yay!

Shapiro’s voice made him jump, and he had to hit his chest a few times to firmly stop coughing before responding.

“Yeah, just swallowed wrong.” His voice sounded strained to his own ears. Grace swiped his hand under his glasses, them moved his hand down to rub his nose and sniffed before looking at Shapiro and smiling. He’d been working with her and DuBois for a few months now, lecturing them on the astrophage and working with them to come up with new experiments to figure out as many things about them as possible.

He sniffed again, trying to fight the growing itch. “Is DuBois not here yet?” he asked.

Shapiro nodded. “He’s on his way. He got caught up in the lab. Actually, there was-”

She’s cut off by Grace turning away from her. Raising a finger as he desperately ducked into his elbow with a decently loud “HhHH’DJEschew! H’DJIISchew!” he sniffed again before he came back up, smiling sheepishly. “‘Scuse me.”

“Bless you!” Shapiro said, surprised.

“Bless,” another voice called from the door.

Grace barely suppressed another jump as he heard DuBois enter. He cleared his throat. “Thank you. What were you saying Shapiro?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It can wait until after this.” She started to continue talking, but paused as she really looked at him again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking- not the best,” she said honestly.

DuBois had reached the desk Grace was sitting behind by this point and was looking him over. “I agree,” he said simply.

Grace flushed. In all honesty, he felt pretty bad. When he went to bed the previous night he could already tell he was coming down with something and when he’d woken up it had not gotten better. But there was no resting for him. He’d had mountains of paperwork and new research to get through and that was before he had to prepare for this lecture. Not to mention the other list of things he needed to do after this.

It probably didn’t help that he hadn’t slept more than a few hours in the past days.

He rubbed his eyes, ran his hand under his nose again (it was getting annoying now) and nodded to the duo before him. “I’m fine. Allergies or something.” He waved it off.  He could see that Shapiro was doubting him, but she seemingly decided to let it go for now. Grace got up from behind the desk and started up the powerpoint he’d created for this meeting. “Anyway, let’s get into today’s programming.”

“Hh- HH’HDJISchew! H’DZZschEW! H-” The third sneeze left him in limbo for a solid few seconds before he ducked down again with a final “H’DZSCHEw! Ugh-” Grace cleared his throat, trying to cover up the embarrassment he felt about interrupting himself for god knows how many times in the last hour.

“Bless you,” Shapiro said.

“T-” his voice cracked on the first letter of his word and he was forced to clear his throat again. “Thank you. As I was sayihhg…” he trailed off as he could feel his breath catching and he was forced to turn away again. “H- hh- H’DJZSCHIW! Oh my god!” he groaned. “I apologise.” He grabbed one of the tissues he’d been forced to dig out of his bag earlier and ducked down to blow his nose.

“Bless you again.”

“If I may, you look- unwell, Grace.” DuBois said. “Worse than when we started today.”

When he turned back to his colleagues he found Shapiro looking at him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. “You do,” she confirmed.

He didn’t need a mirror to know they were probably right. His nose felt red and uncomfortable, and no matter how many times he’d blown it he still felt congested. His voice had also gotten worse, and he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer it would hold out before he lost it completely. “I, uh,” he sighed. “It’s just a cold,” he admitted.

DuBois raised his eyebrow, clearly doubting him. “Just?” he repeated.

Grace cleared his throat again. “Yes. Just. We might as well finish, I’m pretty close to being done with this.” He gestured at the powerpoint.

“Are you sure? We could continue this when you’re feeling better Grace,” Shapiro said.

“It’s fine,” Grace said, frustration lacing his voice. He cleared his aching throat again and pushed on with his lecture.

True to his word, he managed to finish it in about ten minutes, even holding off on sneezing until he was wrapping up. He gave his nose a frustrated swipe and turned back to DuBios and Shapiro. “Any- any questions?” He coughed lightly into his elbow.

“None for today I think,” DuBois said, sharing a look with Shapiro that Grace was too tired to interpret.

“You should rest,” Shapiro said, getting up. “That’s what we’re going to do as well.”

Grace doubted it. He shrugged. “I’ll head off in a second. I still need to wrap up some things for today.”

Shapiro raised her eyebrow. “Can’t it wait?”

He sniffed, rubbing his nose again as the itch came back with a vengeance. “N- not really.”

“If you insist,” DuBois said, and the concern in his voice made Grace feel both annoyed and a little warm.

He nodded curtly, keeping his fist pressed against his nose to stave off the inevitable. As soon as his colleagues left the room he immediately dropped himself back down in his chair and frantically reached for another tissue. “Hh- h- H’DJYZSCHIW! D’JZSCHew!! H- hDSCHHEw!! Ugh-” he blew his nose and leaned his head down onto his hands. His head felt like it was filled with lead. Still, he removed one of his hands to grab a pile of research papers he’d printed out of his bag and put them down in front of him. Then, he put his hand back and started attempting to read them. 

A hand on his bicep woke him up. He shot up with a start, gasping slightly with surprise which immediately threw him into a coughing fit. The room was dark, and through his nearly closed eyes and skewed glasses it was hard to make out who had woken him up. How long had he been asleep? When he was finally able to pull himself together he managed to make out the shape of Stratt in front of him, who was staring at him with something akin to concern in her eyes.

“Dr. Grace?” she asked.

He attempted to respond, but his voice came out a nearly inaudible croak. He coughed and tried again, but the resulting “yes?” was still hard to understand and cut out by the last letter.

“You sound bad.” Stratt stated.

“Thanks,” he croaked out.

Stratt sighed. “Go home.”

“But-” he started to protest, beginning to gesture at the pile of paper he’d moved around a bit in his sleep.

“Go home Grace. You’re of no use like this.”

His shoulders slumped. “Okay,” he muttered, beginning to gather up his stuff only to be interrupted by another pair of sneezes. “H- DSZCch! D’JZSChh!”

“Bless,” Stratt said in a tone he couldn’t interpret.

He nodded in response, finishing up gathering his things and slowly heading for the door.

“Oh, and Grace?”

He looked back to Stratt.

Spamton tore him a new one. Something akin to shredding paper, like he'd flattened Tenna and thrown him into a set of grinding machinery.

He’d actually seemed cool and collected in the hall, and Tenna thought that maybe, maybe, he wouldn’t be mad after all.

It was all just a desperate facade though, he realized. A means of getting out of there as quickly as possible, away from curious eyes. No one dared to ask questions of the guy who seemed to have it all together, moving quickly to signal he had places to be.

And now, shut into the privacy of a dressing room, Spamton pacing, ranting, raving, Tenna accepted that his partner’s calm ended where that door had slammed loudly behind them.

He didn't take it well, being laid into. His current size reflected that, practically that of a guinea pig slumped sadly on the couch. 

Spamton didn't seem to realize he was there anymore, actually. His shoes scraped out an erratic rhythm as he paced back and forth, tail feathers ruffled and sticking out at different angles. 

“What are the [100% winning odds] that every piece of mail we opened had a personal vice to [killer deals] me? Who would ship that many [up and fresh as a daisy] bouquets to a studio in [discreet packaging]? And… ugh–!” His pacing hit a stuttering halt as he glanced down at his jacket. Several stains still donned the sleeves, saturated in such a way that the source was obvious. “Look at this! [Look with your special eyes]! I hope no one saw this! [!$&@]ing disgusting.”

In a haphazard motion, he all but tore the garment off. The red blazer was held out in front of him like a piece of roadkill, Spamton wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

Without the built-in shoulder pads adorning him, his frame was far smaller, softer- but the contrast did nothing to put Tenna at ease.

His face alone could still scare anyone off. Every ounce of frustration etched there was enhanced further by the irritated patches lingering under his eyes, on his nose, along his cheeks. 

“hyHH’SHIUEHhh–!” And he still kept sneezing. Openly and down at the floor, too blinded by rage to care about courtesy. Tenna wasn't sure when he last ever saw him so affected by an allergen, if ever.

“Snff. What was in that [#*%!]ing perfume? I oughta [permanently [ban it]] from studio grounds.” His blazer dropped to the floor in a sad puddle of red. That's when he suddenly saw Tenna, and really saw him, instead of seeing through him. The tiny TV man flinched, feeling hot and nervous under his dark eyes.

“And you. What [in the name of [Heaven]] got into you?” he spat. “I decide I've [hit the limit], barely able to speak without [suffering from allergies?], and how do I find my co-host? So [hot and heavy] he can't [click here to purchase]? On [live television]? Did somethin’ get [jumbled up] in that blockhead of yours?

Tenna managed to speak, “You said you were fine. Multiple times.”

“And!? I was [right as rain] then! But then you…! Ugh, do you have any idea how [negative 999 credit] we'd be if anyone saw that? We'd be [out on the [streets]]!” Spamton wildly waved his arms. His voice broke and glitched erratically, words tangling more and more unintelligibly into ad language.

Of course Tenna had an idea. It was all he could think about the entire time. 

But it turned out fine. He really wanted to reiterate that to him- for as much as the embarrassment and distress of that moment still weighed on Tenna, it was fine. They got out of it without creating a scene. Or a big scene, anyways. 

It really was a successful segment in the end, despite all the blooper worthy moments. 

Then again, he wasn't the one who sneezed all over himself for all their viewers to see. And for however many ways they could both blame each other for that happening, there was no denying they both took the brunt of it this time.

Tenna bit his tongue, metaphorically and literally. Sometimes when Spamton got like this- completely unreasonable, that is- it really was better to let him shake it out of his system, uninterrupted. The times he did interject often turned into arguments, something Tenna did not have energy for right now.

“That was so humiliating… I mahhde, hih-! such a [$!&@]ing mess of mhih-! Hh…?” Spamton struggled to speak around the ever-persistent tingling, rearing its head for another interruption.  “hh, hiHH–! hah…” But just when it seemed like he would buckle under its command, he pinched hard at his nose. 

No, he would not be sneezing anymore, apparently.

Tenna winced. “Don't do that, Spam.”

“Dhhon’t tell me what to…hih, hhhwhat to–!” His chest spasmed wildly with another aching gasp denied any output. He crushed a fist up against his nose, rubbing fiercely at his flaring nostrils.

“You're gonna make it worse.”

“[Easy for yhou to s-say], hih-! I’m so sick of… Hhhsneeh-zing–!” His voice cracked terribly under the worsening congestion. It was almost hard to watch; Tenna felt his own nose tickle in sympathy. To still be so actively allergic despite the lack of allergens present… it would be impressive if it wasn't so concerning.

Spamton rolled his eyes, shook his head in yet another attempt to suppress the urge, but his body wasn't keen on obeying. “Hhfh, I can't… it's sohhH…! hHHH–!” 

The loud, arching gasp that tore into his lungs was trapped as he pinched his nose shut. Not with one but both hands, clamped tight to the base. The sneezes spilled out unsatisfyingly all the same, as did tears from the corner of his eyes. “hegh’ktT—! Nhh’gtT—! heh-NGxXT—!” Spamton trembled as each sneeze squelched between his fingers. They allowed barely a breath between, and yet he continued to fight. His grip grew slicker as the sneezes turned wetter, more audible, more breathless. Nose and lungs begging for surrender, over and over, to no avail. His face flushed with the exertion.

”Spam…” Tenna murmured distantly. A fresh rush of heat lent itself down his spine, etching into the ache present between his legs. 

Yes, he was still hard. Tenna shifted uncomfortably, tearing his conscience between a desire for Spamton to stop torturing himself and another, more selfish one for him to keep going…

Keep going, he did. Tenna counted at least twelve sneezes, and somewhere in the middle, Spamton doubled over, bracing one hand to his knee. “N’GTt–! hH’GHt–! eH’GXnt–!” A little louder, itchier, angrier with each sneeze. It seemed like it would never stop, that he’d turn blue and collapse before he’d allow himself to—

“hEDH’NGxtT’SHH—!” The first of the cracks in his resolve showed themselves, and they rapidly split wider. A burst of spray broke through his fingers, drenching his hand. Just rain before the imminent downpour.

Guard down, he gasped wholeheartedly for the next one, lightheaded and wheezing. “hEH’TSHHieyhh–! hiEH’SHHhiew—! Eh–! heH–! HH’SHHHIEuhh—!” The sound echoed off the walls. Wet, shiny evidence of the production further burst through his steepled hands, plainly visible for his audience of one. 

Tenna's ears rang. He bit his lip, shifted his posture. “Bless you, Spam…”

Spamton just shook his head, blinking dizziness from his eyes. “Nnhn… save your breath.” His voice was hoarse. Nonchalant too, as though he hadn't just stubbornly caused this most recent catastrophe. Tears glazed his cheeks, and his cupid’s bow was wet and shiny in the light. 

He looked utterly ruined again, and Tenna couldn't help but drink it into his memory like a fine wine.

The sound of water running filled the room as Spamton stood hunched over the sink, splashing and rubbing down his face. There was plenty of Kleenex around, but it simply wasn't enough at that point.

Perhaps the cold water managed to cool his demeanor too. Either that, or he'd sneezed his emotions back into stability. He plopped down on the couch next to Tenna with an air of apathy, with just enough energy to loosen his tie and unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt.

Nervous static sparked between Tenna’s antennae when he felt Spamton's eyes from above, gazing down on his much smaller form. 

“Weird to be sitting taller than you, Tens.”

“Mm.” 

A pause. 

In the silence, Tenna thought back on the segment and flushed with guilt, realizing he hadn't given Spamton an ounce of the praise he deserved. 

“Hey. You did good out there, ya know.” He wanted to use far bigger, better words. Fantastic, amazing, wonderful, something like that– but he couldn't summon the joy to punch them out.

Spamton shook his head. “You're just bein’ nice,” he said. 

Tenna turned his head to look at him. “No, I mean it! I don't know a lot of folks who can manage under all that uh– pressure.” His knees pressed a little tighter to his chest.

He seemed to get through to him, a ghost of a smile gracing Spamton’s features. “Well… thanks, hot shot. It was pretty neat to be in the spotlight for once.” Something warm and sunny thrummed under his words, and Tenna hoped he could fully unearth it at another, better time.

He tilted his head down to look at Tenna, sniffling. “Ya don't have to be [down in the dumps] anymore, ya know.” No response. Then, “I'm sorry for… what I said. It wasn't all your fault.”

“It's okay,” Tenna said quickly, relieved to finally feel the tension break. His size remained small and meek, but his posture relaxed, legs shifting and settling more comfortably on the couch. “I should be taking some blame though.”

Spamton continued to stare at him, frown deepening. “Tenna, are you… are you still…?”

“Ack!” Tenna scrambled to hide the erection still present between his legs. 

“Yeesh…” Spamton ran a hand over his face. “Okay, I have to ask– What has you so [XXX rated] today of all days?” 

“W-well, um…” Tenna knew exactly how to answer, but the words got caught in his throat as he realized how absurd they would sound out loud. His tail flicked nervously across the leather upholstery beneath them.

Spamton turned his body, scrutinizing him even further. “What? Are you such a freak for praise that those letters [pressed your buttons]?” There was a playful smirk in his voice, and Tenna shivered in its wake.

He drew his knees back up to his chest again, fidgeting with the fabric of his pants. “No. I mean, yes, I liked that but not like that! It’s… it's you. You're the reason.”

Spamton smirked, then frowned, again. “Well that's not a shock, but… surely you could be a little more [on the nose]? You're not one to slip up on set like that.” His eye brows pinched tighter together. “There's gotta be somethin’ more you're [withholding] from me.”

Tenna flinched at his choice of words. On the nose, huh?

The hum of the fluorescents above grew louder as the silence lingered. He really, really wished Spamton would connect the dots on his own somehow and save him the embarrassment.

Except that it was the least obvious conclusion to gather. Why would anyone assume that to be the reason? Tenna swallowed dryly. He visualized it, ripping a bandaid off. Wincing, and then relief. 

Okay. 

“It's- your, um… when you sneeze like that, it's…” he trailed off and felt the choking weight of fresh silence.

And then Spamton broke it. “Right. Uh huh. Wait.” He blinked, and then blinked again. “You're… are you serious?” Tenna could only give the tiniest nod, and his voice took a gentler tone. “I… have you always…?”

“No! No.” Tenna’s display flushed a bright, pixelated pink. “Never in my life. With anyone. It's just, you… a lot of times when we have sex you end up…” It suddenly felt like a dirty word, sneezing. “I think I just- associate the way you looked and sounded with… that.”

“Sex?”

“Yes. And I couldn't stop thinking about it when we were sitting there and then… well… you saw what happened.” Tenna frowned as though grasping for words out of thin air. “You look… ravishing when you lose control.”

In his nervous rambling, Tenna hadn't noticed how Spamton now sat, legs curled under him on the couch, body fully turned to look down at him. Shirt open, the soft micro feathers smoothly lining his chest exposed. Above that, his tenderly pink nose, and his eyes… they held Tenna with such curiosity and he couldn't bear to maintain eye contact with him. It was overwhelming to be perceived in any capacity as it was right then, especially at his current size. 

“Ravishing, huh?” Spamton echoed, amused. “Sounds like you've just got some of your [wires crossed]. Between sex and sneezing.”

Tenna briefly debated if that was actually physically possible, considering his anatomy… No, definitely not. Probably not. Most likely not.

He hoped not. How in hell would they explain that one to a mechanic?

… Tenna made a mental note to stop reading so deeply into Spamton’s phrasing.

He went on, “Okay. So you're all worked up by my sneezing. Not the weirdest thing I've ever heard of. You see all types of strange living in Cyber City. Snff.” He punctuated his words with a sharp, stuffy sniffle. And then he hitched. 

Talk about timing. Suddenly Tenna felt Spamton's hand on his shoulder, dwarfing him in such a way he’d never experienced. Big. Heavy. Warm. So lovingly intrusive of his personal space.

“Fuck, not againhh- hehH–!” He felt Spamton’s touch carefully tighten, as though to steady him. “hhH’KTSCHhih–! heHH’TSCHIieh–!” 

Tenna suppressed a shudder. It was enough before he'd admitted this strange, new development to him. Now though, with Spamton completely aware of what he was doing to him, while pressed so close? And… towering over him? Now Tenna did shudder, openly. There was very little that could make me feel more exposed at this point, next to literally stripping down naked.

And… as much as it made him want to hide, he couldn't deny the rush of excitement beaming underneath the adrenaline. It was dizzying, tearing him between an urge to grow and an urge to shrink even smaller. 

“B-bless you,” he croaked.

Spamton emerged from his sleeve with a roll of his eyes, only to look down at Tenna with interest. “Snff. You weren't kidding.” He leaned in for a closer look, noting the pink pixels creeping across the display in ever saturating color. Hand still touching Tenna's shoulder, his thumb gently rubbed at his back. “You're warm.”

“Your fault,” Tenna shot back.

Sniffling again, Spamton bit his bottom lip. He glanced at the dressing room door and then back at Tenna. “We still have some [buy one, get one free] time…” His eyes darkened. “Want some [press F1 for help] with that?” He nodded down towards Tenna’s lap.

He didn't wait for an answer, hand moving to Tenna’s leg. His thumb ghosted over the lump in his pants.

Tenna instantly whined. “Please.” 

The next thing he uttered was a noise of shock, as he was suddenly lifted. Tenna scrambled to anchor himself as the world around him moved, struggling to relax into the fingers cradling him.

“Not gonna drop you,” Spamton assured. 

It was a few more seconds of disorientated squirming before Tenna settled into his hand, head resting against the tips of his fingers. His legs spread slightly apart where his palm sloped down to his wrist, further centering his weight into Spamton’s palm. 

He looked down from his new, unusual perspective, and then back up. 

Only about a foot away, Spamton’s gaze practically consumed him, and beneath that… The irritated patches that lingered beneath his eyes and around his nostrils had faded substantially, but up this close, they were plain to see. Tenna’s internal processing quickened. 

He'd never felt so small. Literally and figuratively speaking.

“Now what should I do with you, hot shot?” The corners of Spamton’s mouth deepened as he smirked. “I could just [eat you up].” 

Tenna flushed hotter as he considered the feasibility of that threat. He could. He literally could, if he wanted to. A twist of fear and excitement wound its way deeper into his core. 

He was so caught up he didn't notice Spamton’s free hand closing in on him. His thumb started on his thigh first, rubbing over the dark leather of his pants. And then, without warning, he pressed down onto his crotch.

Tenna’s hips pushed up, back lifting into a sharp arch. One arm frantically hooked under Spamton’s pointer finger, and he clawed at the side of his hand, squirming, twisting. “Spam–tonnhh–!”

Tenna nearly cried. Only a single touch, but a touch so good it hurt. The aching, throbbing urge seated between his legs had only heightened in pressure the longer it had sat unattended. And now it was unraveling, finally unraveling. He could've come right then and there if he had any less self control. 

Spamton’s thumb lightened the pressure and began stroking him, not unlike how he would his knuckle when they held hands. Tenna’s squirming only heightened in urgency, kicking his legs, thrusting into his touch. 

“God, Tens…” Spamton let out a shaky breath of his own. He hadn't even undressed him, barely touched him, and he was all but literally melting into the palm of his hand. When he would pause, Tenna continued feverishly humping against the pad of his finger, whining. 

Whenever Tenna was this size, it was normally a result of feeling lousy, ashamed, or scared. Glooby, in Tenna’s words. Sex didn’t fit into that picture. This was a rare opportunity, Tenna permitting him to hold power over him, not just psychologically but physically too. Tenna, the tall, overbearing star, reduced to a horny little toy in his hand.

Spamton swallowed, mouth dry. “Stay [reduced for quick sale] size for me, big guy. You'll break my wrist.”

“Nnhn, I'll t-try–!” Tenna replied, voice cracking. He could do it. He'd learned to have some sense of control over his fluctuating size, on account of numerous incidents where he'd broken Spamton's bed from growing too quickly. Not to mention that he was plainly too big for him to take otherwise.

Usually though, it wasn't on this level. It was never a battle to stay this small. Usually too, he wasn't this desperately worked up- scratch that, sometimes he wasn't this desperately worked up. The pleasure was already threatening to overtake him. 

Spamton’s thumb drew a circular motion over his barely contained bulge. Tenna dug his heels into his wrist, gritted his teeth. His hips ground against the pad of his thumb, chasing the friction. Yes… yes… keep going…!

And then, right when he was falling into a feverish rhythm, he stopped. 

“Spammy…!” Tenna whined, shameless. “Why'd you stop?”

“Patience, [cathode].” There was something unreadable in his expression. His free hand darted behind his back. Spamton winced before he revealed just what he was up to: one long, pristine, white feather, plucked from his own tail. 

Tenna’s mouth wobbled around a nervous smile. “What're you… doing…?” Surely not. Surely he wasn't bold enough to–

“You're an entertainer. Give me a show.” His pupils dilated. “I want to see what this really does to you.” 

“Wait, you don't- need to do th–!” Tenna all but choked as Spamton brought the feather to his nose. 

He was frozen. “Well?” Spamton looked at him expectantly, smugly, only to falter. The feather lowered out of view. “Or… do you really not want–?”

“No! No, no, uh–” Tenna cursed the obvious enthusiasm in his voice. “G-go ahead. I'll just…” With shaking hands, he removed and tossed his gloves behind him before undoing his belt buckle. His cock sprung free as he shoved the fabric of his clothes down in one, smooth motion. It was twitching, swollen, drooling at the tip. 

Above him, Spamton had tilted his head to the side, already brushing the feather down the generous length of his nose. Tenna stared, hypnotized. Back and forth, back and forth, but not in, not yet. Just teasing him. Heat puffed from the vents at the side of his head. 

Only when Tenna gripped himself did Spamton act. The feather slipped into one nostril slowly, carefully. His gaze turned distant as he seemed to test the sensation, frowning, eyes flickering.

Tenna’s fingers trembled and pawed at the head of his cock, gathering lubrication, mesmerized by the way Spamton’s nostrils flared open around their intruder. Just one of many indications of the oncoming sneeze and all the sensations that came with that. Except now he could see it in its highest quality, up close, full screen. Consuming his attention. Anticipation tightened in his lungs. 

It was when he twirled the feather, rapidly swiping the plumes over all sides of his nasal passages that he reacted more emphatically. Eyebrows drawing together, jaw slackening, expression tensing. Spamton’s other hand trembled dangerously underneath him, but Tenna barely reacted. “hh-hehH…! nhn…” His eyes rolled back as he twirled the tool again. “ihh, it's so… tihh-tickly…!”

Tenna bit his lip and groaned. Spamton shifted his head just so that it gave him a more exposed view of his shuddering nostrils. All the microscopic details of his changing expression were overwhelmingly obvious now. Every ounce of urgency, desperation, discomfort, completely and utterly displayed and exposed. It was so much. Too much.

And God, his voice…

“I'm gonnda… sndeeze, fuck—!” Spamton sharply titled his head up, lips parting with a deep, shuddering gasp. Heat flooded Tenna’s inner mechanisms, settling under his chest with a heavy, tingling weight. He curled in on himself further, bracing to be knocked down to the couch as Spamton's chest swelled to its fullest.

“Hh’YSCHIEHhh–!” A generous cloud of spray showered the air in front of him. Tenna gasped. His dick twitched in his hand, abdomen spasming with a white hot rush of arousal.

Spamton’s hand never quite stopped prodding the feather, and he was shortly hitching up, and up, and up again until– “EH’SHiehH–!” Tears welled on his lower lash line, and a soft pink color regathered on his cheeks. 

Tenna’s monitor was pinker still, glowing a prominent fuchsia. For all the heat rapidly escaping through his vents, it was only barely enough for his body to keep up. He panted in short, labored breaths.

Spamton gasped out another labored breath of his own. “hHH–!” 

Oh, he couldn't take it. Frantically, Tenna reached for his tie, all but choking himself as his fingers struggled to loosen it. He shakily worked down over the buttons of his shirt, flinching when Spamton let out another monstrous sneeze. His dick flinched in his other hand likewise.

“Hahhhh…” Finally. He couldn't open the panel just above his abdomen fast enough. Air hit his exposed wires with a cooling relief. 

This wasn't just a means to cool him off, though. One hand still tending to his dick, the other dipped into the open cavity. His fingers lightly traced over the wires tangled within, and Tenna squirmed. It was a deep, internal sensation, almost ticklish in nature. But it blended in a perfect ecstasy with the traditional feelings seated a little lower on his body. 

Another sneeze pitched Spamton foward. “hiEHH’SCHHihh–!” It was with increasing intensity that they ripped through him, each more desperate than the last. Tenna briefly entertained whether his earlier allergic encounter had left him extra sensitive. Clinging to a memory of pollen and perfume, something as soft and small as the plumes of a feather could wreak this kind of havoc on his still inflamed nasal passages. He did nothing in the slightest to stifle them either, and they responded by growing in violence, taking the full admission of relief they deserved. They were getting wetter too, a thin sheen of moisture clinging to his septum and philtrum. 

“hiH-EHH’SHieuhh–! Fuck, sorry–” A hot, wet rush of air ran over Tenna. That sneeze was particularly sudden, and aimed a tad too close towards the hand he was cupped in. A few stray droplets caught Tenna’s display, as did a fine misting to his chest. He was unfazed, gripping only more enthusiastically at a cluster of wires. He squeezed down and tugged them, shuddering and moaning in response.  

“Bless you, Spammy…” Tenna finally managed to say. Spamton paused the feather's torturous movements in his nose. A string of snot briefly connected it to his nose when he pulled it out, which he made a face at.

Far more pleasant was his expression upon looking down at Tenna, though. “Snff. Already pawing at your wires…? You're doing so well.” Tenna’s knees weakened at his praise. He tugged again at his wires, as he did his other hand to his dick. Another rush of tingling heat filtered through him, like stars shooting across the sky.

Spamton went on, “Shame I can't play with them… or maybe…?” Tenna squeaked in surprise when Spamton brought him up closer, adjusting his hand under him again. He was knocked onto his side, abdomen settling right next to his thumb. He'd nearly readjusted and rolled onto his back, before it was made very clear that this was where Spamton wanted him. 

“S-Spam–oh, my—!” Tenna could barely speak. Spamton’s thumb pressed into the open cavity, pushing his wires inward with one, centered pressure. It was a different sensation than he was used to, and it was marvelous. Electric ecstasy sprinted into every corner of his body, ebbing in repetitive waves as Spamton gently shifted the pad of his thumb. 

“Did I hit a nerve, [cathode]?” 

Tenna nearly bit him- what a stupid question. He was certain his body language said more than enough. Yes, he was hitting a nerve. Many of them, all of them, and Tenna couldn't help but writhe and kick his legs as the feeling rushed through him over and over. The arm pinned next to his side continued its fevered stroking, heat pooling in his lower belly with a heavy weight. 

“hih…! hhH, hHH–!” If all that wasn't enough, the feather had returned to its assault. Tenna groaned out his anticipation, dizzy. There wasn't an embarrassed or ashamed nerve left in him. Everything was all pleasure, numbly tingling and firing off with a certainty this would make him cum.

Tenna twisted his head just enough to get a look, right as Spamton took a final gasp. “hehhH–!” It was a beautiful sight to be greeted with. Eyes squeezed shut, jaw slackened, reddened nostrils gaping– and the feather, lodged and quivering deep inside. On the very edge of subverting control, all while he managed to hold it over Tenna.

“heH’ght-! HEH’Nkgt-! heh, fuckhhh’GNXT–!” His head bobbed with dizzying repetition. Each sneeze opened with a loud vocalization which he swallowed and crushed into a stifled release. Again, and again, and again. The feather remained inside, continuing to poke and prod the most sensitive areas inside his nose– ultimately ensuring he would have a massive, nonstop fit.

Was he trying to kill him? Because Tenna was quite certain he might die. 

His thumb stuttered its pressure into Tenna’s open wire cavity as he lost himself in the ongoing tickle. “Hohh, God–!” A string of curse words sputtered from Tenna’s mouth. His vision flickered as the energy rushing through him increased tenfold. Too much. Too much. The hand which currently held a vice grip to the tip of Spamton’s pointer finger fervently grabbed at his antenna, pulling them down over his display. He yanked hard and bared his fangs. Something had to give.

“Hhhhcan’t- stop–! hiH’GHTt–! heHH–GSHht—!”

Spamton's voice reached a higher, desperate pitch. Tenna’s body felt hotter, tighter, too tight. Like pressure, pushing in on every inch of his body, as if his skin itself had become a prison. He couldn't contain it at this size. The growing pleasure, tension, heat. He would never last, not like this. This orgasm simply needed a bigger body to hold it.

Static broke out in glitchy display on Tenna’s monitor. “Spam, you gotta– stop, I can't–!” 

He managed to hear him, between sneezes. “Nhhg’TSHiew–! H-hhold on, hih…!” Moisture burst down onto his cupid’s bow. Tenna exclaimed surprise as he was suddenly tucked against Spamton’s chest, warm, soft. He could hear the Addison's heart beat, a rapid rhythm, before a stuttering breath drowned it out. “hh–! hehhHh–!” Tenna curled in on himself as his chest expanded against him, clutching at the soft feathers.

“heHH–EH’SHIUEHHh–!” The sound rang in Tenna’s ears. He winced despite his arousal- that one definitely tore at his throat. 

And then it was quiet.

Tenna twisted in Spamton's hand, peering through the gap between his fingers to see the aftermath. And boy, there was quite an aftermath.

Spamton’s other hand was glazed with spray. The feather lay on the leather upholstery, finally dislodged and positively drenched. Snot hung from under his nose where he had hunched forward, and Spamton hastily grabbed the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pressing it to his face. 

“Ghhh…fuck mbe…” He exhaled a muffled, congested sigh into the fabric. Tenna could only hear his own breathlessness now, drowning out even Spamton’s heartbeat against him. His sense of self was coming back to him, but only just barely.

The dark warmth melted into bright light as Spamton pulled him away from his chest. “Snff. Too extrembe?” Oh, that congestion. For all the fluid leaking out of him, he sounded more blocked than ever.

“Yes. You gotta put me down,” Tenna huffed. 

“Shambe. I’mb just getti’d used to this view.” One finger teasingly stroked down the side of Tenna’s head. “Ow!”

Tenna lingered his teeth on one finger. “Don't you dare get used to this.”

Though he glared at him, Spamton did as requested and settled him onto the seat of the couch. He stood, wiping again at his nose and face with his shirt. He was particularly hard on the nostril that had taken the brunt of the feather, knuckling it aggressively through the fabric. If he was truly as uncomfortable as he looked and sounded though, he didn't say so. 

He did surrender in retrieving a tissue, which he noisily emptied his sinuses into. The sound was atrocious and productive, but his eyes only showed relief, another fuck mbe mumbled into the fabric. After tossing it into the wastebin, his dress shirt was tossed too, down to join his equally soiled blazer on the tile floor. 

Two straps of fabric stretched across under his chest, which Spamton skillfully unclipped. The small pair of wings jutting from his shoulders gave a trembling stretch, flexing freedom of their bindings. This wasn't an uncommon garment for his species, as it was the easiest way to comfortably wear most attire without investing in wing-accommodating alterations.

Tenna eyed him hungrily from his spot on the couch. He let his vision slowly trail down, from his collar bone, to his feathered chest, to the soft curve of where his waist widened to his hips. Tenna flexed his hands, fingers alight with the urge to touch him.

That urge heightened tenfold when he saw Spamton’s hand dipping into his unbuttoned pants. His belt buckle clinked as he shifted the waistband of his briefs. 

“Mmn…” Spamton hummed a note of pleasure as his hand dipped deeper. His wings were notably stiff where they stretched from his back, yet another indication that he was thoroughly aroused. Despite the discomfort it required, he still enjoyed it? Indulging him like this? Tenna whined, hips shivering as he ruminated on where he'd rather bury his dick, if he were of proper size. 

Spamton approached the couch, bending one knee to rest it on the leather. Tenna gazed up, feeling smaller still as the Addison loomed over him. 

“Take your pants [50% off].” Tenna was already halfway there. He hastily shimmied the garments the rest of the way off, and Spamton tossed them aside. 

“Hey–!” Tenna yelped as his arms were suddenly pinned above his head. It only took one hand for Spamton to do it, the other still preoccupied between his own legs. Instinctively, Tenna struggled against him, but he was quick to give in. A fresh wave of heat puffed from his vents. 

His attention swapped between Spamton's crotch and his smug face, seemingly aware of just how hard this was to idly watch. “C’monnnn, don't leave me hanging now…” Tenna whined. His hips pushed up again, cock visibly twitching. “Please?”

“That's what I wanted to hear. Good boy,” Spamton huffed. He lowered himself even closer, changing positions so that he was kneeled before the couch. His lips hovered above Tenna’s sex, warm breath washing over his flesh and exposed wires. 

He'd grown a bit since Spamton had put him down. Not significantly, considering how effortlessly his arms were currently locked above his head. But it was enough for–

“Ohhh, Spammy!” Back arching, his hands twisted and trembled under Spamton's hold. Carefully, his mouth had enveloped him in a warm, wet seal. Spamton’s tongue dwarfed his length, yet he could vividly feel it, sweeping methodically over him and toying at his sensitive tip.

Tenna’s legs squirmed around of their own accord, nearly kicking Spamton in the jaw. His struggles became more desperate as his mouth continued to tease around him, and yet he remained utterly helpless to do little more than just take it. He could never have experienced such blatant, forced submission at his regular size. Oh, what an exhilarating feeling…!

Rhythmic waves of heat rolled through his body. Tension melted from his limbs as he allowed himself to grow another size, matching pace with his heightening pleasure. Spamton noticed, and he paused his oral endeavors. Tenna made a noise of surprise when he found his hands were freed. 

“I suppose you need those to play with your wires.” His tone of voice pushed not a suggestion, but an order. Tenna gave a wobbly smile, feasting again in Spamton’s desire to control him. However, it was not just gleeful obedience that motivated his hands back into his open wire cavity; there was a hunger still lingering within him for the orgasm he had to shy away from earlier, and this time he intended to have it.

Tingling static built and rushed out from his core, trickling down through all of his limbs. Tenna flushed and then groaned, only faintly aware as he grew bigger yet. Spamton pinned one of his legs and took him again with his mouth, hot, wet, persistent. God, his cock ached. 

Still multitasking with his own pleasure, Spamton hummed happily around him, sending tantalizing vibrations all along his sex. The heat in his lower belly tightened tighter, and then tighter still. Tenna feverishly tugged at his wires, not at all in the tidy way Spamton would. It was sloppy, distracted, but nonetheless effective. It felt good, too good.

“Hahh, Spam, you're… so good to me–!” Static broke out across his display as his voice cracked. “Careful, I… I'm close–!” Tenna could barely speak around his own panting, heavy breaths, nearly delirious as all the sensations running through him threatened to reach their peak. Hotter, harder, faster. He trembled. Everything culminated to one, high point of ecstasy.

Tenna’s hand cramped and jolted as he tugged a bundle of wires in a final, desperate pull. Spamton was forced to sit further back, still loyally stroking him even as he literally grew inside his mouth. It all hit him at once, finally, finally, and Tenna fell over the edge with a shattering impact. 

Everything was white, briefly. He wasn't sure which way was left or right, up or down. He could only shudder, back arched, hands gripping so tightly to the edge of the couch that he might tear the leather with his claws. 

Static still faintly flickered across his display as he came back to reality. Relief and euphoria washed over him in dizzying waves, and his hands balled into fists with an effort to ground himself. “Nnhn… Spammy…” Tenna slumped into the couch, head resting against the star-patterned wall at his default, 15-foot size. 

Spamton still sat on his knees in front of him, below him now rather than above. Face, neck, chest adorned with his seed too, Tenna realized with an erotic twinge. 

“You gonna [make it], big guy?” Spamton asked cheekily.

“Barely…” Tenna answered breathlessly. His monitor flickered again, much in the way someone would blink dazedly. “That was so… fuck, that was so…” There were no words for it. Tenna just laughed, gently.

Spamton finally crawled up onto the seat of the couch, soft hands feeling up his arm. “Glad I could [help you out]. Your head should be clear enough to handle the rest of today now, ndo?”

The congestion still leaking into his words didn't go unnoticed. Tenna tilted his monitor to point his nose down at him. “Is your head clear enough?” he asked between heavy breaths.

Spamton rolled his eyes. “You'd thingk it would be by ndow.”

Tenna felt a sense of self consciousness tug at his chest. Had circumstances been different, he would easily have reached his peak at the initial point he wanted to. Because of his sneezing, among other things that were simply a bonus. 

What the hell was that about, anyway? 

And why was the thought of it still so…erotic?

He wondered what Spamton would say when he learned that this might not be a one-time freak occurrence, after all. 

…Better not to entertain that. He didn't have time to spiral about it. Not right now, anyways.

Tenna briefly eyed the clock. There was plenty of time before they needed to piece themselves together, however.

Still relishing in the afterglow of his orgasm, Tenna brought a hand to Spamton’s head, big fingers running through his dark hair. It was considerably messy now, compared to how neatly he’d styled it this morning. He muttered something about taking Benadryl, and how he'd rather not.

His wings twitched. They were still quite stiff, Tenna noted as he brushed his hand down over the base of the appendages.

“You know what might help?”

“Hm?”

Tenna didn't answer, and instead pulled him close by the small of his back. Spamton nearly fell into his chest, forced to adjust one leg which left him straddling Tenna’s thigh. 

“Nothing like a good orgasm to clear your head,” he finally said. “Sinuses too.”

Spamton raised a brow at the suggestion, but he bit his lip, smiled. His hips settled down onto Tenna’s leg, and he rocked against him. 

“How convenient that I could really go for one right now,” Spamton said. His wings flexed wider for balance as he grinded against his thigh more earnestly. “This should [work smarter, not harder] just fine,” he added, breathier.

Tenna flashed a big, stupid grin. Another rush of euphoria coursed through Tenna’s body, from the very bottoms of his feet, all the way through his limbs and up to his very nose. He felt a faint tingling there before… pop!

A flower spontaneously opened at the tip of his nose. Tenna blushed. 

And Spamton… so caught up in pleasuring himself, didn't see it happen. The resulting pollen made itself known very quickly though, and he could barely flash a look of alarm before his expression collapsed.

“Wait, Tenna, you're gonnda– mahhke me–!”

Ah, shit.