Turnaround - Part 4-3 (Patreon Commission for MephistonOwl)

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

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Still, for the time being, Jupiter was good enough, and for that, they were more or less ready. As soon as the last of the blessed arrived from Central Asia and Eastern Europe and Africa, everything was ready, and the only thing left was to wait for the correct moment to have Woz take off; fortuitously, there was a perfect moment lined up for just a couple of months after the last sentient on the planet boarded the gator, after which they’d have to wait another six or so months, and even then it’d be a risky endeavour. Thus, the Cult of the Ever Gluttonous worked overtime to have everything prepared, and when the day finally arrived… there were no speeches. Delton felt this was more appropriate; with most people on their god being too busy experiencing pleasure unlike any of them imagined possible, then the best that they, the leadership, could do for the uninitiated was to let them keep on experiencing it without interruptions. Thus, the higher priests exchanged a few curt words, and soon after they issued the order for the maintenance crews to shut off the nutrient paste pumps.

In the midst of all this, Woz had ceased understanding time and the passage thereof quite a long time prior. Even the notion that he had become something like a super-Antoine had slipped from him completely, since clearly he was still being fed, which had to mean that people were fine with him being as big as he was. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was making demands of anyone, nor imposing himself upon a world that didn’t want him; they decided to worship him, and Woz had done nothing to force this. Hell, he’d gone out of his way to make it so that his weight and fat were redistributed to as many people as possible, since, after all, he’d be more than capable of filling up again within just a handful of seconds. Therefore, there was nothing left for him but to… be. To be, and to live life, and to become as a god to every living, thinking creature on the planet; to gorge, to consume, to feast, to eat, in an endless, eternal banquet that everyone else seemed more than happy to indulge him with, so who was he to deny them? It was his destiny to become the biggest and fattest gator to have ever lived, and while he was reasonably certain that he already was, he wasn’t certain, and the only way to make certain was to ensure that there was nothing left that be eaten that would let any other gator attain even a fraction of the size that he himself had. And throughout it all, a pleasure that could not be overstated, an enjoyment that bordered on the indecent, a pleasure so acute that it was almost painful at times. Mortal minds were not meant to experience these things, and for all of his cult’s posturing, Woz was still a mortal, albeit an incredibly odd example of one… which, of course, meant his brain had to be rewired in order to better deal with what he was experiencing. If mortals could not comprehend the pleasure, then he had to stop being a mortal, simple as that; hence, when the pumps were removed and funnel installed, the creature that stirred from a food coma and awoke with a grumble that shook with a force beyond ten on the Richter scale was not the Woz that had begun eating back at the bayou. It was an entity far beyond what the gator used to be, a singular being whose core motivation for existing was to consume, and whose reign would be long, productive, and bring an eternal paradise to anyone who would be so kind as to just climb on and accept his superiority and dominance. He didn’t quite care that it was precisely this sort of attitude that led to him accepting the eat-off against Antoine in the first place; after all, Antoine was right there and had given him their blessing, so clearly everything was perfectly fine. Even then, with his head at the edge of the greater cosmos beyond, he could see himself bigger, could see himself fatter, and knowing exactly what his cult’s plans were, there was only one reasonable and realistic way forward: he had to burp. Luckily, it was very easy; all it needed was for him to do… nothing, since his body had been yearning for some release for quite a while. The moment the pumps were out, his entire body began rumbling, the shockwaves crisscrossing it only magnifying one another and causing everyone atop it to have to hold onto the nearest slab of outlying pudge to keep from being rolled off towards the lower levels. Those at the bottom held on for dear life, as the power contained within the burp was such that it very nearly knocked them off of Woz at the exact moment where they couldn’t afford to have that happen. Those at the top glued themselves to Delton, who cackled maniacally as his god finally ascended to take their rightful place in the heavens. And in the middle of it all, Woz himself was mostly just happy that he finally got to get a good belch out, even if it was taking a lot more time than it usually did on account of how long it had been since his last one. There was a ball of gas inside him that wanted out, but it was so gargantuan that even with his expanded digestive system, it was still a near-sisyphean task to get it to move upwards without getting stuck; meanwhile, the rumbling and quaking only became more powerful, with his grumbling stomach becoming nigh-on deafening for every second that the burp didn’t take place. One second after another, with Woz actually closing his mouth around the funnel so tightly that he almost snapped it in half; he was concerned that the belch wouldn’t come to pass, so much so that, for the first time in over a year, he tried moving his arms, presumably in an attempt to rub his belly to get the damned ball of gas out of there. Of course, said arms were buried underneath literal miles of fat, so this accomplished very little other than get part of him to wiggle a bit more than usual. But that was just it: he didn’t have to do it. He might rumble, he might turn into a series of rippling waves of fat moving up and down a form that covered entire continents as a result of his pent-up burp, but it was for this reason that he had the entire population of the planet on top of him… and this population refused to remain still. They rolled around, they hugged him, they grew, they fattened, they jumped, they did all manner of things which, when he learned to relax and feel them properly, were everything he ever truly needed: acceptance. The love of others around him, expressed both spiritually and physically, and through it, the last step in the Big Move; all it took was him internalizing it for the last barrier to be broken down, and for the ball of gas in his stomach to begin its rapid ascent upwards towards his mouth. Clamping his teeth down on the funnel as hard as he could, Woz closed his eyes and expanded his mind, letting Delton and his higher priests, as well as the wonderful Antoine by their side, know that it was about to happen. And then… he burped. It was hard to describe how it felt, given that it was the perfect combination of release, sexual climax, and just all-around pleasant comfort that could only truly be achieved after a full meal and good lil’ burp, except scaled up several billion times and turned into a propulsion mechanism. It was almost quaint how the little ones on him thought that a funnel would hold the full force of it; it barely lasted for a couple of seconds before it was broke into pieces, the pieces then pushed outward in the flow of gas along with the first few strands of spittle, more or less fired into orbit from the first impact alone. Amazingly, despite the belch happening, the rumbling coursing through Woz’s body only became worse… mostly since he still had plenty of pent-up gas and he had the soundwaves and airborne shockwaves to contend with. His entire body turned into one colossal resonator, amplifying the strength of the vibrations to the point that, when they were transferred to the ground below him, they promptly cracked it open; fault lines were torn asunder moments after creation, the very surface of the planet being pulverized with every moment it was subjected to the totality of Woz’s body. It wouldn’t last long; the year-long destabilization caused by the gator’s burgeoning growth had turned the planet’s crust into a house of cards, ready to collapse at the slightest touch, and with this belch, the touch had finally come. Much like removing the keystone from an arch, everything came crumbling down, and rather than Woz taking off from the planet, Earth itself crumbled underneath him, with the ludicrous amount of energy unleashed by the burp causing everything down from the surface to the mantle and inner core to begin vibrating in just the right frequency to shake themselves apart. Like an overpressurized egg, the planet broke apart, the silent explosion visually overshadowed by the sight of Woz’s form, finally freed from any obstacles, unfurling “downwards”; no longer was he sitting on anything, he was floating, and for the first time in goodness knows how long, he was comfortable and capable of moving… even if not that effectively. Still, enough for him to point himself in the right direction, even if this did mean getting a lot of his eruction pointed directly at the sun; then again, all the spittle flying off into the distance would serve its purpose, softening up the local star for when he eventually made his way towards it. For the time being, he had another journey to make, one that would take him a good week or so at the speeds that he was capable of reaching; the only negative aspect was that he was in a vacuum, and as such couldn’t really hear the burp… though he could certainly feel it. He never stopped jiggling, never stopped shaking, never stopped being crisscrossed by shockwaves of increasingly greater strength, turning his entire form into one immensely pile of gelatin-like gator fat. And as he kept going, so too did the little ones above him struggle to hold on, for the power of it all was such that merely being near Woz during the belch was enough to cause them to bloat and swell far in excess to what they had already, as if the non-sound had triggered an ultimate transformation. Eventually, the first would jettison themselves, choosing to orbit the planetoid-sized gator in preparation for when he dropped the last three letters from the descriptor; soon, others would merely let go, preferring to go the length of the journey in freefall until Woz was eventually recaptured by Jupiter’s gravity well. And with a trail of drool leading from where Earth used to be, spreading itself through Mars’ orbit and the asteroid belt, a week’s worth of belching ended with Woz finally being caught up by the gas giant, just barely able to slow down fast enough to start orbiting it, and even then needing a tactical turnaround in order to decelerate properly. But when the gator open his eyes, when he, for once, caught a glimpse of existence outside of his fat cave in a surprise prepared for him by Delton and his team of engineers, and he saw the beauty of Jupiter just there, waiting to be devoured…

… well, he would’ve weeped, but he was no longer one for sentimentalism. He did lick his lips though, right before the nutrient pumps were restarted in preparation for the full syphoning of Jupiter to begin.

Plenty of seconds to go around.