*Author's note: all characters depicted in sexual situation are age 18 or older*
Somehow Chelsea and Lisa managed to evade the police.
They couldn't escape the stares of passers-by however. Both of them were coated head to toe in a glistening layer of pussy juice.
"We're soaked!" groaned Chelsea. "I can't go to my interview like this!"
"My place is just a few minutes away," said Lisa. "We can clean up there and change clothes."
***
"Don't you have anything besides yoga clothes?" Chelsea tugged uncomfortably at the spandex bunching between her nutsack and thighs. Thanks to the size suppressors her cock wasn't quite as long as Lisa's, even if it was fatter. She didn't even fill out the third leg to its full length. Unfortunately, the three-legged stretch pants had been designed more with length than girth in mind, and the black-haired hyper had already popped a few seams.
Chelsea felt exposed and self-conscious in the form-fitting tight clothes. She hadn't exactly been diligent about diet or exercise since becoming a shut in, and the unforgiving spandex put her muffin top on full display. Not to mention the pants made her already large ass look positively gigantic.
"They're the only clothes I own stretchy enough to fit you," explained Lisa, who was dressed more conservatively in a ruffled blouse and ankle-length pleated skirt.
They laid towels down on the carseats and punched the address of Chelsea's "job interview" into the GPS.
The journey took them far away from Seattle and out into the vast pine-covered mountain range outside Mt. Vernon, to the high gate at the bottom of a long driveway.
"Are you sure this is the place?" asked Lisa, craning her neck to see the screen on Chelsea's phone.
"There's nowhere else for miles, this has to be it," said Chelsea.
"This looks like somebody's mansion. What kind of job are you applying for?" asked Lisa.
"Uhhh, maid. I'm applying to be a maid," lied Chelsea.
Thinking back to the disaster at Chelsea's apartment, Lisa's lips tightened.
"Well good luck with that," she said. Then added, "Do you want me to come in with you?"
"No, I'll probably be a while," answered Chelsea. "I'll call when I need to be picked up."
"Suit yourself." Lisa shrugged.
"Hey, Lisa..." Chelsea leaned in close. "I really... REALLY appreciate everything you've done for me these past few days."
"It was nothing!" Lisa smiled. "Hypers gotta look out for each other!"
"I promise I'll make it all up to you," said Chelsea.
"You don't owe me anything," said Lisa, blushing furiously.
Chelsea closed her eyes and leaned in, as if for a kiss. Lisa felt the heat rising in her loins and knew the car was very quickly about to become too small for her cock if she stayed much longer.
"Uhh, knock 'em dead, tiger!" said Lisa, hurriedly. She put the car into gear and sped off.
Chelsea sighed and walked up to the speaker box mounted on the gate.
Bzzz!
"Hi uhh, it's—" Chelsea began.
"Chelsea!" answered an excited voice at the other end. "Chelsea Disaster! Come in, come in!"
"It's Desastre, actually—" Chelsea tried to correct him, but she was cut off by a loud buzz as the gates started to swing open.
Just as Chelsea was groaning at the thought of making the long walk up the driveway to the barely visible mansion at the top of the hill, a golf cart appeared around the bend from behind a stand of pine trees. Chelsea had to do a double take when she saw the driver. He was one of the biggest men (or women?) Chelsea had ever seen. Seeing the driver crammed into the cart with their knees up against their chest made Chelsea think of those bears at the circus who drove around in tiny cars.
No, it was a man. She was sure of it after he stepped out of the cart. A hyper-muscled man. He towered over her, fully eight feet tall. His bulging muscles strained at the seams of what must have been a custom-tailored black suit. His tie looked comically small, almost lost in the bulge of his pectorals and looped around the bull-like arches of his trapezius muscles that completely engulfed his neck. As befitting a hyper, he also sported a python-like cock snaking down the right leg of his pants clear down to his bulging calf.
"If you please, miss Desastre," grunted the huge man, gesturing toward the golf cart.
Chelsea got in the back. The golf cart groaned as the gigantic man squeezed himself behind the wheel, and away they went.
Exquisitely-carved marble statues flanked the driveway in pairs leading all the way up to the manor house. Chelsea blushed at the sight of the figures' proportions. All the statues depicted hyper-endowed men and women in heroic poses, their gargantuan breasts and genitals often obscuring the body of the figure behind.
The owner of the sprawling mansion greeted the pair at the towering, gilded doors of the luxurious main house. He would have been short by any standards, but compared to his towering servant the man looked positively tiny.
"Such an honor to meet you at last!" said the little man, grasping Chelsea's right hand with both of his and shaking vigorously.
"N-nice to meet you, as well," stammered Chelsea, the small man still pumping her arm vigorously.
"But where are my manners?" he said. "Please, let me introduce myself! Damien Benedict, at your service."
"D-damien Benedict?" Chelsea reeled. "The owner of Benedict Pharmodyne?"
Damien Benedict was the wealthiest, most powerful pharmaceutical mogul in the world, largely thanks to cornering the market on size-suppressor drugs that kept the hypers of the world from completely flooding the planet with cum, milk, and other fluids.
Damien scratched his pudgy chin self-consciously.
"Well, actually that's my father. Technically I'm Damien Benedict Junior."
"Oh!" Chelsea breathed a little sigh of relief. "I thought I remembered the real Damien Benedict being taller—shit! I mean..."
Damien Junior waved her worries away.
"Think nothing of it my dear," he said. "As I was saying, please call me Damien. And this—" he gestured to the hulking man that cast them both in shade, "Is my valet, Elmo."
"Nice to meet you, Elmo," said Chelsea.
Elmo bowed slightly, an action that sent all the seams in his suit creaking and popping.
