A Miscalculation - Part 5 (Commission for @ThickGreenFluff)

TAGS: Alien Abduction, Growth, Destruction, Growthlust, Ascension/Godlike

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Well, they could turn to worship. That was always an option… and, oddly enough, one that occurred to a startling number of people at the same time. Presumably, the sight of a dragon-fox big enough to step on a mega-city and be capable of destroying a large part of it was so out of the ordinary that it short-circuited the brains of most people being made to witness it; such was its majesty, that the sequence of events unfolding could only truly be perceived in a limited number of ways, as every observer’s mind had to whatever narrative tropes it understood reality as in order to create a brand new narrative. Archetypes and plot structures, little boxes in which things could be shoved into in order to force them to make sense, limited by nature thanks to prevalent cultural norms; thus, while the sheer number of possibilities was close to endless, it wasn’t altogether surprising when the vast majority of the alien lizards defaulted to thinking of that giant as a “god”, a divinity who deserved worship, if not for its merciful generosity, then to avoid its wrath. It was a common element within their myths and religious scripture, even if adherence to the latter had been effectively erased by that point in their civilization’s history; it was preserved as historical record, and that was all that mattered, as it still managed to burn itself into the collective subconscious of all those living on that planet, and potentially beyond depending on how colony-happy the reptilians were. As such, on looking up, at the absolutely gargantuan fox-dragon, the green titan whose body grew the longer they stared at them, at the impossibly huge thing that very few knew the origin of, the near totality of the lizard population resorted to the base assumption that, surely, what the giant wanted was worship, that it may be assuaged and return to a state of calm and slumber; half-right, as far as assumptions went, seeing as Thomas was in no way tired and had no inclination to dozing off any time soon. Still, looking down and seeing large masses of individuals congregating into prayer groups, haphazard and mostly incapable of coming up with a proper hymn to save their lives, the drox couldn’t help but feel… accomplished. What felt like moments ago, he’d been a captive inside a nano-metallic box, a prisoner inside a cell designed to hold him in and refuse to let go; all of his agency had been taken away, and if his captors had had their way, he would’ve been halfway to some rich bastard’s private collection, to be appreciated for his unique fur colour. Now though, and entirely through his actions, he had become supreme, a creature of power and glory whose mere presence was enough to warp and distort the minds of onlookers, their very perception in fact, until they could see him as nothing short of perfection itself. His true body was, of course, still the same as it always had been, albeit far, far bigger in scale, but for those down below, for the lucky ones who chose to throw themselves into the worship in earnest, their new god appeared slightly different for each person that threw their arms up in adoration. Some would still see a dragon-fox, but one whose fur was of a different colour, or had a different vibrancy to it; still others saw an entirely different species altogether, while a smaller group began to believe that they were looking at pure energy that just happened to take a roughly identifiable shape. The longer they prayed, the more they begged for their new god to show them mercy, the more these distortions intensified, until the tiny lizards, rather than seeing the underside of a paw just moments before it was gently pressed against the top of their mega-city, instead saw a billion different things, each reacting in their own, unique way. As for Thomas, he’d grown big enough that he could just stamp that city out of existence if he wanted to; the bottom of his paw was large enough to cover the entirety of it, and while it’d certainly be uncomfortable having to deal with all the arcology spires, he was certain it wouldn’t be too bad past the initial shock. But once more, there was that voice in his head reminding him that if he did such a thing, then that would be it: if he took his loyal followers and rewarded them with unceremonious, ignoble death, then what sort of message did that send to everyone else? The drox would soon find himself staring down a whole planet’s worth of souls who would refuse to turn to him, not when they knew that the end result would be the same as defying him; and while doing so was pointless, he knew for a fact that the very nature of mortals meant that they would try anyway, because why not? Thus, the best outcome for everyone involved came if he just curtailed his more destructive impulses and tried to resolve things in a more peaceful manner. Notably, this didn’t necessarily mean a harmless one, not when he could do so many things that didn’t technically injure anyone but ended up causing destruction on a scale incomprehensible to most of the city-dwellers down below. He could, for instance, very slowly push his foot down onto the tallest arcologies near what he assumed was the equivalent of a downtown area; he would’ve thrown in a few choice words about them evacuating and learning how to live with nothing but their new god for shelter, but sadly he was reasonably certain that no one would even begin to understand him. Plus, the military forces still buzzing around him, the ones most likely to have translator hardware on them, were probably not in any rush to let the populace know what sort of commands were being given, lest their civilization collapse under the whims of some random genetic anomaly. How little did they know that such a fate was sealed already; they might still have a world, but it certainly wasn’t because it was sturdy or durable; as soon as Thomas got off his ass and began wielding his power properly, there wouldn’t be a civilization of lizards left once he was done and dusted, nothing more than potentially billions of souls whose sole purpose in life was to worship him, to adore him, to sing praises to him to the end of days. Most of them wouldn’t even be on him either; Thomas assumed that he’d need to allow a small fraction of the reptilians onto his body, as some form of “chosen” for everyone to aspire to, a select number of people whose “ascension” was there less for their worthiness and more to keep everyone else in line with the promise that they, too, might one day be given such a blessing. The vast majority of the population, however? Those would have to make do with whatever they had on hand, especially whenever the fox-dragon decided to move from one place to another: planes, land craft, whatever they could scrounge up and build from scrap, fueled by whatever could be burned after industries collapsed planet-wide and whatever interstellar operations the lizards manned were slowly drained of workers as they, too, came back home to worship their new god. For most, this meant taking a ride on the giant’s paws, at which point they would have effectively surrendered the last of their independence, as contact with the titan was sure to completely and utterly break their minds, leaving nothing but husks behind who would do whatever it took to satisfy their deity… at least, in Thomas’ mind. He was several steps ahead in this non-existent plan of his, even if in reality all he had in his head was an incessant need to stamp around and impose himself on his surroundings. Really, at his size, could anyone blame him? It wasn’t as if anyone could actually stop him, or even so much as scratch him; the military craft that actively tried nuking him multiple times by that point had certainly learnt that lesson the hard way, as did the satellite weapons platform whose laser beam did nothing more than provide Thomas with a cool new, vaguely electric-looking fur tattoo. He was unstoppable, in the most literal sense of the word, for it mattered not what the lizards threw at him; he would just keep going. As such, he took his time with gathering the inhabitants of the mega-city into one big group; there was a lot of fun to be had in teasing and prodding them, in moving the goalposts by deliberately acting in self-contradictory ways, at least as far as the language barrier allowed. It was a complicated dance, seeing as his new worshippers knew that he wasn’t a native of that planet, and he knew that they knew, creating a double-blind scenario where he was more or less roleplaying a roleplaying character without knowing either of their personalities. In less poetic terms, Thomas was effectively making shit up as he went along, as he had absolutely no idea what the lizards would expect from a god, much less an alien one; then again, they seemed to be scrambling as they struggled to keep up with the drox’s increasingly wide and far-reaching motions, so as far as the titan cared, whatever he was doing was working. All that was left was herding the countless little burning souls into the wasteland outside the arcologies, to put them all in one large, densely-packed, oh-so-easily-crushed group. The circle (or blob, really) was so tiny as to be comical; from a city big enough that it took Thomas some time to outgrow, to a pathetic, borderline insignificant splatter of colour that was barely distinguishable from the ground around it, a population of a continent condensed into a single crowd that, were Thomas to be much smaller, he surely would’ve found to be impressively-sized. From his vantage point up above, however? From where he saw the world curve and the air around him was so rarefied that he had ceased breathing altogether? They were nothing. He could easily take care of them all just by stepping on them with a single paw, and he probably wouldn’t even think about it twice; just as much, he could breathe on them hard enough to send them flying and not even care… but that wouldn’t do. It was no longer his conscience telling him not to seriously injure and-or potentially kill off all of his worshippers, but his very mind, his purpose, his will; he had become so magnificent that, at the end of the day, doing something as crass and ruthless as that would be… unbecoming of him. He was a god, and gods were meant to act in certain ways; even if he could afford to be capricious and guided entirely by whatever random whim he happened to have at the time, he certainly couldn’t afford to kill off large chunks of his worshipper base just because he could. In fact, to do so would be downright wasteful, even if he was quickly outgrowing the planet and thus had no need for the energy bars to give him an extra boost. He was a god, and gods deserved worship; this would be the sole nourishment to carry him further, the only nutrient he would ever need going further. Hell, it was probably why he was still growing, far past the point where even the ludicrous quantities of food he consumed back at the destroyed prison should have taken him. Surely, it was the acceptance of his new supplicants that had turned him into what he was, it was him being seen as a god that turned him into one, thus making him even more worthy of the title as far as he was concerned… and giving him a much-welcome confidence boost, if Thomas being even more cocksure was remotely conceivable. A grin spread across his lips, rapidly followed by him licking his lips: it was time for that world to bask in his glory.

At that point, Thomas’ size had become something unwieldy, to the point where even the drox was having trouble keeping himself on the planet now that his form had begun to compete with it for gravitational attraction. He wasn’t yet so big that he could take the place of whatever moon it might have beyond the murky, smoggy skies, but he was quickly getting there, of that there was no doubt; and, given the rate at which his body burgeoned with size, there’d be little time between him reaching that goal and surpassing it, eventually becoming so big that, rather than being a moon, the planet itself would orbit around him. He’d be able to use it as a portable seat, capable of plucking it from where it rotated around the local star and bringing it with him as evidence of his power… but, before that could happen, he needed to be in space. He hadn’t been able to see the stars ever since escaping from the prison; at least, he assumed it was nighttime given all the gloom, but it could very well be that the clouds above his head were so thick that they blocked off any natural sunlight, turning the planet into a perpetual ocean of darkness. Thankfully, he was about to find out, as his head rapidly approached the lower layers of the thick coating above it; soon enough, he would emerge into the outside, into whatever existed beyond it. He could see it already: himself, big enough to overshadow an entire planet, cackling maniacally as he lorded over those who would once keep him penned as some form of circus attraction. He would be glorious, divine, unstoppable… if not for what he saw after reaching the very top. The layer of clouds was about as thick as Thomas imagined it would be, foul-smelling and acrid, enough to nearly singe his fur off of him through sheer acidity; whatever that civilization had done, they had transformed their (presumably) once-lush planet into an industrial hellhole, locked forever underneath a blackened sky of their own creation. Maybe this was why they abducted other sentients: they needed some kind of distraction from their self-inflicted misery, and it just so happened that it eventually led to them running out of any saner options. Regardless, what Thomas had expected to see above the cloud layer was either a bright blue sky or an endless ocean of stars above a long, unbroken sea of clouds down below, one that would dip below some distant horizon, and while he certainly got the former, he did not find the latter. Above him, more darkness, but a warmer one: twinkling constellations and galactic formations, unmarred by the light pollution of the civilization below the clouds, promising far greener pastures once Thomas reached a big enough size to seize the cosmos for himself. Underneath him, however, were no curves; rather, he was staring at what looked to be a flat disk.

He’d never expected to see those conspiracy theories vindicated, much less on an alien planet, but there was no mistaking it; at his size, he should be capable of seeing an horizon, hell, he should already be big enough to perceive the curvature of the planet as far as he could tell. Instead, he saw the thick covering of smog clouds extend far in every direction, until eventually it smashed into a distant barrier, one that surrounded him wherever he looked: vast, metallic in nature, it served as a sort of “wall”, meant to contain the lizards’ world and everything on it, presumably as a means of controlling atmospheric patterns and ensuring that nothing important fell off the side, like oceans or large chunks of land. It wasn’t until Thomas turned around a few times, accidentally smashing a few mega-cities in doing so, that he realized what he was actually looking at: rather than the wall being equidistant from him, it seemed that some sections were closest, while others veered off into the distance, in a way that looked like they were approaching one another, converging on some unfathomably distant point. It’d certainly be easier to get his bearings if there weren’t such thick clouds in the way, but then again, all he had to do was wait; eventually, he would grow bigger still, he would keep going until the smog cover was was at knee-height, rather than by his chest, at which point the real nature of the reptilians’ homeworld would be revealed to him: it was a disk, just not one as small as he imagined. Rather, he was merely on a single “slice”, a section of a much greater circular thing built around the local star: a gargantuan structure, perfectly round if seen from above, separated into wedges like some sort of stellar-sized pizza; each one was remarkably different from those around it, and a few were even devoid of any pollution altogether, while others were so thick with it that their local atmosphere looked more like syrup than anything else. It was a mega-structure of such enormous a scale that Thomas had a hard time grasping just who could’ve built it, or what sort of technology would be necessary to both make it and keep it running; surely, the sheer amount of energy required to maintain gravity and atmospheric control, not to mention bog-standard maintenance for the immense frame, was positively ludicrous. Whoever built that thing must’ve been of such an advanced technological level that they could dwarf anyone else… which certainly went a long way to explain why they so nonchalantly kidnapped other sentients, and seemed content with just living on what looked to Thomas to be a deathworld. The lizards had, in their minds, achieved mastery over the universe; they were able to reconstruct the very star system they lived in, turning it from just another arrangement of planets around a star into a gargantuan and oversized artificial paradise for their civilization. Really, it was almost as impressive as a Dyson sphere would be, perhaps even more considering the sheer scale of it… and that, that was all it took for Thomas to truly lose his mind. It would’ve been good enough if he took over a people that were merely the uncontested masters of their own world, but to conquer a race that had achieved such a mastery of physics and engineering that they created something like that disk? To become a creature of such power that even a civilization that advanced could do nothing more than stare at him and pray that he didn’t visit wrath upon their home? Now that was an achievement, one of such magnitude that the fox-dragon couldn’t help but shamelessly lick his lips as he turned around and around, wondering to himself just where he should go next; it really was a pizza, one that he couldn’t wait to bite into but could never quite decide where to start, doubly so considering this one had multiple flavours and toppings: should he go for the pastoral, more environmentally-friendly sections, to impose himself upon the landscape and paint it white? Should he traverse the rest of the slice he was already on, making himself known and, presumably, tipping the disk over so much that its gravitational generators would end up malfunctioning? Or should he try and go for what looked to be a wedge entirely covered in residential arcologies, serving perhaps as the main hub for the vast majority of the civilization’s population? Really, there were just so many choices that Thomas was nearly left paralyzed from indecision, at least until an idea came to mind, one that left his cheeks burning bright enough that he didn’t know whether it was a terrific one, or just a downright terrible one… but it was an idea, and it filled him with enough determination that he couldn’t not try it, even if it meant the complete destruction of everything around him. With a predatory grin stamped on his face, the fox-dragon resumed his path of destruction, turning to face the star off in the distance; he would traverse the wedge he had been taken to, walking down its length and leaving behind him a series of pawprints of increasingly larger size. Before long, he needed to be careful where he even stepped, as he’d gotten so large that he could easily be on two different slices at once; the walls, once seemingly so imposing, looked to be so tiny that they barely rose from the surface of the artificial flat world to begin with, giving him even more motivation to keep going, to become so enormous that he could fulfill his destiny, and turn that “planet” into little more than an accoutrement upon his form. It’d be a fashion statement as much as it was an apocalypse, and the fact that it needed him to literally outgrow an entire star didn’t really strike Thomas as unreasonable, or indeed even remotely odd; it was normal, expected even, for him to be that big, for him to have become such a gargantuan entity of divine power that even a stellar fusion engine was nothing when placed next to him. He would overcome it all, become greater, stronger, bigger, a truth that became ever more real the closer he came to the center of the disk, and the larger he turned himself into in comparison to what was once a nigh-on impossibly huge ball of plasma. From his limited understanding of cosmology, Thomas figured that the star he was looking at had to be on the larger side, which made a certain amount of sense given how much energy would be required to keep a structure like the mega-disk running; it also made it significantly more enticing for him when he stepped close enough that he could easily fit that thing onto one of his palms… as, indeed, he did, as there was no longer any need for it to be there, and indeed it would only serve as an obstacle. He held it for a few seconds, staring at it as it slowly became smaller and smaller, before opening his mouth and unceremoniously throwing the star down his gullet; a single motion, and all of the lizards’ many worlds were plunged into darkness, leaving only the drox to illuminate their lives. Not that he would, as he had a better plan in mind, one that involved making good use of the hole in the middle of the disk left behind by the star he’d just consumed. It was absurd to even think about it, but there it was: an empty space, somewhere that he could stick his cock into. A base desire, to be sure, one that left Thomas feeling slightly sheepish over just how carnal it was, but at the same time the greatest affirmation of his power yet; there was a grand disk, a circular, constructed homeworld for the greatest civilization in the galaxy, there was the proof that they had achieved mastery of the cosmos, and he, he of Earth, formerly little more than a vulpine-draconic hybrid with a non-standard fur colouring, he who had become a god through his own actions… he would turn it into nothing more than a cockring. It was the ultimate insult to those who would jail him, while at the same time serving as the most grandiose display of power that he could possibly imagine; and as he grew closer, as he angled his cock downwards to fit into a hole that would very soon need to be stretched out, as he realized that even a disk that big would eventually become too small to even be noticeable on his frame, Thomas knew that things were right. He had reached his apex, yet would only keep going; he had become a god, but would only ever get stronger still.

Just as he should.