Against The Clock - Part 3-3 (Patreon Commission for VDO)

TAGS: A VDO Story (TM), Pokémon, Hyper/Hyper Everything, Extreme Perfection, Tentative Shared Universe

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Poor Lee was nowhere if not completely lost. With the table having been upturned at the whole room far hotter than it had been before, he had nothing to shield him from what were clearly his hosts’ true intentions: getting a hunky professor-type like himself to “grade” them in the most scandalous way possible. There was no other way to put it; honestly, the Alakazam was just baffled he hadn’t completely collapsed from embarrassment, likely kept going only through his own latent arousal.

It started off terribly and it only got worse, since the moment the table was simultaneously crushed under the weight of two growing busts and the remains of it pushed aside by a swelling package, the three Abras all-but leapt onto him, demanding he give them his “expert opinion” on their crafted forms and what they could do to improve them. Such a barrage of unwholesomeness that the Alakazam couldn’t really listen to any one thing, being forced to just absorb the whole of it as one indistinct mass, only managing to hold onto some isolated sentences: “could my tits be bigger?”, “what about my ass?”, “I think my dick could stand to gain a couple dozen pounds, what do you think?”, among other, even more lapelle-tugging queries.

What was worse was that Lee had no way of defending himself against it, seeing as his only possible bulwark had been stripped from him. He couldn’t run away or actively fight back against the intrusion, those options were never on the table, but he always had himself: by taking refuge within his own mind, by arming himself with his certainty, he could move mountains without breaking a sweat, swim across oceans without ever feeling tired, withstand punishment without flinching… but unfortunately for him, he couldn’t pretend like he didn’t want it, and that had completely ruined any chance he had at turning inwardly for protection.

He wanted to play the role, and his body was proof positive of it. There was very little left of his outfit by the time the table was ruined, and as soon as the barrage of questions came down his way, what tattered shreds were still there were rapidly vaporised as his body bulged outwards with bulk and mass in very unequal measure. He was becoming denser, and not just in his muscles either: the room was awash with heavy sloshing coming from within his two nuts, the colossal orbs having broken containment and spilled into the outside world, pushing the three Abras out before Lee could do anything to stop it. Thankfully, this would stop… though mostly because he ran out of space and his seed could hardly slosh anymore.

For his host family, it was the best thing that could’ve happened, and they made sure to let their guest know by throwing themselves at him as eagerly as they could. Lee could hear them chittering and chatting, though not with words: being psychic types, and part of the same evolutionary line, all four of them shared a mental bond that allowed them to communicate in a manner far less limited than speech allowed. It was typically seen as intrusive, downright rude even, to invade one’s mental space without asking, however, with it being reserved only for those one truly trusted… or, in this case, for four people who were far too horny for their own good.

It was less words and more emotions, sensations transmitted at a speed far too great for simple mouths to replicate. On one hand, this allowed any two or more people communicating thusly to have a greater understanding of what was intended, but on the other, it also made for some staggeringly overwhelming experiences whenever at least one party was going through heightened emotional states. With four of them locked into that state, the psychic cacophony was such that, even if Lee wanted it to go away, he’d be unable to stop it.

Oddly enough, a good amount of it wasn’t even directed at his body. There was plenty of overt lust, that much was certain, but a significant quantity of what he was “hearing” was less about his bulging muscles, his colossus of a cock or bus-sized nuts, and more a general sense of… want. A want for knowledge, a want for wisdom, almost like they were looking at him less as a thing to be sexually lusted over, and more of a mind to be probed and asked to share its bounty. Only then did Lee realise how deeply the whole professor kink had gone, both in the three Abras and himself, for instead of him being deeply upset at Harris for setting him up like that, he instead found himself want to plumb the depths presented before him to see just how deep they went.

Wasn’t that the point of acquiring knowledge? The very idea of a professor was one that imparted what they knew upon others, and he couldn’t quite do that unless he had a fundamentally curious personality with a penchant for seeing how far he could go before reality pushed back; and with three eager volunteers there to help him along on his quest, there was very little he couldn’t do if he put his mind to it. Plus, they’d only grow more attached the further he went, and it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, right? Harris was probably doing the exact same thing?

Excepting, of course, that he absolutely wasn’t. Harris being Harris meant that the Espeon was still sitting on what were, by then, the broken remnants of what used to be a chair, staring down two Umbreon who had all but given up trying. At some point, the couple noticed what was happening and began fighting back against it, with the “negotiations”, as they were, going from spoken words to directed intent. It was no longer whether one side had the better argument, but whether they could win in an actual battle of wits and psychic ability… or, in that case, psychic power versus an innate resistance to it.

The Espeon didn’t particularly being so direct or forceful, but after what he saw hiding in the back of his hosts’ minds, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. The raw and disgusting hatred he felt towards Mina, this nonsensical idea that she was a pest that needed to be kept under control “for the good of all”, it was exactly the kind of line of thought that he had worked for so long to dispel from his fellow divinities. He wasn’t about to suffer its continued existence when he could do something about it, even if this meant psychically assaulting two people who could, theoretically, strip him of his spark of divinity and send him careening into the mortal planes permanently.

It was for Mina’s sake, and, ultimately, truly for the good of all. The last thing the universe needed were gods who were more interested in maintaining their own power over fixing the myriad issues that plagued their realm, and if this meant upturning what was seen as the “natural” order, then Harris was sure his mother would agree that some sacrifices were required. Naturally, by “sacrifices” he of course meant having to withstand a few moments of unfortunate open confrontation until the other side realised they were thoroughly outmatched and gave up trying. It wasn’t dominance so much as it was avoiding paperwork: just as long as the Umbreon couple thought themselves superior, they’d still try to impede him, and nothing would get done then.

Sure, maybe there were better avenues than trying to literally screw someone until they came around to thinking in the same way he did, but Harris was, again, Harris, and he didn’t do things by half-measures. If he was going to convince someone, he was only going to do it in a way that left a mark, something they’d never forget. Mere words were something anyone could produce; anyone could walk up to a podium and read off a bunch of letters, making a sequence of noises that other people could nod at and pretend to give the slightest damn. It took a special kind of person to pierce through this thin veil of civility and strike deep at the heart of the matter, in a way that stuck, in a way that wouldn’t soon be forgotten. That was his purpose.

Plus, he was horny, so there was that.

He chuckled to himself, trying not to break his concentration as he did so. It felt so stupid to admit, but yes, ultimately, he was just really horny and couldn’t keep it in anymore. Besides, the bureaucracy had sent him to speak with two people who were literally expected to be immune to his powers as part of the negotiation process; that they weren’t just so happened to be an unfortunate consequence of the divine hierarchy’s intense lack of understanding of what they were supposed to be ruling over, but Harris wasn’t about to stop his opponents when they were making such an enormous mistake.

Rather, he had the two Umbreon exactly where he wanted them to be. He wouldn’t force them to do anything though; in fact, he would deliberately avoid touching any part of their mind that would even remotely be linked to their decision-making process. By the end, it would merely be the understanding that he could have done it that would serve as a reminder of just who his hosts were dealing with; hopefully then they wouldn’t try anything funny… and besides, the two of them needed a reminder of their own normality.

As much as the gods were happy to pretend otherwise, they were not special. Though Harris hadn’t been alive to see it, his mother had, and she’d told him how things had been prior to the multiversal collapse: how the line between mortal and deity was blurry at best, how one could become the other and vice-versa, how willpower alone could often be enough to allow even the meekest of mortal souls to ascend to greatness, and how the gods would happily surrender their power to enjoy a simpler life.

And even though most of the divinities had since then solidified their forms, there was a good reason they still looked like the mortals they ruled over. It was inscribed into the very Laws of meta-reality, in a way that no one, not even the greatest of gods, could ever hope to transgress upon; even he, for all that he was far greater than the entire hierarchy, could only scratch at the wall of these prohibitions and mandates, knowing they were created by a creature far more powerful than even he. Hell, maybe even Mina!

So what he did was simply remind those two of who they were. Remind them that they weren’t quantitatively any different from those they were supposedly speaking for, that behind their well-trained methods and mental resistances lay minds that were, fundamentally, just the same as the mortals’ down below. It was their own fault that they’d repressed their urges so much that the first thing they did was start fawning over the enormous ass they were seeing; Harris hadn’t even unleashed his cock and balls yet!

But he would. He figured it was time to stop toeing the line and just cross right on over it, disregarding any sense of decency or concern for protocol as he mentally shut off the distortion field keeping his magnificently oversized package in one tight, tiny space. Not quite as big as Lee, but respectable, and certainly large enough that the dark-type couple in front of him, had to stare at it, unable to take their eyes away from the gargantuan pair of cumtanks and the prodigious rod set atop it.

“I didn’t expect you to be this eager,” Harris quipped, doing his best not to act like he was having the time of his life.

“Well, you make a convincing argument,” the female Umbreon replied, “whatever it was. Plus, let’s be honest, your mother didn’t send you here to talk, now did she?”

“Oh, was she the one who arranged for this?” - the host couple both nodded - “Well, that certainly explains it. Shall I?”

“Oh, by all means,” - the other dark-type chuckled back - “let’s see who here is truly in charge~”

Like mother like son, or vice-versa as the case may be, with Mewtwo not even bothering to take her clothes off when she plopped her tits down and let her hosts take care of everything for her. All she had to do was be there and be herself, and everything else sorted itself out: the pair of Blaziken who were supposed to be heading the meeting promptly succumbed, not even needing her to tell them to do so before they outright started calling her “Mom” and other, similar names. Hell, she didn’t even introduce herself: just walked right into the room and stood there, letting her breasts do the work.

Of course, just two wouldn’t do the trick. She’d wanted the cookies for her hosts, but it was clear from the way they had immediately thrown themselves onto her that she was going to have to take initiative going forward. Not that Mewtwo minded; she hadn’t picked that house at random, nor had she gone to great lengths to carefully select the various individual meetings just so she wouldn’t have an opportunity to cut loose and have some fun at the expense of those who were meant to curtail her ambitions. Well, Mina’s, Mewtwo simply assumed that she and the giantess were operating on a similar-enough wavelength.

So she allowed her breasts to fill up even more, releasing part of what little control she was still exercising in order to unleash her full productivity. Not just that, but she still had the cookies there, even if she had absolutely no idea what they’d do to her; they’d make her milkier and bigger, that much she “knew”, but the side-effects were likely to be so drastic as to make it a genuine dilemma: should she dare take them, or should she instead go with the tried-and-true approach, absent any additional boosters?

Five cookies later, and right after the milk high came down, Mewtwo found herself staring at what she presumed was her bust. It was hard to tell, exactly, given that it was a solid wall of off-white both in front and to her sides, though given its overall softness, as well as the interminable cacophony of sloshing coming from within, she had to guess her bust had just received one hell of an upgrade after she was done eating Mina’s treats. Sadly, no more remained… or, at least, none were left where she could see them. The tray was likely knocked back in the commotion that had also torn down several walls and exposed parts of the nebula on the outside, while the general structure of the house collapsed around her.

She could feel it as well: the tightness. To try and describe how much milk was inside her would be a fool’s errand, as even Mewtwo knew that it was, in many ways, infinite: not endless, but as much as would ever be needed, and seeing as the number was whatever it needed to be, trying to pin it down to one sequence of digits was pointless. Best to focus on giving the Blaziken couple exactly what they wanted: a big, bountiful mommy with a pair of swollen, milk-stuffed udders they could drink from.

At least she hoped they were drinking from it. She could feel them doing something to her nipples on the other side of those gargantuan milktanks, but given their size, getting a bead on what was happening was downright pointless. Better to focus on what she could do instead: making herself bigger, turning up her milkiness, and serving up a meal for her eager audience. That’s what they wanted, after all, it was what they craved, and Mewtwo, being such a caring goddess, would provide for her little ones; it was the least she could do, given what they would help her accomplish.

Really, what the universe needed was a mommy. What all of reality required was someone to mother it and nurture it back to full health, and while she would’ve liked to think she was up for the task, Harris’ mom had to admit that there was one far better suited. She didn’t know why that was, or how Mina had become what they had, but ultimately, this didn’t matter; part of being a good ruler was recognizing when someone could do a better job and putting them in charge of that specific task. It just so happened that Mina was better at everything, and was being severely hamstrung by their lack of divinity.

This was the goal, as far as Mewtwo was concerned: turning Mina into a goddess. Even if the Growlithe themselves might not desire it, she knew better than anyone what potential lay within them: the ability to reshape universes, plural, maybe even the capacity to take the shattered multiverse and put it back together the way it used to be. It was an opportunity that was unlikely to ever show up again, and for her fellow divinities to so eagerly throw it away because of their own petty preconceptions was nothing if not baffling for Mewtwo; she was more than happy to throw her support behind Mina, and as far as she cared, everyone else should be as well, for everyone’s sake.

Luckily for everyone, they had a mommy ready to introduce them to the wonders of self-indulgence right there, in preparation for the “big one”. Granted, there was a lot more Growlithe than Mewtwo, but Harris’ mother wasn’t one to let numbers get in the way: two Blaziken, two pairs of tits, enough milk to fill two galaxies and let them figure it out, that was the way; she could only hope her son was doing half as well.

Mina, on her end, was at the end of her rope. She really, really didn’t want to press the issue, nor did she want to intrude upon protocol, but her hosts were still inside her cleavage and weren’t showing any signs of coming out any time soon; she was convinced the point of being there was to talk, not grope, which made the whole thing extremely awkward and difficult to process for her: what was she supposed to do?

She could tell them to stand up straight and pay attention, and they likely would! Unfortunately, she had no authority to do so, and this would only end up causing more problems in the long run. On the other hand, she couldn’t just stand there and let them have their fill, because they never would: the Growlithe giantess knew better than anyone that the moment anyone walked into her, they’d just stay there until she plucked them out, god or not. Wouldn’t be the first time Harris bumped into her by genuine accident and then Lee sent her a gift basket with an apology note; unnecessary, but illustrative.

It wasn’t helped by the manservant still being there, nervously looking up at her and making Mina think all manner of thoughts she had no right to be having at such a critical juncture. They were the same she always had, but… not there. She couldn’t be thinking of “fixing” things when she was smack dab in the middle of the divine realm, that was just silly; what was she going to fix there, in a place where everything was already as perfect as it could be?

Unless, of course, she wanted to stop lying to herself.

It was a convenient cover. The gods “knew” that she couldn’t help herself and had to help others when given the slightest opportunity; they “knew” that she had an instinctual urge to improve the lot of the world around her, one that she couldn’t deny. They “knew” it because that was the only way they could understand it: only Mewtwo had truly figured out that Mina did the things she did because she wanted to do them, and chose to do so.

She could, theoretically, at any point, back off and not help people; that was technically an option she had at her disposal, albeit one she never picked. She wasn’t operating based on some physical urge she couldn’t ignore, or some sort of prime directive programmed into her by some unseen hyper-deity, no matter what Mewtwo might suggest. She was just helpful, in a way that she figured everyone ought to be; the sole difference was scale, when it came to what she could achieve, enough so that she couldn’t fault others for not doing what she did. It’d be ridiculous to expect them to.

But she wasn’t going to sit back and just let bad things happen when it was entirely within her power to resolve most issues that cropped up. Anything more structural she was happy to leave up to the divine bureaucracy, but the more she interacted with it, and the more she felt the two Arcanines in her bust clearly give themselves to her, the more Mina came to understand that maybe there was no real difference between herself, the little ones she helped along every day, and the “gods” they all looked up to for protection.

Maybe, she thought to herself as she moved further into the house, the only difference was scale. And she could work with scale.

There was something to be said about taking charge, and while Mina despised being seen as a “leader”, as opposed to just someone who wanted to help, there came a time when sacrifices had to be made. Sometimes, she felt, someone had to put their foot down and politely ask that everyone please pay attention, because more important things were at play here; not literally, since her pawbs would likely destabilise the divine dimension, but in some way.

So the Growlithe firmly, but respectfully, pulled the Arcanines from within her bust, plucking them with two fingers each, then immediately placed them on their thrones… or what she figured should be their big, fancy chairs upon which they sat their royal rumps. Honestly, the whole house was far too opulent for her taste, but was neither here nor there; now she had her hosts in front of her, and she could get started…

… but on what?

She could hardly pretend like things were normal after what just happened. If anything, her one choice there was to plop her tits down again and let the Arcanine couple finish what they started; they were already begging and whining to be let in again, barely even capable of using their words… and she was still herself, and couldn’t bear to see anyone in such distress. So she sighed, parted her bust, and a moment later she was sitting on the two thrones grumbling to herself about having to go and fix things when she just wanted to have a nice chat.

It was going to be such a headache too. So much complaining and nagging about how she was “usurping” this or “overthrowing” that; meanwhile, all Mina would be doing would be filing some paperwork in the right direction and optimising the workflow, nothing too major. Just enough to get things running nicely again. And maybe, if she had the time, she’d start looking into all those holes popping up everywhere and finagle up some way to close them all permanently. Then from there, who knew? She was vaguely aware of some stability issues with the universe, as well as whatever lay beyond, and it’d be just awful if her little ones were taken by surprise thanks to another multiversal woopsie. So maybe she’d go and fix that, after she had everything else up to it addressed. Then maybe create a little pocket world of her own; nothing too big, just enough to test out her ideas.

But that was for after she was done going through the local backlog. Heavens above, she could only hope Harris, Lee and Mewtwo were done with their meetings, because she was going to need help. Especially with how cramped the room was getting; she was lucky she could still fit wherever she wanted, or else the amount of rapidly-diminishing space around her would be slightly irritating.

Too much work just for one goddess in the making.