For two office workers, an elevator ride becomes a growing, swelling, sloshing experience as they're turned into a big goofy toon wolf and gator. Mature.
On one side of the elevator stood Andrew. On his way back from a late lunch, he hadn't expected to run into anyone he knew. Okay, 'knew' was a bit of a stretch, since he didn't even know her name, but he knew she worked in Legal up on the fifty-second floor, that he was intimidated by how good she looked in a pantsuit, and that he wouldn't be able to say a word to her without stumbling over his own tongue.
On the other side of the elevator was Breana. She'd just gotten out of a meeting with one of their clients. She couldn't help feeling a little jealous of Andrew, who didn't have to haul out a stuffy suit jacket or wear heels every time he had to meet someone new. She didn't know his name either, but she recognized him from the couple of times she'd been down to Finance on the forty-third floor. They'd never had the chance to talk before.
"So," she said, breaking the silence as they waited for the doors to close. "You like Dopey Ditties?"
Andrew was caught completely off guard. "Um, what?"
"You have a, uh, B.B. Wolf mug on your desk." Great idea, she thought, kicking off a conversation with old cartoons. Not weird at all. "I always liked Al A. Gator."
"Oh. He's pretty cool," Andrew said, for lack of anything better to say.
The doors swung shut on the lobby and, mercifully giving Breana an excuse to go quiet again, the elevator chimed, "Going up."
The two of them were about to get know each other real well.
Something tugged against the pit of Andrew's stomach. It wasn't just the lurch of the elevator starting to move; it was an insistent pressure, pushing out from inside of him. He braced one hand against the wall and held in a groan. Was it something he'd ate? No, he'd had the same kind of salad wrap and chips he'd had twenty times before.
Once his belly began to bloat outward, it became obvious that it wasn't indigestion. The front of his shirt pouched out around his stomach and his belt felt as if it was drawing tighter around his waist. Cold sweat broke out across his shoulders. Just let him make it to his floor, he thought. Whatever was happening, he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of someone he sort-of had a crush on. He tried to shove his belly back down without calling attention to it, but it squished between his fingers like soft, jiggly gel and bounced back up once he let go.
His stomach let out a low, hungry gurgle as a protest against the increasingly tight squeeze of his shirt. His cheeks flushed red. Oh god, had she heard that?
The answer was no, because Breana was distracted in her own way. The air seemed to have suddenly gone hot and muggy, making her suit feel stifling and her shirt cling to her chest. Tugging at her collar didn't help much, so instead she popped open the first two buttons of her top to give herself some room to breathe. Head tipped back and eyes closed, she breathed in deeply. Her chest rose, then shoved several inches of solid bulk out against the front of her shirt with a heavy thunk!
Her clothes only grew tighter and more uncomfortable. Her jacket drew so taut across her shoulders that the seams creaked as she reached down to open it. With each breath she took, her bulging pectorals strained against the collar of her shirt. She leaned back and let out a deep sigh. As soon as she was back in her office, she was going to lock the door and strip down and change into something more comfortable. A few seams popped as she tried to roll her broadening shoulders.
Her bra had finally had enough; its straps burst open with a snap. Ah, damn it. Now she definitely needed to change.
The elevator chimed in to say, "Going...out."
Andrew had been trying to hold back his belly but now it suddenly billowed outward. His shirt was tugged skin-tight across the dome of his gut, with big diamonds of bare flesh peeking out between the straining buttons. The churning pressure inside of him, unable to force his shirt to stretch any further, squeezed out into the rest of his body. His hips and thighs bulged outward, his cheeks puffed up, and his fingers fattened. With his face twisted into a grimace, he clawed at the front of his shirt, jammed his fingers in between the buttons, and pulled as hard as he could.
The buttons snapped free with a series of pops and clattered to the floor. His belly sloshed outward, now with only his belt to hold it in. Andrew couldn't unbuckle it; he had swollen up too big too fast. He could only wince and grit his teeth and push. The top of his gut inched up higher and higher, sitting on top of his belt like a shelf, until the buckle finally burst open.
His belly boinged free, taut and round, with broad yellow scales stretched across the front. It wobbled outward in all directions; not so much fattening as blowing up like a balloon. His thighs were shoved apart and his chest was lifted up by his inflating belly. He grasped at it, frantically trying to shove it back down to size, but his fingertips just slipped across the smooth scales. His knees buckled under his new weight, but as his legs crumpled, they thwumped out, ripping straight through his slacks and shoes. His hips were thrust wide to either side of his belly, his knees were bent into a squat stance, and his toes popped and cracked into three fat claws per foot. Swamp-green scales covered the entirety of his pudgy gator legs.
The first impulse Andrew had was to try to stand up straight, but his legs weren't meant for that, so he wound up staggering back, slipping, and falling onto his ass instead. His belly bounced against the ground, then lurched back up with the rest of him as a thick stub of a tail shot out from the small of his back and launched him up onto his feet again.
Precariously balanced on his claws, he stared down at his pear-shaped body. Then his eyes focused in on the round, swollen tip of his nose, protruding an inch or two from his face. It was tinged with green, just like his cheeks, almost as if he was blushing. "Oh no," he gasped under his breath, clapping his hands across his budding little snout.
While all that was going on, Breana had been dealing with her own growth spurt. Her pecs pressed up against her shirt, filling it so tight they squeezed up and overflowed the collar. They heaved up and down with her heavy breathing while she wrestled with her shirt, determined to tear it off. She needed to get out of her suit, and the fact that she was sharing the elevator with someone else was just a dim reminder in the back of her brain.
Her lips curled and her nose wrinkled as she snorted in a deep breath. In response, her shoulders puffed out, huge and broad, splitting through her jacket and shirt all at once. With another breath, her biceps popped out, tearing apart her sleeves as they tensed. Dark gray fur poked out of the rips in her jacket. Her swollen arms strained while she sucked in deep, furious breaths, then with a rubbery bwoing huge pink paw pads erupted from her hands, spreading her fingers wide open. She clenched her new paws, squeezing until—poink-poink-poink!—short claws sprouted from her fingertips.
Hunched over, she sunk her claws into her shirt, then threw her head back, chest out, ripping her suit to shreds. Her bulging back and shoulders cracked and popped, finally able to flex their new strength. Her pecs barreled through the scraps of her suit that still hung from her shoulders, bursting out in fur and stretching her frame bigger and broader and burlier.
Abs rippled down her stomach, only to be swallowed a second later by her pelt. Her head hunched forward, weighed down by the bulk of her growing neck. Her swollen red tongue lolled out of her mouth and her lips curled into a grin. After being cooped up in that stupid suit for so long, it felt good to be free. Her nose wrinkled , then popped as it sprung forward and dragged her chin along with it. Growing rounder and darker with each deep breath, it poked out from the tip of her new stubby muzzle.
Breana flopped her tongue across her bulging lower lip to wet it. One of her big paws rolled down her front, cupping her jutting pecs before roaming down to the crotch of her pants, where a bulge tented out between her thighs. As her paw pads squeezed and stroked her new protrusion, her eyes rolled back into her head. It throbbed against palm, and with each pulse, it bloated up bigger and bigger, until it threatened to tear through her pants.
She didn't care if the cute guy from Finance saw her. She didn't care if anyone saw her. It was like a burden had been lifted from her back, and she wouldn't trade a whole month of vacation time for how relaxed and invigorated she felt right now. Why would she ever hold herself back when she could let it all out?
The elevator shuddered beneath her as Andrew was launched back onto his feet by his tail suddenly sprouting. Breana glanced over, and as her eyes took in the bulging curve of his belly, her lips curled into a hungry grin.
"Hey, lizard-boy!" she snapped, her voice a rough growl. She threw a paw around Andrew's shoulder and pulled him in against her side. "I like your gut." She jabbed with a finger to watch it slosh from side to side.
Andrew's cheeks burned. He stared at Breana's wolfish face and blinked a few times before what she'd said clicked through to his brain. "You...like my what?"
Breana slapped Andrew's stomach, then gripped it tightly between her paw pads, squishing and kneading his smooth, elastic scales. A hot shiver ran down his tail. Oof, that felt—gh-good... His eyelids fluttered and his pink, pointed tongue spilled out of his mouth. The only sound he could make was a dizzy squeak of delight.
"Your gut." She grinned and leaned in until she was nearly growling into his ear. "Your big, fat belly."
As much as Andrew tried to stay still, he couldn't keep himself from leaning into Breana's paw and letting out a pleasant groan. Why did it have to feel so nice?
"Growing snouts!" announced the elevator's speakers.
Breana's cheeks twitched. Her nose quivered. She scrubbed at it with the back of her paw, but the tingling about-to-sneeze feeling was crawling all over her face. At last, she grabbed her whole stubby muzzle in her hand and yanked as hard as she could. It stretched like putty, with her fat nose and tongue sticking out the other side of her fist. From somewhere between her ears came a schlooorp like someone sucking a bowl of jello through a hose. She tugged on her snout a couple times; there was so much wet goopy glorpy stuff inside her head and she wanted it all out. Her eyes crossed. Her ears popped as they shot up on top of her head. At last, she let go. Her new snout sprung back and thwacked her square in the face, then wobbled up and down until it came to rest. It jutted out at least a foot long, covered in gray fur, bulging even bigger toward its tip, and capped with a round black nose as big as a tennis ball.
Her tongue spilled out over her jaw. It was huge and swollen, bright red, glistening with drool, and fatter than a sausage squashed into a U-shape. It slurped up over nose and gave her new lupine muzzle a wet, slobbery lick. Her head felt so much lighter and freer, now that all the heavy stuff crammed into it was flopping around between her fangs. Tongues were way less uptight than brains.
"Mmm, now that's morrRRRrre like it!" Whaddaya think, lizard-boy?" she asked, rubbing her paw proudly along the top of her snout.
Andrew shrunk back, trying to squeeze his way out of her grip. "It's uh...pretty big."
"I know! Ain't it gr-rrRReat? You oughta try it!" Whirling around, she let go of Andrew's shoulder and shoved both paws up against his belly, slamming him back against the wall. Her pants tore to tatters as her legs flexed their new muscles. The toes of her high heels split open; her paws burst out and sunk their claws into the tiled floor.
A heavy grunt wedged its way out of Andrew's throat. All his kicking and squirming only churned his belly up even more. It gurgled against Breana's pushing, kneading, squeezing paws until—fthoomp! His tail shot out from underneath his belly, bulging as it flopped out along the floor, three times as long and twice as thick.
Breana lapped her lips. "Ooh, love a nice piece a' tail!"
Andrew felt a queasy sense of pride over the size of his tail. It was even thicker around than Breana's overgrown biceps. But he didn't want to be big, he wanted to be...what, normal? Average? Forgettable? So shy about his own body that he couldn't enjoy being big and round enough to make a gator green with envy?
Bracing his arms against the wall, he gasped, "H-hey, calm down—oof!"
A fresh shove from Breana's paws sent his eyes spinning again. The squeeze against his broad belly scales sent a tender, tantalizing shiver from his shoulders all the way down to the tip of his tail. The pressure grew tighter and tighter, until with a great big slosh his chest bloated outward, stretched wide by the broad dome of his belly. Green scales followed in its wake, rising up over his shoulders and spilling down his swelling arms. His fingers cracked and curled into claws as his palms puffed out into thick, clumsy mitts.
Moving her hands lower and pushing upward, Breana growled, "C'mon, you gotta have a snout somewhere in there."
Andrew's neck bulged out as the pressure forced its way up into his head, squeezing out into his cheeks and chin before building up against his short, bulbous snout. Scales hugged his face and slithered up over his scalp while the strain grew tighter and tighter, until—sproing! His snout erupted from his face, long and broad and tapered. His eyes rolled back as his ears slurped back into his head. His jaw slumped open and his long tongue spilled out over his plump green lip.
His eyes blinked out of sync as they struggled to focus. Half of his vision was taken up by some huge green thing jutting out in front of him. He reached up, grasped for it, and closed his hands around...his snout. He squished the broad, rounded tip between his fingers. "Wuth...?" he lisped. A reluctant grin curled around his jaws. His mind felt lazy and sluggish, and with Breana's paws pressed against his belly, he just wanted to slump down into her arms. "Tho...biiig." Something itchy in the back of his brain told him he didn't want to be big, but he couldn't remember why it was a problem in the first place.
As Breana's paws let go of his belly, he let out a deep, satisfied sigh and slurped his tongue back into his mouth. Then Breana leaned in until they were snout-to-snout, pressed up tight against Andrew so that her bulging crotch was grinding against the underside of his stomach, with a constant squeaking sound like two balloons being rubbed together. "Now you're getting the idea! Feels r-rrRRRrreal good to let loose, don't it?"
Andrew dug his feet in against the floor and arched his back to squeeze himself tighter against Breana's body. His tail slapped eagerly against the floor and he growled out loud. "Oooh, yeaaah..." he rumbled. Worrying was too much work. Far better to relax and enjoy himself. But in the back of his brain, his lingering self-consciousness let out a little twinge. "Y'don't mind how...big I am?"
"Mind?" Breana snorted. "A bad ol' gator like you is supposta be big!"
Exactly. Why should he feel bad about being himself? If anyone was bothered by the fact that he was a gator, that was their problem, wasn't it? He could be as big as he wanted to be.
With nothing to hold it back, his belly creaked outward. His feet skidded across the floor as his hips splayed even wider. The more he let himself unwind, the more pleasantly gatorish he felt. A hungry growl rumbled up from his stomach and drool dripped from his lip as he imagined snapping up whole fish and plucked chickens between his jaws. His tail wouldn't let itself be left behind; it bloomphed out so thick he was practically perched up on top of it. His bright yellow eyes fluttered half-open. He could just imagine basking in the sun, stroking his scales, stretched out on the shore of a shady swamp.
Being anything but a lazy gator felt ridiculous. How could he work a desk job when he couldn't even fit through the door of the cubicle, let alone sit down in some tiny office chair. There was just too much of him to be squished back down into Andrew from Finance. Who was he? That was easy: Al A. Gator.
Al cracked a grin so big it made his eyes squint up. "Aw, thanks pal!" he boomed out, tossing his arms around Breana's shoulders and yanking her down into a tight hug—which only squashed the two of them even tighter together and bumped Breana's big nose up against Al's snout. "I ain't been feeling quite myself lately, hee-hee-hee! How 'bout you?"
As she stared into the gator's amber eyes, the fur along her back bristled and her tail started wagging. Hungry wolfish thoughts ran through her mind: gobbling down juicy red steaks, hopping fences with a fluffy sheep tucked under one arm, howling at the moon in the middle of the night. A wolf didn't have to wear stuffy jackets and uncomfortable heels, didn't have to pretend to be polite, didn't have to listen to anyone but their own snout. A wolf could be as big and bad as they wanted.
Gosh, that sounded real good. In fact...
Big Bad Wolf threw back his head and let out a how-ow-OOOWL so loud it shook the elevator. His head slumped back down, his eyes now gleaming yellow too. "Mmm," he growled, grinding against Al's belly, "I feel...better and badder than ever!" He slipped a paw behind Al's head and snickered. "Now c'mere and gimme a kiss."
"Aw, B.B., ya big horn dog—mmph!"
Their snouts squashed together as they locked lips. Fat drops of drool dripped down between them. Their slobbery, slurping kiss was accompanied by a rhythmic slosh-schloorp as their muzzles jammed against one another, sprung back, then squeezed together again, over and over. Each time, their snouts bulged out even longer and thicker and heavier. B.B.'s black nose plumped up until it had grown fatter than a melon. Al's swollen snout dragged him back into the kiss again and again, like the bigger it got the more he just wanted to mash it up against the wolf's massive maw and make out.
B.B. planted his paws against Al's shoulders and pushed as hard as he could. Schhh-plop! Their lips popped free from one another. B.B.'s big, bulbous snout had doubled in size, jutting out a full two feet from his face. Al's snout was broader and more tapered toward the tip, but made up for it with another six inches in length. Cross-eyed and wagging his tail, B.B. lapped eagerly at his new snout, while Al stroked the top of his muzzle and let out a satisfied growl.
"You're a real good kisser," Al said.
B.B. puffed out his chest and stuck his nose high in the air. "With a snout like this, I gotta be!"
The elevator bobbed to a stop and let out a cheery ding. "Floor forty-three, Shady Swamp."
The doors swung open on the carpeted floors, pink-walled cubicles, and fluorescent lighting of the Finance division—in other words, a perfectly normal floor of an office building, and definitely not a swamp.
That didn't stop Al, though, who squashed himself through the doors and strode out ahead, his belly boing-boinging off the floor front of him. "Ahh, home sweet home!" he sighed.
"You sure?" B.B. asked. He climbed out over Al's tail, then gave it a kick to clear it out of the way of the closing doors. "Seems a bit nice for a swamp, don'tcha think?"
The bustle of business went quiet. People poked their heads out around corners and up over their cubicle walls. Pens fell to the floor. File folders spilled onto to the ground. Everyone stared at Al and B.B., who stuck out so badly that it was hard to believe they were there and not drawn on some separate layer on top of reality. A stray phone kept ringing , like it hadn't gotten the memo about the two toons who'd just stumbled out of the elevator.
"What'samatter? Never seen a wolf before?" B.B. barked. "Maybe we oughta show 'em..."
Al snickered and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Hold yer horses. Watch this—"Hefting his belly in both arms, he pushed himself off the ground with his tail, leaping several feet into the air, then coming back down with a thunderous SLAM!
A shockwave rolled across the floor, knocking over file cabinets and toppling chairs. In its wake, tall grass and cattails sprouted up as desks and dividers sunk into the floor, dragged under by creeping vines. People leapt up from their chairs to find their feet splashing down into the swampy muck that had been the carpet. Roots erupted from the ground and swallowed up copiers and fax machines which became embedded in the twisting trunks of cypress trees. Choruses of colorful toadstools popped out of the high ground around their roots. Light fixtures flickered, then fell open to let hanging moss spill out. A sprouting branch popped the thermometer clean off the wall, and as it splashed down into the growing mire, the air turned as hot and humid as soup in an instant.
The office, which was quickly vegetating into an overgrown swamp, broke out into a very reasonable panic.
Some people had scampered into the stairwell before the carpet had become waist-deep muck; others tried to wade through it, but fell in and lurched back out covered in scales, stumbling over their own swelling bellies as they tried to wedge themselves through the door before they became too gatorized. A whole crowd had piled into the elevator behind Al and B.B., and what was going to happen to them was anyone's guess. The remainder were clambering up onto desks and shelving units, trying to keep from sinking down into the swamp.
B.B. surveyed the chaos, panting and wagging his tail. He grinned over at Al. "You don't mind if I have a little fun with some of these folks, do ya?
"Naw, I got some new gators I oughta introduce myself to," he said with a snicker. "But once we're done, you gotta show me 'round your place. Haven't visited the woods in a while now."
While Al waded off to grab one of the growing gators stuck in the mud and show them a tail-slapping good time, B.B. spotted a victim of his own—crouched on top of a sinking water cooler with nowhere to run to. The sight of vulnerable prey got him drooling and sent all his hungry wolf instincts into overdrive.
Snatching up the man by his tie, B.B. shoved his snout into his face, panting so hard it blew his hair back. "Hey, cute stuff," he growled, "you gonna be lamb chops or venison? Let's find out!"
He planted a wet smack on the man's lips, then yanked back so hard his whole face stretched like taffy. When the wolf finally let go, it snapped back into place, leaving the man staring cross-eyed at his big pink nose and fluffy white cheeks.
B.B.'s eyes lit up as he loomed over him. "Don't worry, honey-bun. I'm fresh outta carrots, but I'll find somethin' to fill you up."
Meanwhile, a floor below in Marketing, water began to drip from the ceiling...