I hand Eito a potion. He takes it from my snow leopard paw, giving the emerald substance an inquisitive look with a magnified cheetah eye.

“What is it, Felicity?”

“You did say you’d humor my fantasies.” I press my cheekbone into his lithe feral foreleg. I feel a thrum in his throat, though he’s no longer engaged with me; he’s pondering the item. Nosing his shoulder, I whisper coyly, “Well, this is one of them. And it’s for drinking, not just for looking.”

“Something I’ll like?”

Whether I answer him straightforward or not won’t sway the mood. Not when his ground-mounted balls (he’s sitting on his haunches) have swollen from the size of coconuts to the size of honeydew. His barbed lance of penis copiously leaks its pre ichor between his forelegs: the result of him not claiming me for two days.

“Something you’ve never chewed over. Never dreamed of,” I tell him, pacing in an easy circle to face him. “But I dream big. And you’ll love big. Now drink.”

I fetch back the potion from his paw, rearing into an almost anthropomorphic pose to reach the lips of Eito, who’s about half a size larger than me. He tries to lean away (the skeptic of my apprentice alchemy he is), but once I get his lips pursed, he’s glugging the stuff down; his ears bolt up in gratification, along with the frequency of his precumming.

“Mmmh, mmmmmh mmmmmh…”

My hindlegs quiver from supporting me, but I reach higher still to feed him the last half. “Drink, my thirsty Eito.”

I love watching the gulps go down Eito’s tawny gullet as much as I love thinking of how big he’ll grow to be — in both senses. Pulses of an emerald glow shudder my hung mate’s frame, and after he sips the last drop, the glow doesn’t go away.

Eito sets the empty glass aside and sighs. I fall back onto my forelegs, and I find the cheetah licking his lips hungrily, prowling toward me. I know half of the lip-licking attests to the smoky, aromatic flavor of the potion. That other half, though, refers to a craving instilled in him by the potion: a craving for my body. It’s made clear not merely by his tempered predatory gait, but by the fervor the hot musk of his crotch inspires in me as he paces behind me. I feel the nipples of my mammary glands harden and I raise my pelvis to permit him entrance, my tail curling as his forelegs step beside mine and his haunches step over my tail. Growling my name into my ear, Eito arches his rear, thrusting his sizeable dick head against my spreading pussy. “Felicity, I have so much to fill you with,” he whispers, moving his hips quicker to push his barbed head deep through my vaginal walls. I gasp to those first few titillating inches. Eito grabs me under my belly with one forepaw, bracing against me with every of his own blows, causing my right foreleg to rise and its paw to snatch at the air in my pleasure. My other legs quiver terribly. I faintly hear myself moan, hunkering over to the overwhelming sensations of my flesh not stimulated for two days, despite how used to taking Eito’s endowments I should be. My head starts to loll to mimic my body till Eito nips down on the scruff of my snowy neck, pulling it upright.

More of his length, he reams into me. He skips forward, slight rhythmic skips, on his hindpaws as he sheathes his huge penis nearly to the base, now nipping closer to the back of my skull, now snorting over down on my temple between my shuddering folded ears, gazing right down on my twisted-shut eyes with his own, barely open, blazing and amber.

I can’t glance up far enough to see them, but I know they’re on me, glistening with a subtle intellect. Perhaps not with the dreamy twinkle of mine. But his eyes speak of physical experience picked up quickly by an intuitive gift. The first times we mated, he saw how I reacted when he clutched me, bit into my neck, and purred as he brought me to his very hilt. He watches the lines on my face tighten and release as I pant and pant, learning how to better please me even now. Suddenly, Eito hears me gasp aloud and feels my frame deliciously bend out of shape. My sweetest of spots — the spot nearest to my clitoris — aches from the rough, moist massage of barbs.

Many males would never find that spot again. But Eito, so keen, so practised, doesn’t allow the sensation to cease: he memorizes exactly how he now left me reeling, then continues to thrust, and thrust, and thrust, only reaching parts of me more and more responsive. Letting out a joyful chirp, I ejaculate, wetting my pussy with my own clear nectar. How does he learn so quick? Fluids drizzle over his girthy meat and over my vulva, smelling of pheromones and of male musk and of precum.

I start to collapse in Eito’s grip, but he holds fast to my belly — his heavy balls gurgling and shaft slurping in and out of me. As he edges his climax, he slows his pace, every one of his breaths hard and heaving, every throb of his member jostling my body. Then he blows inside of me, my snowy middle bloating up inch by inch, until swollen with a gallon and a half of Eito’s virile cheetah cum.

Only then does he let me sink over the ground soaked in our juices. He sinks over me, warmly and shakily rumbling, still thrusting into me but now with a tenderness, a coziness. I feel like I’ve woken from a pristine slumber, the sensation serene: I’m so sleepy, yet so recharged. His balls shrunken to the size of coconuts slap against my backend less and less until he’s still, sprawled over me as a pelt, his rumbles and breaths and cooling heartrate the only signs he’s still alive.

He hums for a number of heartbeats. So do I. Our song and our flesh feel are unified, the afterglow of our sex as splendid as the papaya-sky sunsets of the plains.

The emerald glow over my mate begins to pulse in time with our synced heartbeats. Then, it speeds up to my own thrill. It’s happening: my ovulation kickstarted by his seed triggers the potion’s Dream effect. And right now, my Dream is for Eito to grow. Every second, Eito grows larger and heavier top of me; both his musk and his already girthy cock thicken. Waves of arousal ripple through my pussy’s narrow canal, which swells, cramps and quivers so achingly to the growing cheetah’s member. I squall and mewl and pant. I writhe hard in my throes, wanting nothing more than for Eito to grow, grow, grow into the greatest feral cat the plains has ever seen.

Eito soars from 3.75 feet tall at the shoulder to 5. He lets out a surprised, aroused groan, his voice almost a full octave deeper. Cautious of the unknown (as he’s always been), Eito starts to pull inch by inch of his penis (now over 3.3 feet long) out of my pussy.

But I interject. “No, I’m okay… I’m okay… ohhh, please stay in.”

Eito looks puzzled, conflicted. The protective half of him tries to suppress the strange feeling of his muscles warbling, of me seemingly shrinking, of his giant malehood filling my longitudinal folds, sending arcs of euphoria through me with every throb, every throb quaking my body worse than the previous.

But Eito has a lustful half. This half desires to fuck me into perfect submission, to strengthen his dominance over me, to cater to my desires. Fulfilling those desires requires only fulfilling his own.

So Eito lets the tide of lust and wavelets of growth sweep over him. Slowly, he rises onto his feet, growling with every mass-adding burst of his frame, growling now over two octaves deeper than before. Each pulse of size rocks his frame, ripples the sunny wheat sheen of his pelt. His penis gradually erects, lifting me off the ground and smooshing me against his fluffy coat. Gradually, his balls refill: not by any effect of the potion, but by their own fertile accord.

Eito grows past 9 feet tall at the shoulder. His penis swells past 6 feet long, the base slipping out of my cunt. The nipples of my mammaries harden even worse, and juice squirts from my pussy, which only encourages Eito’s growth. Mind numbing bliss blankets me in gradient layers. Our sweet scents envelop me. I climax again and again.

Eito continues to grow, pacing about anxiously, thrusting his hips, as if attempting to grind his cock against anything besides the air. I become dizzy from both my lust and his thrusts, his girth becoming ridiculously tight in me. He continues to grow, finally reaching 11.25 feet tall at the shoulder. His 7.5 foot long cock almost doubles the length of my body, stretched to its limits, a sock my elephant-dwarfing mate has outgrown.

Suddenly, my world dips forward, and I see Eito’s lower jaw flexing to his deep, shaky huffs. His cock throbs as if on the cusp of a climax, and my vaginal walls swell even more; I yelp, mewling louder to a crescendo, his rug of belly hyperventilating above me, balls gurgling furiously behind me.

“Y-you sure you gonna be alright?”

“Go!”

He releases. All 1600 pounds of him reel forward, followed by a great, rumbly cheetah bark. His eyes roll and his mouth becomes the single most satisfied scowl in the world. Except for mine. My eyes roll too, as gallon after gallon of rich, sweet, slightly spicy cheetah cum fills my pussy. I produce a cute, warbling chirrup, cutting it off with whining gasps, feeling my belly distend to an engorged, ovular size beneath me. Spikes of sensation overwhelm my clitoris, and another messy discharge of fluids escapes my vagina. And I feel milk spray in weak, misting sprays from my mammaries.

I realize how far up Eito’s shaft his previous ejaculation brought me when I slip from his glans with a tingly, ticklish, slurping exit.

I flip onto my back over the ground. There’s not a crinkle in my composure as I laze, refreshed. My legs hang suspended in the air, my jaws ajar in an enduring grin. My tongue lolls out of the corner of my ebony lips.

Collapsing on top of me, my giant mate cozies me beneath his musky, protective underside. My world, for almost 42 seconds, is a heavy blanket of pelt that smells of fur and of summer dried grass. He then slightly lifts up, allowing in fresh air. I see his jaw lower, as if he’s trying to look at me. “Felicity, my sweet little kitten . . .” He chirrups at a low baritone, vibrating from deep in his torso.

Swamped by my emotions, I choke out his name, topping it with a pretty — albeit shaky — chirp.

“Let me tell you something,” he says. “This is something I like. Something I’m really, really glad I let you do to me.”

“You’ll chew over it some more, after today?”

“Felicity,” he purrs, “Keep giving me things to humor…. Feed me whatever potions you want. From now on… your dreams are my dreams.”

☾

Velvety blue and violet and maroon starlight swathes our united bodies. Clutching me against his chest, Eito lies in a scraggly pose on his side, snoring monstrously. If he didn’t tuck me safely under his foreleg, I bet his maw heavily venting open would suck me right up. Judging by how hard he’s snoring, I bet he’s having lucid dreams… but are they mine, as he claimed they now are?

My current dream involves his gut. Odd. I’ve never dreamt this dream before, but his earlier words put me into a mood for chewing on things — and I haven’t been able to help but watch his jaws work, considering their loudness… and hotness. If the inside of his jaws have such a sexy, slimy quality, then what about the inside of his belly? Already I’m calmed by its mighty, respiring exterior…. If there’s still some of the potion — the Dream Potion — left in Eito’s system…

Snrk… “Yes’m… come get some of this big dick, Felicity…”

I squirm, slightly bothered by the slur of Eito’s words. Then, I remember he’s asleep and relax. Big dick… I chuckle softly behind a forepaw. Clearly, he’s chewing on other things — not on eating —

Only now do I register it: while Eito was speaking in his sleep, he reached out with both forepaws and scratched at the air, as if he were some domestic cat lethargically fiddling with a ball to make his owner swoon. Which means… he’s no longer hanging onto me — hence my interrupted train of thought: I’m jerked off track by a gargantuan snore. Invisible fingers grab me, yanking me away from the safety of Eito’s upper body. I plop against Eito’s mouth, which now rumbles in a motionless exhale. I shiver on the ground, releasing a small chirp, then turn around to see Eito’s skull — almost as big as me — and the fur of his agape jaws slightly trembling, preparing for a second inhale. I almost shout his name. Instead, I watch his portal of teeth, mahogany pink tongue and gums and jowls yawn open; webs of saliva snap away, whirl into a maelstrom of slobbery beads and misty breath toward a throaty abyss. My ears and eyelids jolt up with a panicked comprehension, and my upper body involuntarily dives forward. As Eito’s maw stretches to a quaking obtuse angle, I fling my forepaws out to snatch a hold of his giant upper canines, stamping my hindpaws against the lower ones. Two heartbeats into the raucous snore, my muscles already seize with contortions of strain. My cum-bloated stomach now juts ahead of me, sucking my entire frame with it. An inversion of my body angle comes the instant before a yelp. The vacuum lobs me forward, as I frantically throw my forepaws at the jowls; as vertigo and humidifying breath swallow me up, and the jaws shut behind me, denying anymore starlight access.

Slimy, wet esophagus flesh catches me, pink walls oozing and pulsating and constricting over me. The circumference of the passage shrinks and shrinks, the moist walls clenching skintight over me, before releasing me to a nasally snort. I tumble a few feet(?) downward. Again, Eito’s esophagus firmly grasps me, and I hear a note of irritation fluttering faintly in his throat (it spikes up a couple of times), before finally, the throat sponges over me in a suffocating half-second hug, fluctuating to a glob of drool hurled down from the salivary glands. In its comet descent, it crashes into me, and I’m pitched down through the exit of the funnel, which greets me by expanding to a similar size as me.

My belly catches in the giant sphincter, but a gurgle of the throat and spasm of muscles sends splits the shivering hole wider, and I fly body over face into a stomach over twice my size. I expect to splash into a pool of juices the color of champagne; except, I don’t. A fleshy hammock stretches taut, like a slingshot, beneath my body upon impact, before launching me up to do a midair barrel motion; I hurtle downward then bounce over the comfortably slimy flesh a couple of times more, each time with less recoil. Outside, Eito’s belly probably bulges with an imperfect egg shape. A squirmy, fidgety egg shape.

I stretch my limbs, mewling to Eito’s breathy vibrations, his amplified heartbeat, the large protective walls lumbering in their expansions and contractions around me. My body aching and exhausted, I let myself rest now… rest… dream…

Snrrk… Eito curls in on himself, as if to guard his belly. He rumbles in content. Although Eito doesn’t know it yet, we’re dreaming the same belly dream. And we still will be when he wakes up.