Chelsea Disaster Pt. 08

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*Author’s Note: all characters depicted in sexual situations are 18 years or older*

“Alright, ladies, you’re free to go,” said the officer on duty.

The door of Chelsea and Lisa’s cell rattled open and the two hypers were allowed to waddle out and dress themselves in clothes from the donation bin. Chelsea and Lisa’s actual clothes had, of course, been completely destroyed during the surge incident that leveled much of the block.

“What, just like that?” asked Chelsea as she bounced to stuff her beachball-sized nuts into a pair of leggings with a hyper-pouch that looked like it might fit her. Her soft PAWG ass wobbled with each hop before falling all at once shoop! into the elastic fabric.

“Just like that,” said the policewoman, unable to conceal her fascination with Chelsea’s leg-sized member flopping up and down.

Hypers of all sizes often left clothes behind at the police station, which was fortunate because hypers leaving the police station were often in need of new clothes to replace the outfits they’d grown out of on their way in.

“Why are you letting us go?” asked Lisa.

Poor Lisa had spent the past three hours in a funk of despair repeating “I’m such a bad girl, I’m a bad girl!” over and over to herself.

“Someone paid your bail.” The policewoman shrugged.

“But who?” asked Lisa. “My mom said she wouldn’t be able to wire the money until tomorrow!”

“I think I have an idea,” said Chelsea as she caught sight of Damien Benedict’s valet Elmo waiting on the other side of the desk. There was no mistaking that hulking, gorilla-like physique anywhere.

The only thing Lisa could find to fit her was some kind of ballerina costume. Chelsea did her best not to laugh at the sight of the busty blonde flouncing around in a big, puffy tutu and pink leotard. The dose of Surge had completely flushed all the size suppressors out of Lisa’s system, so she had twelve feet of flaccid cock to contend with and a pair of balls the size of watermelons. After trying her dick all different ways, she eventually ran it up between her tits so that it stuck out her collar. She wrapped it around her shoulders like a boa.

“How’s it going, Elmo?” asked Chelsea as she waddled out from behind the desk. Her huge balls got caught in the narrow, wooden gate and the policewoman needed to give the stuck hyper a little kick in her plush booty to get her through.

Elmo, ever the man of few words, doffed his cap and bowed at the two hypers. He gestured for the pair to follow and led the way out of the station. The wooden doorframe creaked as he squeezed his broad shoulders through.

“You know that guy?” asked Lisa, peeking out from over Chelsea’s shoulder.

“He works for my boss,” said Chelsea. “He’s cool. Doesn’t say much.”

“Where’s he taking us?” asked Lisa.

“I hope it’s a hotel,” said Chelsea.

Lisa gave Chelsea a look.

“To sleep!” said Chelsea, blushing. “A hotel where we can sleep! I’m exhausted!”

But Elmo wasn’t taking them to a hotel to sleep. He escorted the two motley-dressed hyper futas out to the street, where a long, black stretch-limo waited with its engine idling.

The rear window rolled down to reveal Damien’s familiar, piggish face.

“Good morning, ladies,” said Damien. “Need a lift?”

Lisa eyed the limousine suspiciously. “I don’t know–“

“Yes!” said Chelsea, hurrying around the back to squeeze her huge package inside into the door on the opposite side.

“I saw what happened on the news,” said Damien once the two hypers were squished into the seat opposite him.

“Oh, God.” Lisa held her face in her hands.

“You ladies are lucky I just so happen to have made a sizable donation to the DA’s reelection campaign,” said Damien. “I was able to pull a few strings. All your charges have been dropped.”

“You’re kidding!” said Chelsea, leaning forward across the top of her bulge. “Ha ha!” she gave her right nut an exuberant slap, kicking her legs up and down in the cleavage between her nuts.

“That’s so generous,” said Lisa, gratefully.

“Think nothing of it my dear,” said Damien. “Incidentally, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, miss…?”

“Goodb–er… just call me Lisa,” said Lisa Goodballs.

“Enchente, Lisa,” said Damien, leaning forward to kiss her hand. He couldn’t actually reach her hand so Lisa had to awkwardly crawl forward until he could take her long, elegant fingers in his stubby palm.

“I really appreciate you breaking us out of jail,” said Chelsea. “But I hope you’re not expecting me to put on another show for you right now. I’m exhausted!”

“I don’t suppose you could drop us back at my place so we can get some sleep?” asked Lisa.

Damien looked apologetic. “I’m sorry but, there’s nothing left of the hyper home. Our beautiful miss Chelsea did too spectacular a job in destroying it, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry, Lisa,” said Chelsea, only just beginning to grasp the full repercussions mu─čla escort of her lapse in control.

“It’s not all your fault,” said Lisa. “It was that awful Maddie! I told you she was a bad girl!”

“Ladies, please! You two lovely creatures have nothing to worry about!” said Damien. “Now that Chelsea’s on my payroll, she’s entitled to all the perks!”

“Woah, woah, woah. ‘Payroll?'” asked Chelsea.

“Of course I’d be more than happy to put you and your partner up in a nice hotel while you search for a new place,” said Damien.

“Oh, Lisa and I aren’t–” Chelsea looked awkwardly at Lisa.

“That is to say we’re not uh…” Lisa looked at Chelsea.

Damien smirked. “Well it sounds like you two have a lot to talk about,” he said. “You will have plenty of time in your room at the Royal Garden Hotel.”

“R-royal Garden?” stammered Lisa.

“You’re putting us up in the Royal Garden?” Chelsea’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

“I told you, Chelsea; all the perks.” Damien smirked again. “That is, if you’re on the payroll.”

“Yuh-yu-yeah! Sure!” said Chelsea. “Of course I am!”

“Wait a minute, Chelsea.” Lisa put her hand on Chelsea’s chest and eased her back into her seat. “Do you even know what he’s asking of you?”

“I think I have some idea,” said Chelsea. She grabbed her balls and jiggled them, provoking a low rumble from the hyper-productive orbs.

“We can work out the details later. Right now, you two need some rest! It’s been a long night!” Damien smiled broadly. Lisa didn’t like the look of him, but Chelsea was already lost in the fantasy of a long bubble bath in one of the Royal Garden’s famous in-suite hot tubs.

The limousine dropped Chelsea and Lisa off at the entrance to the Royal Garden. The pair didn’t even have to check in, the manager was already there to welcome them.

“My name is May, I hope you enjoy your stay” said the manager, gesturing for the haggard girls to come inside.

“Hey, that rhymes,” said Lisa.

“Wow! Look at this place!” Chelsea twirled like a princess, staring up at the crystal chandeliers as she danced over the marble. The laws of momentum refused to be mocked in this way and Chelsea’s huge cock kept twirling after Chelsea’s feet had stopped. She overbalanced and went spinning right onto the floor, where she landed hard atop her fat sack.

Squorch! Multiple streams of translucent precum spurted out through the stretchy fabric of Chelsea’s bulging leggings. A bathtub’s worth of milky goop filled Chelsea’s pants and gushed out onto the immaculate marble tiles.

Other guests gasped and stared. People nearby retreated anxiously from the spreading puddle of ooze. The whole lobby broke into a buzz of whispers and angry muttering. The pungent stench of Chelsea’s musk filled the air and haughty women wrinkled their noses even as they soaked their panties.

Hyper musk was potent stuff, even in a large space like the lobby of the Royal Garden Hotel. Just a whiff can be overwhelming to some people. Within seconds every man in the room had a raging erection and every woman was ovulating.

Lisa was mortified. She blushed as red as a stoplight, feeling extremely exposed in this public place with ten feet of her cock wrapped around her shoulders like a feather boa. Nobody had even noticed her, however. Everyone was too busy watching as the staff rushed over to help Chelsea to her feet, only to slip and fall comically in the puddle of lubricating slime.

The manager hurried over and immediately slipped and fell on her ass. Chelsea tried to pull herself up to her feet by climbing up one of the bellhops, but he went down and Chelsea fell right on top of him. Every time someone would almost stand up, one of the people on the ground would pull them back down again. Lisa winced and could only bear to watch the humiliating scene by peeking through her fingers.

The writhing dogpile grew sloppier and more panicked. So many people grabbing, rubbing, and clinging to Chelsea’s cock and balls was starting to have an effect. The sound of Chelsea’s pants ripping echoed through the lobby as her fat cock burst free of its confines and flopped out onto the floor with a resounding slap!

“Oooh!” Chelsea fell on top of her colossal, precum-spewing member. Hot, potent gunk gushed from her gaping cumslit, spreading rapidly across the lobby floor, soaking into priceless carpet. Her balls swelled up behind her like hairy, veiny boulders. The rubbery, swollen lips of her hyper pussy gushed with clear juices.

“Oh, Chelsea, no…” groaned Lisa as Chelsea’s moans grew louder.

There was a minor stampede as guests tried to flee the lobby by the closest expedient path. Some ran out into the street, others made a dash for the elevator, whether they had keys or not. A few of the hotel staff were finally able to get to their feet, slipping and sliding like newbies at a roller rink. They held on for dear life to the throbbing ivy-thick mu─čla escort bayan veins that covered Chelsea’s burgeoning battering ram of a cock.

Chelsea’s dick stretched audibly as it responded to the stimulation of so many people clinging to it. The barrel-thick shaft of her schlong doubled in girth and nearly tripled in length, snaking across the floor like a giant anaconda. Her cock curved upward slightly as it stiffened.

Chelsea clenched and unclenched her toes, rocking her hips as if dry humping her own dick. It felt so good to grow! She’d denied herself for so long, it couldn’t hurt to indulge just a little bit, right?

Chairs and tables squeaked on the marble floors as Chelsea’s balls began to impinge on one of the opulent lounge areas. The rising, pink domes first shoved the furniture aside then, when they’d grown large enough, crushed them into kindling.

Lisa gasped and winced as leather upholstered chairs and mahogany coffee tables vanished beneath the rolling avalanche of Chelsea’s nuts.

As horrified as Lisa was at the sight of Chelsea’s ongoing hyper episode, she was even more terrified of the effect the sight of Chelsea had begun to have on her. Her own colossal schlong was growing steadily heavier around her shoulders as it lengthened and stiffened. Her melon-sized balls churned, straining against the pink spandex of her cheap ballerina costume.

Riiiiip! Lisa’s balls exploded out of her tights, bouncing free as big as beachballs. She had to do something, quick, or the Royal Garden would be demolished!

Chelsea’s cock nearly stretched the length of the entire lobby. Her balls–now almost a full story high–pressed up against the doors to the street, cutting off the exit. Chelsea knew she had to stop, part of her even wanted to stop, but she couldn’t muster the willpower to reign in her growth. Not yet.

“J-just a few more inches,” Chelsea mumbled. “Just a few more inches…”

Lisa spotted the lust-addled manager sitting in a puddle of Chelsea’s precum with her hand down the front of her skirt, grinning like a fool as she rubbed her clit in a horny haze.

Lisa dashed over to her. “Hey, snap out of it!” She swung her hefty cock around, swatting the woman across the face with a dick like an extra-long hug pillow.

The blow sent May the manager sliding across the lobby, slipping on Chelsea’s lubricant like a penguin sliding across the ice. She slammed into Chelsea’s right testicle, sinking a foot into the pliant sack before Chelsea’s scrotal elasticity asserted itself and flung the hapless woman back out the way she came. She skidded to a stop at Lisa’s feet.

“Hey!” Lisa snapped her fingers in front of the manager’s face. “Do you have a hyper emergency kit?”

All major public buildings had one. It was part of the building code. Fire extinguisher, first aid kit, hyper emergency kit.

“Oh r-right!” May staggered to her feet and scampered off to the check-in desk. She shoved a brainlessly masturbating clerk aside and dug underneath the desk until she pulled out a box with a silhouette of an ejaculating penis trapped inside a barred circle.

Inside the box were a respirator, a terrifying syringe the size of an old-fashioned bug sprayer, and a large vial of ultra-concentrated size suppressor. The respirator was to protect the wearer from the mind-altering effects of hyper musk.

May pulled the respirator over her face and locked the size suppressor into the injector.

BLOOOORP!

“Ahhhhhh!” Chelsea moaned as her cock blasted a firehose spray of steaming hot, milkshake-thick girlchowder clear across the room. The heavy rope splashed against an ornate bas relief with enough force to shatter the stone. People screamed as Chelsea’s balls rumbled and swelled in preparation for another cumshot. Her next rope was twice as big as the first, a torrent of sperm the size of hard boiled eggs thudded against the wall ricocheting off the stone and bouncing around the room like slimy superballs. They flopped and wriggled where they fell, struggling to seek out and impregnate any womb they could reach.

Chelsea’s balls tightened for another blast. A visible bulge appeared at the base of Chelsea’s cock, traveling up her shaft. Her urethra yawned like a water main, the colossal cumshut preceeded by a blast of hot wind.

GAGOOOSH! A rope of jizz as big around as a large pizza punched a hole through the bas relief sculpture and flooded the event hall beyond. The guests at the Schleisenger wedding reception received a nasty shock when one of the walls exploded and the entire room was flooded with hot girl goop. Buffet tables and guests alike were swept away in the tide of boiling sperm.

The new Mrs. Schleisenger got smacked across the face by a sperm the size of a trout while several dozen more fought to be the first to invade her womb. Poor Mr. Schlesinger’s first night with his wife would start with her already massively bloated escort mu─čla with Chelsea’s hyper creampie.

Chelsea’s balls rumbled again and the manager knew it was now or never. If Chelsea’s dick got any bigger, the pitiful little size-suppressor shot wouldn;t have any effect at all! She screamed a battle cry and leaped out from behind the check-in desk.

“Ky-Yaaa!” She plunged the oversized needle into Chelsea’s left nut and pushed the plunger with all her might.

“Hrnggg!” Chelsea crossed her eyes as she suddenly felt herself overcome with the biggest and most painful case of blue balls she’d ever experienced.

Her left ball contracted first, followed by her right testicle a few minutes later. Chelsea winced. Her nuts felt like they were huge lemons getting squeezed by a giant juicer. Low-pressure spunk gushed from her cock, squeezed out of her rapidly contracting scrotum. Every second was more uncomfortable than the last as her increasingly small cock was forced to handle proportionately larger volumes of spunk. The last few hyper sperm in her balls had to exit single file.

Foomp! Foomp Foompfoompfoomfoomp! The football-sized sperm shot from her dick like tennis balls from a ball-launcher.

“Ahhhh! Holy crap!” screamed Chelsea as her dick fired off oversized sperm like a machine gun.

She collapsed into the ocean of hot goo. Her sack ached as if Mike Tyson had just used her scrotum as a speedbag. Hyper sperm flapped against her face and got tangled in her hair, wriggling in a desperate attempt to escape.

Lisa ran over to her.

“Chelsea! Chelsea! Are you okay! Speak to me!” She kneeled down in the muck, heedless of the giant sperm that battered the seat of her pink leotard.

“Ughh…” Chelsea groaned.

The blonde plucked a giant sperm out of Chelsea’s hair and cradled her head in her arms.

“Are we getting kicked out?” asked Chelsea, weakly.

Lisa surveyed the destruction. She was squatting in a dick-shaped crater of cracked marble, waist deep in hyper cum. Shocked, cum-covered people staggered around blindly, looking more like slimy snowmen than human beings. From where she was standing, she could count six women with wombs distended by Chelsea’s spunk, including the tearful bride sobbing on the opposite side of a huge hole that used to be an expensive sculpture.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Lisa, sadly.

The manager laid her hand on Lisa’s shoulder.

“I know, I know,” said Lisa. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh no! Not at all!” said May, smiling a forced smile so broad it made the Stepford Wives look natural. “We hope you’ll accept my sincerest apologies on behalf of the Royal Garden staff for inadvertently and carelessly triggering your condition!”

“My… condition?” asked Chelsea.

“She’s talking about your huge honking hyper weenie,” said Lisa.

“Oh, right,” said Chelsea.

“Mister Benedict was quite explicit in his instructions regarding your medical needs and I’m afraid our staff did not adhere to proper protocol for accommodating a guest with special needs such as yours.” May was still smiling. The strain of maintaining her grin was starting to show.

“What?” Chelsea was so used to being treated as some sort of monster she had no idea how to handle someone apologizing to her!

“We hope you’ll be willing to sign these release forms, absolving us of any liability for your unfortunate incident.” The manager gestured to her right, where a smartly-dressed concierge stood up to his shins in girlchowder.

The concierge clicked a ballpoint pen and proffered a clipboard of papers to Chelsea, prompting her to sign on the dotted line.

Chelsea stared stupidly at the release form.

“You’re afraid of me suing you?” She looked around at the utterly destroyed lobby of the fanciest hotel in town.

May just grinned nervously. She breathed a sigh of relief as Chelsea signed the papers.

A few minutes later, the three of them were in the elevator on their way up to the Jasmine Suite. Chelsea, Lisa and May all stood in awkward silence, punctuated only by the periodic drip of spunk off the girls’ clothes. Despite the elevator’s spacious interior, it still felt crowded thanks to the intensity of the smell and Chelsea’s third leg resting on her beachball-sized balls. The size-suppressor seemed to have run out of steam before truly shrinking Chelsea’s cock down to a manageable size.

Chelsea tried to apologize. “I’m really sor–“

“It’s really no trouble!” interrupted May, once again forcing a grin.

The bell dinged and the three debarked the gold and mahogany elevator into a long, plush carpeted hallway. May escorted the women to a pair of double doors with an engraved gold plaque that read “Jasmine Dream Suite” in fancy script.

“Wait, Jasmine Dream as in the Jasmine Dream? The glamorous hyper pop star?” exclaimed Lisa.

“Yes, the Royal Garden Hotel has had the honor of hosting many hyper celebrities throughout the years, including Jasmine Dream, Gianelli Franklin, Big Billy Beef, and Millie “Mile Long” Martin.” The pride in May’s voice was unmistakable.

“Rest in Peace, Millie,” Chelsea and Lisa both recited in unison. Lisa kissed her first two fingers and held them up to the sky.

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