over warped abdominals, the squirrel having tucked his arm under himself at some point.
"Y-You're making it hard…" Bobert grumbled, sweat starting to bead over his forehead, trying his best to keep up the rhythm with his swinging hips. He knew Vincent would have capitalized on the phrasing, but he was too preoccupied. The squirrel's mouth hung open, eyes threatening to roll back in his head as his tongue lolled.
Even with the cool air wafting from the mountainside, the heat that radiated from Vincent's massive body was enough to make Bobert's vision waver. He was bouncing over the squirrel by now; the only thing that stopped him from popping out and falling backward off the table was the bushy tail hooked around him. There was little recourse but to stand on the back of those strumming hamstrings, balancing over those mighty trunks as he piledrived his hips into Vincent's fur-lined ass.
Bobert's ears folded back as he heard his name babbled by the squirrel, Vicent begging him, pleading to be filled. He bit his lower lip, his balls flexing of their own accord as they lifted between his thighs. There was no stopping it now, his breath growing short as he dropped over that broad, sweaty back. The musky aroma filled his nose alongside the wide muscle of Vincent's lats in his arms as he clung tight.
Glutes clenched like a vice, muscle banding as they dimpled deep enough to hold softballs. Vincent threw his head back, bellowing as his stomach suddenly surged. It swelled across the table, abs forced to stretch and warp into a ball-like parody of themselves. The surge was enough to lift him from the table, having to quickly pull his knees forward as cum filled his stomach like a water balloon—or, in this case, like a beach ball.
Without his tail support, Bobert found himself slipping backward. His cock slipped from Vincent's abused donut with a wet pop, cum spraying across those dark cheeks. Luckily, he caught himself on the edge of the table before he could tumble onto the less-than-soft grass. He got smacked in the chest with his own cock for his effort; a mess of cum spattered over it as he let out a short noise of disgust.
Bobert skittered out of the way as that behemoth rolled over. The table sagged, metal bending subtly, squealing from the impact as he landed supine onto the expanse. His cock flopped over that turgid tum, slapping against bloated abdominals with the hollow sound of an inflated basketball.
The squirrel groaned, a sound that droned for several seconds as a meaty mitt stroked his distended stomach. Thick fingers caught over the rounded ridges of his stomach, tracing the contours and bumping a popped navel squeezed between them.
Bobert clicked his tongue as he moved closer, sidling between those pillar-like thighs. They were easily twice his size and twice as fun to touch. He traced the rolling curves of those teardrop-shaped quads, fingers tracing branching veins that inevitably trailed to his crotch.
"Looks like I gotta finish you too," Bobert said, wrapping both of his hands around the base of that obsidian spear. "Figures," he said with smug sarcasm. "Too big and dumb to get off on your own."
Bobert watched curiously as dark fingers reached for the watch that was straining over a furred forearm. A few taps on it brought it to life, the screen glowing a soothing cyan-blue. Veins lifted under his already taut pelt, climbing up that arm and into his chest before diving over his midsection. Bobert watched in wonder as that stomach churned angrily, gurgling as abdominals clenched and bulged.
It seemed the ornery otter ran out of commentary as the man grew bigger around him. Thighs pumped, thickening as they lifted higher, wrapping the sassy mustelid with mammoth quads. Powerful paws clumsily grabbed at him, forcing Bobert forward and onto his twitching cock.
"I get it, I get it!" Bobert hissed, unable to muster much sass as that liter-thick cock twitched in front of his muzzle. He let out a slow exhale as he leaned forward, lapping along the bulging urethra and tracing the helmeted glans of that engorged endowment. Pressed against his chest, he hugged the pillar of warm flesh to his chest, jerking it with his torso and arms. He could feel the heartbeat behind it, pulsating and twitching to the hammering rhythm.
Creaking in protest, the table slowly lowered as the squirrel's weight increased. This was inversely correlated with the size of his stomach. The bloat was slowly evaporating as the tightening abdominals constricted over the distended gallons of sticky seed, converting it into pure muscle mass.
He ignored the fact he was getting sweaty again, mingling with the slick that was applied by the muscled body swelling up and wrapping around him. Precum mingled with that salty mess, the squirrel's cock dribbling profusely, dripping down and plastering to Bobert's chest as he jerked.
The otter opened his mouth, wrapping around the head, licking into the gaping urethra. His moans traveled down that shaft, sucking in as much of the head as he could muster, arms nearly a blur over the length of that bobbing endowment.
Deep, guttural grunts signaled that the squirrel was close. His ass clenched, transforming into a feathered croissant as he arched high, powerful stomps spreading and crushing down the benches they perched upon.
The table couldn't take it anymore. Metal squealed as it pushed far beyond its breaking point. The plastic cracked in half as it hit the ground, but it didn't stop the coming flood. Bobert was forced back, the deluge nearly causing him to choke as his face was smothered in white. He coughed, wiping at it with his forearm even as Vincent's deep bass bellowed.
Round ears perked, hearing the patter of rain on the shop's metal roof. But…that wasn't right. Without a cloud in the sky, there was only one explanation as Bobert lifted his violet gaze. Ropes of sticky white cum shot into the air like a geyser, arcing high before coming down dramatically on the building, spattering and spraying over the red roof.
"Jeez," Bobert huffed as he leaned back, watching the hirsute brute blow his load. It was over just as nearly as it began, the last few ropes hitting the side of the building, lazily sliding down the fresh paint, and pooling onto the grassy earth.
"Hooo," Vincent exhaled with a giddy, euphoric giggle. "I really needed that…"
"You made a mess," Bobert grumbled, getting off the crumpled table so he could wipe the mess of sweat and spunk from his chest fur.
"Can't help it. Not when you're this big, Lil Bro," he said, flexing both mammoth arms now that he was sitting up. Those biceps peaked, splitting in half as they raced to embrace his curled knuckles.
"J-Just shut it and get dressed already!" Bobert whined, going so far as to stamp a petulant foot.
"Mmhhh… It's gonna be a while until I shrink back down. Can't fit in my overalls until then," he said with a smug little smile, buck front teeth flashing.
Bobert grumbled, swinging his hands around, dislodging the sticky mess adhered to them. "Where's my clothes?" he asked, peering around, failing to spot them at first. A pointed glance over a boulder-like shoulder and a grimace from Vincent clued him in. Under the growing puddle/pile of milky spunk was the discarded outfit.
"Sunnova bi—" Before Bobert could finish the screech, he found himself silenced by a warm mouth. Thoughts of his ruined clothes fell to the wayside as that soft tongue slid inside his maw, filling it with comforting warmth. This went on for a few moments, the otter pressed to burgeoning pecs that jutted over a whole foot from the rest of the squirrel's torso. Meaty digits played with his hair, a thumb stroking his cheek soothingly, the other caressing down his back and squeezing his rear—not being shy in handling the slender otter.
"Love you, Lil Bro," Vincent cooed as he broke the kiss, licking away traces of saliva.
Bobert fidgeted, his face on fire as he avoided looking into those affectionate crimson eyes. "L-Love you too…" he muttered, effectively mollified.
"When I shrink down, I'll just drive the truck by your place and get ya a replacement outfit," the squirrel said with that augmented bass, a smile on his face.
Bobert's expression tightened. "I'll be naked the whole time! How do you expect me to run a store without clothes?"
"I'm sure there's a spare towel or somethin' in the closet you can wear until then. Besides, they only see your top half anyway, right?"
"Th-that's beside the point!" he snapped, ears practically steaming.
"Besides, it won't take me long. Jus' gotta get the car dropped off at the shop and then I can grab your stuff."
"You said you'd go there first!" he squawked, pulling on tufts of long brown hair.
Vincent's toothy grin widened. "Yeah! But I still gotta do my job~"
"That's great for you! I can't do mine without them!" Bobert said, practically flailing. But the squirrel was already up and stretching, his herculean form rising like a meaty leviathan.
"I'm sure you'll manage, Lil Bro," he cooed, already moving around the building, his clothes tucked over his forearm, boots hooked and dangling from dense digits.
Bobert cursed under his breath, but he found he couldn't muster anything other than impotent frustration. The view of a bulked-out Vincent was too much for him to be angry, watching those cum-spattered cheeks sliding salaciously together as he walked. The worst part was, and he hated to admit it, being away from the attractive man rather than the embarrassing lack of modesty. 
"Goddamn it," he muttered, sagging in defeat.