On the Scene with Impractical Foods

(Contains guys with boobs, hyper BE, milking)

Guest starring Max-O-Zuma

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Sometimes a simple job is the best thing for breaking up a hard week. After covering yet another macro furry rampage at the bay and a spontaneous case of werewolves howling in a mall, reviewing a new family restaurant was a fluff article by comparison. Wendel was hardly proud he took part at ground zero of both events, even if they sold record subscriptions to his Ezine. An aspiring journalist like himself needed to anchor his sanity on something grounded to earth, something normal. In Seattle, that seemed almost impossible, the city was full of more fucked up mad scientists and witches than he could have ever imagined.

After all that, being contacted to drive out and experience the smaller Washington counties filled the brown patched bunny with such relief. This state had a crowded coast, but a gorgeously spacious landscape. He never hated a chance to drive through forested areas or open planes to enjoy the scenic mountain views. Hell, moving into one of these small communities would be nice if not for the ridiculous cost of living.

It was also a minus that these places lacked a lot of the necessities one gets accustomed to living in the big city. Not that Wendel spoke from experience that there’s never a good outlet store for when one might, say, suddenly become too big or small for the clothes they drove in with. Now and then there’d be a bike shop, or a gym, but far as he can tell only three types of business survive out in the wild towns; food, booze, and coffee.

Still, only an idiot turns down a free meal. There was certainly some merit to the family-owned cooking found so often in these smaller, rural areas. The street Wendel turned onto stretched out with jam-packed parking between crossroads. Tourists crawled in small clusters between sidewalks making driving slow to a crawl. It had its fair share of restaurants, but there was also a small town museum and antique stores. The bunny's small tail wagged slightly upon catching a three story building advertising paintball.

“Ah, there you are!” Wendel sighed, finally locating his destination. By some miracle there was also an open parking space in front of this establishment. He slid on in and killed the engine before taking a moment to smirk at the sign. “Home of the Impractical Burger, huh? I’m loving my prospects already.”

Opening the door released a blast of conditioned air, which felt nice on such a warm spring day. Wendel barely got both feet inside before the size of his server’s chest gave him pause. The brown-haired tiger stood behind a mix between a desk and host station, too occupied with scribbling notes to notice their newest customer. Their hunched forward position unwittingly allowed the basketballs in their blouse to hang forward, offering an open view of their unbuttoned blouse. Soft white breast fur all too eagerly bulged out the tiny opening, teasing the bunny with their cleavage.

“YIP!” Was not how Wendel wanted to announce his presence but the door helped move things along by slamming closed against his stupefied butt. He staggered forward, barely avoiding a fall across the tigers desk. “Uh… hi!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir! We really need a bell on that door or something,” the tiger offered a warm smile that didn’t register to the still stunned bunny. Upon getting a closer look, it was clear everything about this tiger screamed masculinity from the scruffy facial fur to the broad muscle structure. “Welcome, I’m Max. Just one dining in today?”

“Oh, yeah. I, um, about that… I….”

“What? Oh right, the boobs.” The tiger rolled his eyes with a sigh, taking the unwitting ogling with surprising stride. “I lost a bet with my roommate and now I’m working double shifts with her idea of, and I quote, making huge tips. Never try to wager your dignity with a kitsune. That’s all I can say.”

“R-right!” Wendel offered a nervous laugh while a hand nervously played with his flopped ear. There was so much truth to the busty tiger man’s words that he was debating on expressing empathy for their situation. Fortunately, the tiger was staring at them with intent silence, reminding the bunny why he was here. Grateful to change the subject, he flashed his press badge. “I’m Wendel. You called me a few days ago about doing a review, actually.”

Blue eyes scanned over the small card, quickly getting Max’s stripped tail swishing. “Oh, gosh, yes! Thank you so much for coming out. We’re all big fans of your Ezine, my roommate and her sister. In fact, they’re the ones that figured our new place was right up your ally.”

“The fresh air alone is worth the trip,” Wendel admitted as he followed Max a few yards to a booth. They promptly gave him a menu and a glass of water, though the constant bounce of the tiger's chest remained annoyingly distracting. From what his darting eyes could read, most of their fare seemed fairly common; a few soups, mostly sandwiches, and a few gourmet beef and seafood cuts for the night crowd.

“Any idea what you’d like to start?”

“Yeah, I… guh!” Wendel looked up into Max’s heavily pronounced chest and whipped his nose back down to the table, blushing. He would have almost considered the ridiculously sized mounds a prank had the waiter not mentioned a kitsune. People with magic powers have the weirdest kinks, as he knew all too well. “So.. um, I think a review is worth the star of the show. What’s the deal with these Impractical Burgers of yours?”

“Oh, those are my idea. We took a wholly vegan patty and seasoned it up on our homemade buns. I had one just a few hours ago, even. They’re becoming really popular.”

“Yeah, I’ll take one of those,” Wendel said, eyes catching something on the menu right after. “In fact, give me this deluxe buster platter, with the add-on sauce. That’s all free, right?”

“Oh? Um, I guess?” Max’s ears dropped slightly, fidgeting on his next choice of words. “I mean, that was the deal. It’s just… we don’t recommend the special sauce for someone's first burger.”

“What is it? Spicy as all hell?”

“That’s a good way to put it. It can be a bit overpowering for the unprepared.”

“Well, as long as it doesn’t turn me into a fucking dragon, I’m fine with spice. Do I look like some kind of coward?”

“A dragon?” Max parroted in a mix of shock and admiration that made Wendel flinch. Instead of questioning it, the tiger scribbled down the order with small nods as if understanding something. “I guess that makes sense, you must really get around to write such awesome articles. Just sign this, please.”

“Most of those events were not voluntary. Also, what’s this?” Wendel wrinkled his whiskers as a pink slip settled before him. It was not unusual to give a check first, but this was just agreed to be a freebie.

“It’s just a waiver for the services provided along with the terms you proposed when arranging this review. My friends wrote it up, don’t ask me to explain the legal jargon.”

“Whatever. It’s not my thing either,” Wendel said, chuckling as he signed and passed the paper back. It was just a lunch, after all. How much legal garbage goes into that?

“Awesome! Thanks again for doing this.” Max detached a copy onto the edge of Wendel’s table where it went ignored. “Anything else I can get while you wait?”

“A beer would be nice, please.”

“Sure thing! Be right back.”

Wendel could only mutter something positive, still trying not to watch the tiger bounce away. Hopefully, those enormous bazongas were a temporary part of whatever bet Max mentioned. A guy with breasts was, sadly, not the strangest thing to cross the rabbits path, but so much up close was stirring a lot of uncomfortable heat in his hips. More so when the tiger returned with an open beer bottle and a chilled glass. Maybe he’s been hanging around Desmond and his lunatic friends a bit too long.

Waiting for the meal to cook went by uneventfully. Wendel took turns sipping his beer and checking activities on his phone. Having some peace to process his thoughts eventually made the bunny aware he was not the sole patron today. A cardinal gal sat alone at a corner table reading a book while she pecked away at a large stack of french fries. Some chipmunks were having a whispered, if heated, discussion about a video game. Before long a gush of air washed through Wendel’s head making him notice Max welcoming in an otter couple.

Given the imposing presence of their host, it was surprising to catch everyone else also sported some noticeable chest bumps. They were still leagues out of the tigers bra-busting roundness, but still filled shirts and tank tops noticeably well. As Max led the otters by Wendel could not help sipping his beer as an excuse to eye their goods.

Until he noticed the significantly taller of the pair sported a mustache on their wide snout, causing Wendel to choke on the fermented fluid. Ignoring the social rudeness, he twisted to follow the pair, jaw dropped to the floor. Eyeing them from the back made it more apparent of their masculine physiology, especially when standing beside the clearly feminine curves of their partner. Glancing back to the cardinal also confirmed their general manliness behind the swell of their tits. And while he was not about to stand up and observe, it was clear by their voices that at least one of the busty chipmunks was also a dude.

“Sorry for the wait,” Max said, suddenly appearing at the table to place a plate in front of Wendel. The poor bunny shrunk back into his both wondering how long he had been staring at other people. “Need a refill on your beer?”

“Make it a double!” Wendel squeaked and then coughed the tightness out of his throat. Whatever suspicions he had slid to the back after taking stock of the beast Max had presented. The burgers patty alone looked to be an inch thick and seven wide, stacked atop even thicker slices of bread and six different veggies. Condiments oozed off the rim in a rainbow of colors, including a bright purple that the bunny assumed was their ‘special’ mix. At least it didn’t look like most fast foods blood mayo. “And this is a vegan burger!?”

“One-hundred percent!” Max bounced with his proud affirming nod. Now he was just jostling those milk bags on purpose. “Those foxy sisters can get their paws on the most amazing ingredients. I’m just glad no one has complained about all the estrogen the final product ends up having on account.”

“What’s that? Some kind of flavoring?” Wendel’s words came out with a spray of spittle and chewed food. The smell alone had the bunny’s tail wagging, already finishing up his second bite as Max looked on.

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go with that.” Max chuckled, tail giving a nervous flick. “Well, I’ll be, uh, back with your beer.”

Wendel barely noticed when his server bounced off to tend to the other guests. After getting a taste for whatever sauce this burger carried, all that mattered was stuffing it in his face. By the time Max returned with a fresh cold bottle, most of the sandwich had already vanished, along with some fries for the sake of not letting their ample portion go to waste.

“I take it everything lived up to the advertising?”

Wendel wanted to finish his burger before responding. An awkward pause that got extended when he needed to chug half the fresh bottle and unclog his esophagus. “There’s no way that thing was vegan. It tasted way too damn good.”

“Kameko’s going to love hearing that. She worries it still tastes like styrofoam ass. Anyway, want me to get a box for your fries, or maybe a dessert?”

“Why not both to go?” Wendel chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. The sauce did not burn his tongue like expected, but it seemed to make the rest of his body perspire something fierce. No need to utilize what remained of his free meal here. As Max walked off again, the bunny finished his beer in large chugs. Free hand flapped his shirt collar, trying to get some air underneath. “Ah? Oh… shit.”

It was this constant chest thumping that alerted Wendel to a soft springing against his palm. The last thing he wanted to do was look down, but as his hand came to rest between his pectorals, the sensation of his shirt shifting and pressing around his fingers drew his eyes there. Brows flew into his bangs at the sight of perky mounds warping his shirt into soft peaks. With each passing second they pushed out, squishing the hand between a pincer of mounting fat. A quick glance under the collar confirmed definitively that he was growing tits, and at an alarming rate.

The only thing more concerning was when Max returned with the takeout containers resting atop a metal trolly. Two rubber cups the size of plungers rested on side hooks with transparent tubes linking them to what must have been an internal tank.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Wendel’s squeal drew the attention of the other patrons, most of whom snickered their amusement. His chest already inflated past the D-cups range, becoming hard to keep a grip on as more flesh continued slipping between his fingers. The front of his shirt untucked to expose his stomach fur thanks to his new mammaries taking up all the room it could offer.

“Here, I’ll take care of this while you finish up.” Max cheerfully ignored the desperate panic splashed on Wendel’s face as he dumped the leftover fries into a paper bag. It and a folded paper box rested on the table’s far end, away from the bunny’s encroaching boobs. “I forgot to ask your dessert preference so got you a slice of cheesecake and double-decker chocolate. Don’t worry, the milking is complimentary too.”

“Milking!? Wha… oh.” Wendel hardly cared about the sweet offerings, eyes glued to the hard bounces of Max’s enormous globes. They hit him with a very ‘duh’ kind of revelation. “Are you telling me your burgers give people boobs!?”

Another chorus of laughter filled the restaurant, while Max took a more contrasting professional smile. “Yeah, well, the recipe is more complicated, but that about sums it up. We don’t call this shit Impractical for nothing.” Max gave his tits a smack for emphasis, creating a hollow drum-like sound. “It took me weeks of practice to work with this rack, but I only did it for the free burgers too.”

“Nnngggh!” Wendel fell back against the booth seat, letting out rapid huffs. He would love to question the tigers motives for such line of work, except his own shirt strained like it had two cantaloupes stuffed underneath. Soft furry boobs bulged both out the collar and around the hem, testing the cottons limits.

“You might want to take your shirt off,” Max said while detaching the two cups from his machine. “It might hurt your ribcage at this rate, and I’d like to get started before there’s a mess.”

“M-mess? Are you crazy… I…. ughhh!” Wendel could hardly argue after lengthy ears picked up an audible sloshing noise deep within his squishy, furred chest. He pulled his top off just in time, bringing hands back under to cup the basket balls sagging off his miniscule man pecs.

Amusing as Max found customers stupefied reactions to his roommates cooking, he still had a job to do. Rubber cups flopped over Wendel’s engorged nipples, firmly gripping around their stretched aureolas with the attached tubes providing suction pressure.

“H-hey! Stop tha-aaahh!” Wendel seethed through large front teeth gripping the table to hard knuckle fur turned white. While his ripening mammaries stopped swelling at a size comparable to his waiter, their insides continued filling up, straining the already taut skin. The increasing weight brought the bunny hunching forward so the firm mounds could rest atop the table’s plastic cover for support. “Wha-aht’s happening?”

“That’s what happens when you get Kameko’s special sauce, buddy,” Max explained. The tiger was busy flipping some switches that brought a sputtering engine to life inside the trolly. “Though I got to say, you will probably break our current milking record with jugs like that.”

“You son of a… nnnggghhh!” Within seconds of the machine starting, Wendel rocked back against his seat, unable to help the rising bulge in his pants. The tubes connecting to his boob cups alternated between strong pressurized pulses that harshly tugged on the nipples underneath, diverting their contents into a funnel towards a single point.

“Now that’s not very nice.” Max’s tail wagged in clear delight of the bunny’s discomforting arousal. “Want a hand job to take some pressure off? That does require a fee up front, though.”

“N-no! I’m f-f-fuuuuuuuck me!” Wendel’s finger nails tore through the cheap table cloth as they balled into fists that slammed into the sides of his jiggling tits. Their strain had reached a head that caused something to pop underneath the rubber cups. It did not take a genius to figure out what when large amounts of white liquid began sliding through the clear tubes with each of their following contractions.

“I’m getting mixed signals, so I’ll just let you enjoy the ride. Give me a holler when you’re done being milked.”

“Aah! Aah! Gah!”

About the only thing Wendel was grateful for was that Max left just in time to miss the bunny creaming his pants in orgasmic bliss. He let himself fall forward, chin squished into his own hyper cleavage with heaving breaths. The rhythmic tugs of automated milking continued to send erotic shivers down through his spine. It was hard to tell if having such a display on his table to distract from the wet stain on his groin was worth it, but at least the internal pressure was rapidly going down.

The real problem now was how to rate this place at seven out of ten without describing this part in detail.