The First Of Many - Part 2 (Commission for Ehanu)

TAGS: Transformation/TF, Growth, Hyper/Hyper Growth, Belly/Weight Gain

---===---

The world was his oyster now, and as one, it was his job to slurp it up and devour it, to savour its plentiful tastes and aromas and make them a part of himself. Granted though, he was slightly busy trying to stuff one of his own tits into his mouth in order to guzzle down the torrent of milk pouring out from the chosen teat, but he was sure that, once he was done, he’d find some room for everything else. He slipped, he slid, but he still tried regardless, for ultimately he’d get there… and when he did, the true feast could begin.

Everyone else around him, in sharp contrast, was suddenly blessed by the appearance of some sort of hyper-sized draconic creature of giant proportions who seemed more intent on suckling from themselves than they were in preventing unnecessary destruction. No one had known about Mit’s transformation; he’d used a couple of sick days to keep himself out of the office until he could come up with an adequate excuse (if one even existed at all), and with enough groceries to last him for a week before he had to order any more in, he didn’t need to risk a delivery person seeing him at the door. Plus, human-to-dragon transformations were the realm of pure fantasy: they weren’t real, they weren’t possible, and surely if anyone saw one it had to be the result of special effects budgets running rampant.

Thus, no one quite knew what to make of one of the apartment blocks on that street suddenly bursting outwards to reveal a colossus of a… dragon? Hard to tell what Mitsuri even was anymore, given most of his body had become a conglomeration of spheres and curves that made little sense to anyone but Mitsuri himself; for he knew exactly where everything was (how could he not, when he felt every inch of his body flaring out in pleasure?), to the point where if he wanted to, he could move each individual body part just as well as he would’ve been able to beforehand. He just didn’t want to, because why should he? He was just fine the way he was, slowly bloating in every direction, slowly overtaking the entirety of his hometown, still becoming bigger, fatter, fuller, still becoming better.

It was hard not to think of it in those terms, especially when the power of the magic within him began manifesting in more direct ways: when he looked towards a large building and suddenly found it being disassembled and turned into raw mass for him to absorb, how could Mitsuri not think of himself as some kind of deity in the making? When he desired to become larger and just did, when he thought of his tits bloating with milk and was beset by the sound of ocean currents coming from his bust, it was exceedingly difficult not to start earnestly believing he was blessed to become a god of magic, the first among however many would appear after him.

But he no longer cared about the ones that came after. They would surely have their own ascensions, their own “episodes” as it were, but for the time being, there was only him, only his growth spurt, only himself reaching for the heavens as his heavenly body consumed everything in its path. Everything though, not everyone; though he was as of yet still unaware of his potential, Mit wasn’t one to gobble people down… just everything else.

Buildings, the roads, the landscape, whatever food happened to be in range as well, if it could be broken down into mass for him to use, it would be, further fueling an ascension that had left him wondering whether or not he should be going further still. Not in what he was doing, of course, but in presentation, for how could he truly be a god if he didn’t have the flair needed to back that up? Anyone could be a glutton, but it took a special kind of someone to be such a thing while still carrying the dignity and poise of a true divinity. Granted, getting up on his own two feet seemed like such a chore that most of him refused to even consider the possibility, but the dragon’s mind was not a monolith, nor was he yet bereft of any tricks up his sleeve.

The same core that had once resisted the change had itself been warped into something else entirely: from the voice of reason to the voice of encouragement, once again fighting against the vast majority of the dragon’s mind, but now from a different direction entirely. If most of Mitsuri wanted to sit there and grow larger, then this little nugget of himself insisted that he get up and start walking, if for no reason other than to show off that he could do such a thing. By moving, by dragging his immense self across the land and giving himself to any who might come close, then he would be fulfilling his destiny, ascending to the ranks of the deities up above, yet so much more real than any of them.

A smile spread across Mitsuri’s lips, one that brought about a long, drawn-out moan rumbling deep from within his throat. It caused his entire body to vibrate as well, almost as if it had hit that one specific frequency that resonated with his whole form; it was pleasant in the same way a warm bath was, an interesting change of pace from the rampant, libido-abusing arousal he’d been submerged in for a while by then. In fact, it was just what he needed to recentre himself, to focus back on what was important: anchoring his claws on the ground below and heaving himself up, that all may see his glorious self.

It wasn’t easy, given how literally massive he was; it had stopped being about weight and turned into density, where his body was so packed with soft pudge that it had stopped being all that soft at all, turning into a series of rolls of flab that stubbornly resisted having anything sink into them beyond Mitsuri’s own hands. Only he had the power to push those graspers down in any reasonable measure, with everything else either bouncing off entirely, getting stuck on him while moaning themselves, or being turned into additional mass for his ever-increasing growth spurt. And as soon as he started walking towards the centre of town, dragging most of everything around him in his wake, this would only be made so much worse… or better, depending on how one saw it.

For the little ones around him, it was certainly a catastrophe, though one they were having a hard time deciding whether or not they enjoyed. They knew, intellectually, that having their hometown flattened by a pair of tits the size of a skyscraper each and an ass just as wide, not to mention a belly of calamitous proportions, was “bad”, in the sense that it probably wasn’t something they’d want to happen; at the same time though, they were looking up at a dragon carrying assets of such an immense size that even the most uninterested of them felt a warmth around their lower abdomen that couldn’t just be explained by them being scared shitless at the encroaching avalanche.

Some had already taken the plunge as well: might as well make good use of what was happening rather than sit around waiting for what was obviously a god to provide a blessing unprompted. Better to throw themselves at their magnificent frame, finding some spot on their immense self that they could hold onto and feel the warmth, the softness, the inviting calm that was exuded from every pore. Some would fall asleep almost instantly, while others were instead struck into a sort of pseudo-fugue state where their minds practically shut down, leaving only the most basic of awareness left.

Meanwhile, Mitsuri himself was entirely unaware of any of this taking place, on account of their body having engorged to such a degree that it felt less like he was moving from point A to point B and more like he was dragging his fat behind him, with his ambulatory motion somehow being separate from the whole process. He was too big, so big that he lagged behind his own intentions, and had to be forced to move by purposefully pulling on the copious amounts of fat deposited on his bones (and itself in some spots); as a result, he didn’t so much crush his surroundings as he did simply carry them with him as he went along, leaving little but a desolate, flattened landscape where nothing remained but the pale grey of concrete, every structure ripped up from its foundations and added onto his mass… with their inhabitants safely aboard the dragon’s curves, of course.

It was enough that he stopped being able to control himself anymore. His feet and legs were still moving him forward, but that was hardly because he wanted them to as much as it was raw muscle memory; similarly, his hands flew from one spot of his body to another, no longer able to remain in just one tiny patch of him for more than a second or two before needing to stimulate another one. It was during one of these wild excursions that, for whatever reason, both of his hands ended up on his face; however, rather than merely dragging his fingers over his visage and being done with it, Mitsuri found that there was something in the way: his lips.

He’d kept his eyes closed for long enough that he’d failed to notice his pillowy smoochers plumping up over time, though when he opened them back up, there wasn’t much he could do about it, not when both the upper and lower one had blown up so much that it was a wonder he could even keep his head facing straight ahead. They were still growing as well; with the tips of his fingers pressing lightly on his lips, Mitsuri got to feel as they slowly made their way outwards, covering more and more of his face and field of view, until he could barely see anything other than whatever was directly above him.

And the sensitivity as well; he couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he tried kissing anything or anyone, because the moment he pressed those smoochers against literally anything else at all, he was sure to lose himself completely to the wave of pleasure that ensued. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing and prodding, from sinking his hands into them, feeling the drool trickle from within, the suckling noises, the popping, the shlurping, everything that came from him trying to moan and finding that his lips were too thick for him to do so properly.

All the while, the rest of him kept going, ever larger, ever more powerful. If ever there was a chance that he might get stuck somewhere, that chance would be annihilated but a moment later; sure, he might be stopped momentarily by two buildings placed especially close to one another, but all it took was an extra second or so before his hips widened enough for him to topple them over, or for his thighs to become so fat they outright incorporated all that obstructive mass into him. Simultaneously, his tits made sure that very few things were left standing when he did move forward onto them, the tidal flood of milk being powerful enough to wash away most of anything that wasn’t extra-bolted to the ground, and even plenty of stuff that was.

Really, all of him had become too big for that world, though Mitsuri himself hadn’t quite reached that point yet. His mind wasn’t ready for the realisation that he was going to have to leave, not ready to understand that the power he wielded was too great for any one person, and that he had to vacate his homeworld if he wanted to keep it from being torn apart. Slowly, he’d get there; it’d be a struggle, especially since it just felt so good to trample around the little things around him, but one connection at a time, his brain would produce that thought… eventually.

By the time it did, the curvature of the horizon had begun making itself obvious. It was like a dream: Mitsuri would close his eyes and allow himself to fall into a state where all he could feel was his own body and the pleasure overdrive that came with it, then he’d open them again and find that he was significantly bigger than before. Not that his lips allowed him to get a good look anyway, but his awareness of his own form was such that he didn’t need eyes; it was more so the gesture than anything else, the notion of closing himself off from the outside world and focusing exclusively on himself, damn whatever was happening to everything else around him.

No death, of course, but plentiful destruction: no car, nor building, nor town, nor city, could ever hope to stand before him and survive. It was just the way of things; there was no malice there, he was just too big to coexist with most other things built by mortalkind, doubly so now that he himself was no longer part of the latter category. He was, ultimately, a god now, a god empowered by magic to such an extent that he really didn’t belong on the planet anymore; forget safety, there just wasn’t enough room!

Difficult to process as a concept perhaps, but he just wasn’t meant to be stuck on a little tiny ball for longer than strictly necessary; he could rely entirely on his magical prowess to keep him alive in the great void beyond, that much he was certain of. And all he had to do was heave himself into orbit… which, honestly, wasn’t nearly as hard as it could be, all things considered. He was already gargantuan to the point where his head was close to escaping the planet anyway, and with the amount of power contained within him, all it took was him pushing some of it downwards for the rest of his body to react: with a lift power so great that it very nearly left a canyon where he once stood, the colossal dragon found himself being flung towards the darkness above him!

The clouds flew by, the soft and pale blue replaced by progressively deeper hues as the atmosphere thinned and gave way to the vacuum of space. The ascent was something beyond Mitsuri’s ability to describe: there he was, transcending the very bounds of the planet he was born on, his body something of legend, pillowy and round and fat and plump and ready for more. What he had wasn’t enough, he needed to become something better, something so much bigger, and the only way he could do it was if he threw himself fully into his new role as a god.

A god, for that’s exactly what he was. Once in the safety and vastness of the cosmos, what was there to stop him from just… filling it? He had more than enough power to do it; it was a simple matter of will. Hell, the sheer level of magic filling him was such that, the more he thought about it, the more Mitsuri came to understand that he could share it with everyone else on the planet below him and still have more than enough to spare. In fact, he would do just that: he would take a fraction of his magical might and distribute it amongst the tiny ones down on Earth, purely to make it as obvious as possible that he was miles and leagues ahead of them that he could afford to do such a thing.

Yet, when he tried to do so, he found that he couldn’t. It was such a strange thing, to be unable to do something, when so far he’d been more than capable of snapping his fingers and more or less will things into being, sometimes through pure arousal alone. For him to slam into a wall like that was… distressing. He was still growing, he had that much, but no matter how often he tried to force the issue and expel some of his magic into the increasingly-tiny planet in front of him, the more he came to understand that it was well and truly “stuck” inside of him; only then did he formulate the thought that maybe that had been the issue from the very start, that maybe he’d been meant to share all that magic he so ravenously took for himself, and now, after being so greedy with it, just couldn’t anymore.

Well, if that was the case, then more power to him! If the universe wasn’t going to let him transfer even the most insignificant fraction of his godlike spark to the little ones below, who was he to bang at the door and demand to speak with the manager? He was the manager now! He was the one who decided what the rules were, how the cosmos operated, what made everything tick! And now, now that he had outgrown his homeworld and transferred himself over to the greater universe beyond, there was nothing that could stop him from reaching his full potential, nothing to stand in the way of a revitalised, energised Mitsuri, growing and fattening and bloating and swelling for all eternity, until the mythical day where he might feel satisfied with it all.

Not that such a day would ever come, but one could always dream of it. One could dream of a time when the dragon god would look at himself and declare himself to be “done”, no matter how ridiculous that sounded. But until such a day came?

He had more growing to do.