Turnaround - Part 4-1 (Patreon Commission for MephistonOwl)

TAGS: Gators!, Weight Gain, Hyper Weight Gain, Building Destruction, Gorging/Feeding, Blob/Obese, Godlike/Ascension, Macro/Macro Blob

---===---

About the one positive that came out of the whole thing was that Woz’s burp didn’t do much damage to his surroundings. Even half a day later, most of it had been dissipated through the air, and while it did end up displacing a significant amount of clouds (and, presumably, disrupted a great deal of the local weather system), at least the environs down below were left mostly intact. Mostly, because psyches still counted as part of said environs, and those most certainly did not come out of the belching unscathed. No one would ever know why the effect that took hold of the onlookers’ minds ever took place, for none would be left that could even question why said effect was there to begin with; others would never know, for they wouldn’t have the time to ask said question before they, too, were engulfed in the all-consuming warmth that was Woz’s embracing love. This, at least, was what Delton and his employees felt when they looked up at the mountainous Woz; they saw not an alligator, not a ball of blubber, overstuffed and overfed, turned from a simple and humble denizen of the bayou into a ravenous beast who knew only how to eat, but their new god. They saw in that conglomeration of spheres and fat rolls something aspirational, a form that they would love nothing more than to emulate to the best of their ability, a body that they wanted for themselves… but, above all else, a body that they must feed, a body that needed to be nourished, and, above all, a body that had to be made bigger. This was the prerogative, not theirs, but the one; no other goal could be tolerated while Woz yet remained away from fulfilling his destiny, and seeing as the gator could no longer feed himself, it fell to them, his loyal followers and supplicants, to stuff his face for him. This much was what Delton tried to pass on when he made the climb back up the gator’s belly, having to expend a significant amount of willpower not to succumb to the allure of simply lying down and never moving again; he pushed himself up the hill of fat and pudge, knowing that in doing so he was proving himself to be the greatest and most powerful of acolytes, that he was transcending his own bounds and becoming something more. He was there at the beginning, he was the one who threw the gates open and allowed the gator’s true self to come shining through; it was only fitting that he give himself up to become his right-hand man, his representative, His main assistant if need be, for only he, Delton, could interpret the will of the gator, the will of his god. Step by step, handful by handful, he climbed towards Woz’s head; a couple of hours after the trek began, he was about halfway there, and about four or so more later, a very exhausted middle-aged corporate manager was dragging himself across the last few inches, barely capable of breathing, unable to move at all without using his hands to support himself. It had been a voyage of self-discovery and self-improvement, mostly because exposure to Woz had begun to rub off on him; the gator truly was their god, for to merely be next to him was to share in the bounty and become more like him! When he had begun the climb, scarcely six hours prior, Delton may have been pudgier than most folk, but he was still perfectly within the realm of the average. Now, however, after he’d been climbing up his god’s form for so long, having left behind the rest of his crew?  Not only had his form been altered to better fit that of his deity’s, having turned into a near-perfect replica of an alligator just like Woz was, but his fat content had risen to high enough digits that he figured he must weigh at least one ton, if not more! How he could even drag himself was anyone’s guess, but for Delton, it was his faith; he chose to believe that his unwavering dedication to the cause had given him the strength to endure, the power to keep going even long past the point where he should’ve been pinned down by his own heft. And as he finally made the last approach, when he was close enough to his god’s head that he could speak to him, an honour bestowed on none other, he told them: he told them that all of his resources would be at their disposal, he told them that there would be nothing he wouldn’t deliver, he told them that they would want for nothing. He promised all and so much more, most of which was entirely outside of his ability to deliver… but he’d figure something out. After all, he had just made a promise to his god, so as far as Delton cared, his ass was firmly on the line if he screwed up; thus, as soon as he was done pledging himself to the eternal service of the gator, whose reaction was mostly to move his head up and down, causing his neck fat to wobble almost aggressively, the former human turned back around and began the arduous process of tumbling down the couple of miles of belly separating him from the rest of his crew. By the time he reached them, he had become something even greater than before, so much so that any thought of returning to the side of his deity without help was nothing if not a pipe dream; mere exposure, and he was already encroaching on fifty tons of pure, warm, enveloping fat, with most of his body having sunk into itself, leaving only his head and fingertips visible. He was, at last, one with his god, and it only took him about half a day! From his privileged position, possessed of a form that would leave no doubts as to whether or not he was truly blessed, Delton began issuing orders; the former goal of his company was changed, he declared, and would now be directed towards feeding the bottomless pit that was Woz’s stomach, no questions asked. Not that there were any; though his workers weren’t nearly as fat as he himself was, Delton was pleased to see that having been on the gator for so long had indeed rubbed off on them quite a bit, awakening them to the promises of what servitude would do for them. Thus he decreed, from atop his own throne, that Woz would come to engulf the land and bring heaven to all those below, if only they would serve Him for all of eternity. A pittance to pay, for perpetual paradise aboard an ever-expanding body, little more than a trifle for entrance to a divine realm that would carry them for the duration of all of existence. First things first, however: they may have the motivation, but still lacked the means. And for that, they needed to get inventive, for even their highly concentrated food paste wouldn’t do the trick. More was needed.

***

A couple of months passed, and by then, the bayou was no more. Despite the best efforts of those deluded few who still clung onto old traditions and beliefs, who saw Woz not as a saviour but as some sort of monster, there could be no stopping the inexorable advance of the gator’s immense self. It had begun, fittingly enough, by dumping all available paste stock directly into his mouth; while it did very little to Woz at that stage, it was enough to tide him over in preparation for the next phase of the plan, which was… slightly more involved to say the least. One of the main assets in the race against the gator’s hunger was that, all appearances aside, Delton was more than just a shrewd businessman-turned-high priest; he did have a doctorate in molecular engineering, and it just so happened that his doctoral thesis had been the basis for him getting a company off the ground to begin with. His original plans were far more convoluted and costly, but back then, back when he was still a blind child who didn’t understand the cosmos as he did now, he believed compromise was the best way forward: if he couldn’t get investors to agree to his idea for a “full conversion” process, then he merely needed to get them on-board with something of far more limited scope, if only to prove to them that he had what it took to carry his ideas through to the end. He had considered incurring debt, but believed it best not to do so without some form of backing, seeing as he would be fighting an uphill battle to get his product approved for distribution, much less be made into a staple. What a fool he was, to not pursue his dream to the fullest! What an idiot he turned out to be, to not step forth into the great unknown and put his genius to proper use! But no more; he had Woz now, a true god, a real god, and what was monetary debt before the very notion of divinity? He himself had been blessed by the gator, thus proving that he was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, on the right path to transcending the limiting bounds of mortality; why should he worry about money owed to a bank when, after all was said and done, banks as an institution would be relegated to the annals of ancient history? Who would collect on a debt “owed” by a god, especially when said god was more than happy to share his blessings with any who asked? Why bother preoccupying himself with having to repay interest when no such repayment would take place? A waste of his time, really; better to have his underlings contact as many moneylenders as they could and acquire as much hard capital as possible, that he may put his keen mind to use on finally designing that which he had been dreaming of for years: a matter converter. It was devilishly simple, once one abandoned preconceived notions of how the universe was “supposed” to work; if one threw away the proverbial manual and simply followed an idea right to the end, there was a certain beauty to be found in the ability to disregard Law and impose upon reality that which was most needed, rather than what just was. He figured that out during his dissertation process, and though his superiors back at the university were quick to hide his findings, lest they turn the scientific world upside down, they were certainly quicker to give him a perfect grade and beg him to help them with their own projects. But he had greater designs, ones which could not be fulfilled from within the depths of a sterile laboratory, ones that could only be truly realized out there, in the real world, with real machinery and real power and real abuse of physics. And when the first matter converter was turned on, and the first block of dirt transformed into an equal amount of mass’ worth of nutrient paste, he knew that he was right. He was vindicated, then, vindicated after years of having to swallow his pride and accept that others simply weren’t the kind of visionary that he was. Others couldn’t see the potential in a machine that could rearrange matter on a subatomic level, manipulating information such that anything could be made into an equivalent amount of something else. But now, now they would see; when the world was thrown into the grinders and turned into food for his god, when said god rolled over the landscape and consumed all that he didn’t see, everyone else would marvel at the genius of it. And when the first few pipes were run down into Woz’s moaning mouth, when the facilities built atop him were made to operate autonomously in producing endless quantities of food paste… the dream had begun. In those two months, Woz developed wonderfully, enough so that his body became far larger than even the most optimistic of projections could’ve expected. Granted, it was seen as likely that a large amount of the local region would vanish underneath the growing gator, but to go from there to having Woz cover the majority of the state was… certainly something, to say the least. It was a spot of bother at first, especially when the authorities came knocking and had to be convinced to drop their weapons and join in on the congregation; it took some effort to do so, given the natural resistance most of the unenlightened had to abandoning their worldly concerns and give themselves up to the worship. A great many words were exchanged, not all of them kind, plenty carrying threats of destruction and decay that, despite being impossible to fulfill, nonetheless were there to begin with, and thus had to be removed for the good of all. A great many words shouted and screamed before the police and governmental agencies were convinced to give up and accept that Woz wasn’t just a problem that could be “solved”, but rather an emergent deity whose principal contribution to the world was providing an “out”, a way for any who were willing to throw aside their silly notions of living and embrace a new form of existence where their worries would be made irrelevant. Not solved, of course not; there would still be issues and dilemmas outside of the gator’s heavenly form, at least while there still remained those who refused to join in on the supplication, but at no point were Delton and his associates trying to convince people that Woz was going to “fix” anything. Rather, they were giving out, freely at that, a means to escape one’s more mundane issues and live far more happily on a burgeoning god who didn’t care about such things as “rent” or “groceries” or “cost of living”, one who could provide ample nourishment to any and all who gave themselves up to him. And with this promise, it became progressively easier to bring others into the fold; as soon as it became apparent that Wozwasn’t just a flavour of the month, that the rumours coming out of the bayou weren’t at all exaggerated and there was an alligator growing to encompass a significant portion of the state, people began flocking to see the sights for themselves. Most were just curious to see what was happening, with only a minority deliberately seeking out the ascension promised; in the end, however, all who watched would be turned. It was only a matter of time before even the most anti-religious of the bunch would come to see the Truth of Woz’s existence, the Truth that he promised to any who opened their minds and welcomed him into them. How could one deny the existence of a god that was right there in front of everyone, one who very clearly existed in a physical sense, and whose blessings were visible for all to see? Momentary contact was enough to leave someone several dozen pounds fatter, and for those lucky few who succeeded in climbing atop the gator’s form, they would never come back down, for not only were their forms bloated beyond recognition, but their minds filled with endless, blissful ecstasy; why turn around and willingly re-enter a world that gave them nothing but pain and misery when they had something so much better there for the taking? Why deliberately torture themselves when they had Heaven, ready to be entered at any point that they desired? Such was the Truth that most learned, and the Truth that most gave themselves to, one after another, until the occasion of Woz’s belly plunging into the ocean was seen less as a catastrophic event fit to become known forevermore as an apocalypse and end of days… and far more of a celebration, a moment for all the exalted to know true bliss as they watched their god overflow and cover so much of the world that they could no longer be contained by mere trivialities such as borders or political lines on a map. No, theirs was a god who transcended mortality and all of its constraints, theirs was a god who was better, more perfect, theirs was a god that gave and gave and gave, and in return expected nothing more than endless gorging, a feast of cosmic proportions, and one that his supplicants were more than happy to give. Why, all they needed to do was throw just about anything into the processing centers built atop Woz’s body, and the machinery would do the rest; under the auspices and wisdom of Delton, the secrets of the universe became just another thing to be cracked open, analyzed, then reproduced at list cost to the congregation, something to be manipulated to their heart’s content. Countless tons of material were thrown into the factories every day, and countless tons were pumped down into the gaping maw of a ravenous beast whose form grew bigger and fatter by the day, unable to control himself any longer. Perhaps, at some point, Woz had begun to realize that there was no turning back, yet tried to do so anyway; perhaps there was still a small part of him, the same one that still tried to hold onto his old self, the one that refused to transform into a worse version of Antoine. Somewhere along the way, however, something snapped; be it his sanity, his hunger, a combination of the two, perhaps even that dreaded voodoo karma that he was afraid of right back at the start, he no longer cared about what happened to anyone around him. In fact, it was more than that, in that he simply couldn’t formulate any thoughts about anything that wasn’t eating, eating some more, then gorging himself on top of that for good measure. His mind no longer had room for any thoughts that were not of consumption, any thoughts that did not pertain to the action of devouring the nigh-infinite quantities of food paste being pumped into his stomach from up above. Every mouthful was a yard, every pumping a moment of ecstasy, every second that passed a second closer to a personal Heaven for Woz himself, whose mind had long-since melted away into the rest of him, becoming embodied with the largest organic body in existence. In many ways, he had become… himself, and nothing more. No wants, no needs, no desires, only a decree to feed and consume until the universe ran cold and the stars died out, giving him an even bigger banquet to delight himself upon. Nothing more, nothing less, and nothing his supplicants weren’t ready to give him as well; for just as long as there was matter to transform, there would be feedstock for the beast, there would be an endless bounty for Woz and those he protected. After all, the thousands upon thousands of souls residing on the gator’s body weren’t merely doing this for their god, but for themselves as well, as their own forms were blessed beyond reason the longer they remained upon the physical frame of their deity. Delton, of course, was the one most affected, but even those who just hopped aboard were almost immediately altered to better fit the state that most benefitted them in this new society bein constructed; the High Acolyte might be so gargantuan that he had become a city unto himself, but even the smallest of those residing on Woz were at least skyscraper-sized. It was a testament to the gluttonous god’s size that even these ones were barely noticeable when compared to his full girth, doubly so for anyone looking at a distance; the only reasonable way to gaze upon the gator and not be instantly turned into a disciple was to do so from far enough away that Woz was still off in the horizon, too far removed for his influence to psychically affect anyone. From there, though everyone knew there was an increasingly high number of people calling that colossus their home, the only one visible was Delton, perched high atop where everyone knew the gator’s head was buried underneath goodness knows how much fat. Though, this state of affairs was about to be decimated by way of Woz finally reaching the waterline, his girth being such that he had finally managed to encroach upon the ocean. It wouldn’t do much, at least not beyond offering a pitiful means of cooling his body down, but it was a momentous occasion regardless, a symbolic threshold more than any meaningful one. Already there was a crowd waiting, gathered by where the very tip of the rolling mass of fat that was the gator’s gut would be splashing down first. It was hard to describe just what it felt like to look inland and see that titanic landscape of soft pudge extending in almost every direction, a whole new world existing upon the one below; it was Woz, his domain, where his rules and none other applied. What was better, even though none of those on the ground had stepped foot upon their god’s form, having been chosen to herald that celebration precisely due to their increased mobility and ability to think regular thoughts… and they, too, were nonetheless already pushing out when it came to their guts. No longer was direct contact with Woz even needed, for now, just being near him was enough to trigger the phantom fattening reaction that turned the “true” supplicants into balls of blubber. Thus, when the last few hundred yards were finally cleared, and the immense form of the gator god at long last intruded upon its second element, the wave of cheers that erupted from the crowd were accompanied by enough jiggling fat to make the ground tremble even harder than it had been up until then, the assembled tens of thousands straining the local fault lines and creating a handful more in the process. Once done, it was time for them to reap the benefits of their devoted obedience, and without further ado, all who had patiently waited for their turn began climbing onto Woz, grabbing the nearest handful of gator fat to force themselves up onto his form. No sooner had they done this than their bodies began to warp, bloating outwards at an even faster pace than before; seconds were all that were needed for most of them to go from merely oversized to house sized, and it wouldn’t just stop there. Though their growth would slow eventually, as diminishing returns kicked in, it would never stop, giving the supplicants a constant source of pleasure and stimulation that none among them would be able to resist. And as they continued to climb further and further towards the apex, the apogee, where they would find true enlightenment, they continued to fatten, to swell, to bloat, to turn into smaller versions of their god. There were no non-gators onboard that massive one; just a touch was all that was needed to turn even the most distant of species around to yet another copy of the divine reptile. There were no skinny ones on there either, for the very concept of not being a ball of fat was tantamount to heresy as far as Delton and his cult were concerned. And though none could tell just what exactly Woz himself was thinking, it was assumed he was at least as blissful and content as all of his congregation put together.

The truth, however, was significantly more complex than this, though none knew it at the time. And as Woz continued to fatten and grow, this truth grow more complex still, bringing Woz further and further away from a state of mind that could be remotely comprehended.